<h2>XVII</h2>
<h3>DEDICATION</h3>
<p>Billy made good time in spite of the fact that he had been out all day
on parishional work, but he knew who he was hauling, and seemed to take
deep satisfaction in having Hazel back again, for now and again he would
turn back towards the wagon when they stopped for water and whinny
happily.</p>
<p>They reached the stopping place about nine o'clock, and the news that
the missionary was going to be married spread like wildfire among the
men and out to the neighbouring shacks. In no time a small crowd had
collected about the place, peering out of the starlit darkness.</p>
<p>Hazel retired to the forlorn little chamber where she had spent the
night before and rummaged in her trunk for bridal apparel. In a few
minutes she emerged into the long dining-room where the table had been
hastily cleared and moved aside, and upon which the boarders were now
seated in long rows, watching the proceedings curiously.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>She was dressed in a simple white muslin, touched here and there with
exquisite hand embroidery and tiny cobwebby edges of real lace. The
missionary caught his breath as he saw her come out to him, and the
rough faces of the men softened as they watched her.</p>
<p>The white-haired bishop arose to meet her and welcomed her in a fatherly
way he had, and the woman who kept the stopping place came following in
Hazel's wake, hastily wiping her hands on her apron, and casting it
behind her as she entered. She had been preparing an impromptu supper
out of any materials that happened to be at hand, but she could not miss
the ceremony if the coffee did burn. Weddings did not come her way every
day.</p>
<p>In the doorway, his stolid face shining in the glare of many candles,
stood the Indian from the fort. He had followed silently behind the
couple to witness the proceedings, well knowing he would be forgiven by
his mistress at the fort when he told his news. The missionary was well
beloved—and the missionary was going to be married!</p>
<p>What would the four hundred of her own select New York circle have said
could they have seen Hazel Radcliffe standing serene, in her simple
gown, with her undecked golden<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</SPAN></span> hair, in the midst of that motley
company of men, with only three curious slatternly women in the
background to keep her company, giving herself away to a man who had
dedicated his life to work in the desert? But Hazel's happy heart was
serenely unconscious of the incongruity of her surroundings, and she
answered with a clear ring to her voice as the bishop asked her the
questions: "I will." She was coming gladly to her new home.</p>
<p>It was her own ring, the ring she had given him, that John Brownleigh
put upon her hand in token of his loyalty and love for her, the ring
that for a whole year had lain next his own heart and comforted its
loneliness because she had given it, and now he gave it back because she
had given him herself.</p>
<p>Graciously she placed her small white hand in the rough awkward ones of
the men who came to offer her congratulations, half stumbling over their
own feet in their awe and wonder at her beauty. It was to them as if an
angel from heaven had suddenly dropped down and condescended to walk
their daily path in sight of them all.</p>
<p>Cheerfully she swallowed the stale cake and muddy coffee that the
slatternly landlady produced, and afterwards, as she was being<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</SPAN></span> helped
to get back into her riding dress, bestowed upon her a little lilac wool
frock from her trunk that the woman admired greatly. From that moment
the landlady of the stopping place was a new creature. Missions and
missionaries had been nothing to her through the years, but she believed
in them forever after, and donned her new lilac gown in token of her
faith in Christianity. Thus Hazel won her first convert, who afterwards
proved her fidelity in time of great trial, and showed that even a lilac
gown may be an instrument of good.</p>
<p>Out into the starlight together again they rode, with the blessing of
the bishop upon them, and the cheers of the men still sounding in their
ears.</p>
<p>"I wish mother could have known," said the bridegroom as he drew his
bride close within his arm and looked down upon her nestling by his
side.</p>
<p>"Oh, I think she does!" said Hazel as she dropped a thankful, weary head
against his shoulder. Then the missionary stooped and gave his wife a
long, tender kiss, and raising his head and lifting his eyes to the
starlit sky he said reverently:</p>
<p>"Oh, my Father, I thank Thee for this wonderful gift. Make me worthy of
her.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</SPAN></span> Help her never to regret that she has come to me."</p>
<p>Hazel crept her hand into his free one, and laid her lips upon his
fingers, and prayed all quietly by herself for gladness. So they rode
out to their camp beneath God's sky.</p>
<p>Three days later an Indian on the way to the fort turned aside with a
message for Hazel—a telegram. It read:</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"Arrived safe. Married Burley to once so I could
see to him. Do come home right away. Burley says
come and live with us. Answer right away. I can't
enjoy my new home worrying about you.</p>
