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A DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST
by
EVELYN RAYMOND
Author of "A Yankee Girl" etc.
Illustrated by Ida Waugh
The Penn Publishing Company
Philadelphia MCMII
Copyright 1902 by The Penn Publishing Company
Published August 15, 1902
A Daughter of the Forest
[Illustration: THE GIRL KNELT, INDIAN FASHION]
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE STORM 5
II SPIRIT OR MORTAL 15
III AN ESTRAY FROM CIVILIZATION 27
IV WHAT WAS IN THE NAME 40
V IN ALADDIN LAND 53
VI A ONE-SIDED STORY 67
VII A WOODLAND MENAGERIE 78
VIII KING MADOC 84
IX PERPLEXITIES 96
X DEPARTURE 109
XI A DISCLOSURE 120
XII CARRYING 134
XIII A DEAD WATER TRAGEDY 146
XIV SHOOTING THE RAPIDS 157
XV SCIENCE AND SUPERSTITION 172
XVI DIVERGING ROADS 188
XVII IN THE HOUR OF DARKNESS 201
XVIII THE LETTER 212
XIX A QUESTION OF APPAREL 226
XX COMING AND GOING 241
XXI IN THE GREAT RAILWAY STATION 259
XXII NUMBER 526 272
XXIII FATHER AND SON 283
XXIV A HIDDEN SAFE DEPOSIT 302
XXV THE MELODY AND MYSTERY OF LIFE 319
A Daughter of the Forest
CHAPTER I
THE STORM
"Margot! Margot!"
Mother Angelique's anxious call rang out over the water, once, twice,
many times. But, though she shaded her brows with her hands and
strained her keen ears to listen, there was no one visible and no
response came back to her. So she climbed the hill again and,
reentering the cabin, began to stir with almost vicious energy the
contents of a pot swinging in the wide fireplace. As she toiled she
muttered and wagged her gray head with sage misgivings.
"For my soul! There is the ver' bad hoorican' a-comin', and the child
so heedless. But the signs, the omens! This same day I did fall
asleep at the knitting and waked a-smother. True, 'twas Meroude, the
cat, crouched on my breast; yet what sent her save for a warning?"
Though even in her scolding the woman smiled, recalling how Margot had
jeered at her superstition; and that when she had dropped her bit of
looking-glass the girl had merrily congratulated her on the fact;
since by so doing she had secured "two mirrors in which to behold such
loveliness!"
"No, no, not so. Death lurks in a broken glass; or, at the best, must
follow seven full years of bad luck and sorrow."
On which had come the instant reproof:
"Silly Angelique! When there is no such thing as luck but all is of
the will of God."
The old nurse had frowned. The maid was too wise for her years. She
talked too much with the master. It was not good for womenkind to
listen to grave speech or plague their heads with graver books. Books,
indeed, were for priests and doctors; and, maybe, now and then, for
men who could not live without them, like Master Hugh. She, Angelique,
had never read a book in all her life. She never meant to do so. She
had not even learned a single letter printed in their foolish pages.
Not she. Yet was not she a most excellent cook and seamstress? Was
there any cabin in all that northland as tidy as that she ruled?
Would matters have been the better had she bothered her poor brain
with books? She knew her duty and she did it. What more could mortal?
This argument had been early in the day. A day on which the master had
gone away to the mainland and the house-mistress had improved by
giving the house an extra cleaning. To escape the soapsuds and the
loneliness, Margot had, also, gone, alone and unquestioned; taking
with her a luncheon of brown bread and cold fowl, her book and
microscope. Angelique had watched the little canoe push off from
shore, without regret, since now she could work unhindered at
clearing the room of the "rubbishy specimen" which the others had
brought in to mess the place.
Now, at supper time, perfect order reigned, and perfect quiet, as
well; save for the purring of Meroude upon the hearth and the
simmering of the kettle. Angelique wiped her face with her apron.
"The great heat! and May but young yet. It means trouble. I wish----"
Suddenly, the cat waked from her sleep and with a sharp meouw leaped
to her mistress' shoulder; who screamed, dropped the ladle, splashed
the stew, and boxed the animal's ears--all within a few seconds. Her
nerves were already tingling from the electricity in the air, and her
anxiety returned with such force that, again swinging the crane around
away from the fire, she hurried to the beach.
To one so weatherwise the unusual heat, the leaden sky, and the
intense hush were ominous. There was not a breath of wind stirring,
apparently, yet the surface of the lake was already dotted by tiny
white-caps, racing and chasing shoreward, like live creatures at play.
Not many times, even in her long life in that solitude, had Angelique
Ricord seen just that curious coloring of cloud and water, and she
recalled these with a shudder. The child she loved was strong and
skilful, but what would that avail? Her thin face darkened, its
features sharpened, and making a trumpet of her hands, she put all her
force into a long, terrified halloo.
"Ah-ho-a-ah! Margot--Mar-g-o-t--MARGOT!"
Something clutched her shoulder and with another frightened scream the
woman turned to confront her master.
"Is the child away?"
"Yes, yes. I know not where."
"Since when?"
"It seems but an hour, maybe two, three, and she was here, laughing,
singing, all as ever. Though it was before the midday, and she went
in her canoe, still singing."
"Which way?"
She pointed due east, but now into a gloom that was impenetrable. On
the instant, the lapping wavelets became breakers, the wind rose to a
deafening shriek, throwing Angelique to the ground and causing even
the strong man to reel before it. As soon as he could right himself he
lifted her in his arms and staggered up the slope. Rather, he was
almost blown up it and through the open door into the cabin, about
which its furnishings were flying wildly. Here the woman recovered
herself and lent her aid in closing the door against the tempest, a
task that, for a time, seemed impossible. Her next thought was for her
dinner-pot, now swaying in the fireplace, up which the draught was
roaring furiously. Once the precious stew was in a sheltered corner,
her courage failed again and she sank down beside it, moaning and
wringing her hands.
"It is the end of the world!"
"Angelique!"
Her wails ceased. That was a tone of voice she had never disobeyed in
all her fifteen years of service.
"Yes, Master Hugh."
"Spread some blankets. Brew some herb tea. Get out a change of dry
clothing. Make everything ready against I bring Margot in."
She watched him hurrying about securing all the windows, piling wood
on the coals, straightening the disordered furniture, fastening a
bundle of kindlings to his own shoulders, putting matches in the
pocket of his closely buttoned coat, and caught something of his
spirit. After all, it was a relief to be doing something, even though
the roar of the tempest and the incessant flashes of lightning turned
her sick with fear. But it was all too short a task; and when, at
last, her master climbed outward through a sheltered rear window,
closing it behind him, her temporary courage sank again and finally.
"The broken glass! the broken glass! Yet who would dream it is my
darling's bright young life must pay for that and not mine, the old
and careworn? Ouch! the blast! That bolt struck--and near! Ah! me! Ah!
me!"
Meroude rubbed pleadingly against her arm and, glad of any living
companionship, she put out her hand to touch him; but drew it back in
dread, for his surcharged fur sparkled and set her flesh a-tingle,
while the whole room grew luminous with an uncanny radiance. Feeling
that her own last hour had come, poor Angelique crouched still lower
in her corner and began to say her prayers with so much earnestness
that she became almost oblivious to the tornado without.
Meanwhile, by stooping and clinging to whatever support offered, Hugh
Dutton made his slow way beachward. But the bushes uprooted in his
clasp and the bowlders slipped by him on this new torrent rushing to
the lake. Then he flung himself face downward and cautiously crawled
toward the point of rocks whereon he meant to make his beacon fire.
"She will see it and steer by it," he reflected; for he would not
acknowledge how hopeless would be any human steering under such a
stress.
Alas! the beacon would not light. The wind had turned icy cold and the
rain changed to hail which hurled itself upon the tiny blaze and
stifled its first breath. A sort of desperate patience fell on the man
and he began again, with utmost care, to build and shelter his little
stock of fire-wood. Match after match he struck and with unvarying
failure, till all were gone; and realizing at last how chilled and
rigid he was growing he struggled to his feet and set them into
motion.
Then there came a momentary lull in the storm and he shouted aloud, as
Angelique had done:
"Margot! Little Margot! MARGOT!"
Another gust swept over lake and island. He could hear the great
trees falling in the forest, the bang, bang, bang, of the deafening
thunder, as, blinded by lightning and overcome by exhaustion, he sank
down behind the pile of rocks and knew no more.