<div class='right'>
"Yours respectful, <br/>
"<span class="smcap">Amelia Ellen Stout Burley.</span>" <br/></div>
</div>
<p>With laughter and tears Hazel read the telegram whose price must have
cost the frugal New England conscience a twinge, and after a moment's
thought wrote an answer to send back by the messenger.</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Amelia Ellen:</span> Love and congratulations for
you both. I was married to John Brownleigh the
night you left. Come out and see us when your
husband gets well, and perhaps we'll visit you
when we come East. I am very happy.</p>
<div class='right'>
"<span class="smcap">Hazel Radcliffe Brownleigh.</span>" <br/></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>When good Amelia Ellen read that telegram she wiped her spectacles a
second time and read it over to see that she had made no mistake, and
then she set her toil-worn hands upon her hips and surveyed the prone
but happy Burley in dazed astonishment, ejaculating:</p>
<p>"Fer the land sake! Now did you ever? Fer the land! Was that what she
was up to all the time? I thought she was wonderful set to go, and
wonderful set to stay, but I never sensed what was up. Ef I'd 'a'
knowed, I suppose I'd 'a' stayed another day. Why didn't she tell me, I
wonder! Well, fer the land sake!"</p>
<p>And Burley murmured contentedly:</p>
<p>"Wal, I'm mighty glad you never knowed, Amelia Ellen!"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</SPAN></span><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>The Novels of<br/>Grace Livingston Hill</h2>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='blockquot'>Many thousands of readers have found inspiration and happiness in
reading the novels of Grace Livingston Hill. In her charming romances
there is a sympathetic buoyant spirit that conquers discouragement,
which teaches that true love and happiness will come out of the worst
trial.</div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Grace Livingston Hill books">
<tr><td align='left'>Amorelle</td><td align='left'>The Voice in the Wilderness</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Ransom</td><td align='left'>The Beloved Stranger</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Patch of Blue</td><td align='left'>Happiness Hill</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Kerry</td><td align='left'>The Challengers</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Chance of a Lifetime </td><td align='left'>The City of Fire</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Silver Wings</td><td align='left'>Cloudy Jewel</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Ladybird</td><td align='left'>Dawn of the Morning</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The White Lady</td><td align='left'>The Enchanted Barn</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Gold Shoe</td><td align='left'>Exit Betty</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Found Treasure</td><td align='left'>The Finding of Jasper Holt</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Blue Ruin</td><td align='left'>The Girl from Montana</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Prodigal Girl</td><td align='left'>Lo, Michael</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Duskin</td><td align='left'>The Man of the Desert</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Crimson Roses</td><td align='left'>Marcia Schuyler</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Out of the Storm</td><td align='left'>Phoebe Deane</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Honor Girl</td><td align='left'>The Red Signal</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Job's Niece</td><td align='left'>Tomorrow About This Time</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>A New Name</td><td align='left'>The Tryst</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Ariel Custer</td><td align='left'>The Witness</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Best Man</td><td align='left'>Not Under the Law</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Re-Creations</td><td align='left'>The White Flower</td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK<br/></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>LIDA LARRIMORE'S</h2>
<h3>POPULAR NOVELS</h3>
<div class='center'><big>About the kind of people all of us like to know</big></div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='blockquot'>Each new story by Lida Larrimore proves to be even more popular than the
last. Her books satisfy that tender mood that wants lightness and youth
and beauty; that wants to be stirred by the heartaches of love and its
charm.</div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>
TWO KEYS TO A CABIN<br/>
NO LOVELIER SPRING<br/>
TRUE BY THE SUN<br/>
JONATHAN'S DAUGHTER<br/>
ROBIN HILL<br/>
THE SILVER FLUTE<br/>
MULBERRY SQUARE<br/>
THE WAGON AND THE STAR<br/>
TARPAPER PALACE<br/></div>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<div class='center'>
GROSSET & DUNLAP <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK<br/></div>
<hr style='width: 65%;' />
<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3>
<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections.
Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p>
</div>
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