THE EMBASSY AND THE MIRACLE.
It was a beautiful night, several weeks after the interview with Rene,
in the wood. The moon was full, the air singularly pleasant and soft,
and the whole scene so full of tranquil beauty, in spite of its
wildness, that it seemed impossible it should not bring repose to the
most troubled heart. On the morrow Gi-en-gwa-tah was to lead Queen
Mahaska to her new mansion, and the whole village had retired early to
rest in anticipation of the coming festivities, given in honor of the
completion of the royal structure.
During the day, old Meme had stolen up to the rise of ground close by
the lake where the stone dwelling stood, to see if Mahaska’s words had
been fulfilled. She went through the different rooms, but there was
nothing to be seen except the gifts which the Indian chief, her son, had
brought there. The old woman was greatly disappointed, but said nothing,
and for the rest of the day the dwelling was left deserted and silent.
Mahaska had signified to her that, on that night, she must be left
alone; she was going out upon the lake to receive the last instructions
of the spirits who made her wise with their counsels.
This information crept among the tribe, and every one avoided
approaching her lodge after nightfall. Hence she was left to the
undisturbed freedom which she desired.
Mahaska sat quietly in her lodge till the hands of a little watch she
always carried pointed to midnight; then she rose, wrapped her mantle
about her, and passed into the open air. She walked rapidly down to the
shore of the lake, where her canoe was moored—a light, graceful bark,
which Gi-en-gwa-tah had constructed for her with unusual elegance and
care. Seating herself in the canoe, she paddled noiselessly up the lake.
About half a mile beyond her new palace there was a high bluff,
projecting over the waters and crowned with lofty trees. That was the
point of her destination. As she neared this spot she ceased paddling,
and sent a low whistle, like the cry of a bird, across the water. It was
answered by a similar sound; then she rowed rapidly toward the cliff.
As the boat approached the shore, she saw canoes drawn up under the
shadow of the ledge, and a little knot of men stood awaiting her
arrival.
With one vigorous sweep she sent her canoe on the beach, rose slowly,
gathered her mantle about her, and stepped on shore.
Two of the men came forward to meet her; in the third her quick glance
recognized the half-breed. The pair who awaited her were both young men
still, but in spite of the hunting-shirts and leggins, there was an air
of high-breeding and command about them which betrayed their rank.
They greeted Mahaska with a courteous salutation, and she could see the
surprise they felt at her appearance as she appeared so suddenly before
them in the soft moonlight, in the full power of her grace and
loveliness. They were astounded by her beauty, and soon were enchanted
with her graces.
“I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Colonel St. Clair and
Captain Stuart,” she said, in her most winning voice, speaking in
English, and with an ease which only perfect familiarity with the
language could have given.
Each bowed in turn as his name was mentioned, and she added, lightly,
though not abating an inch of her state:
“I am grieved that I should have been forced to receive you so
unceremoniously, gentlemen; one day I shall hope to greet you with the
distinction such guests deserve. At present we meet almost as
conspirators.”
“We are only too much honored, lady, by your consenting to meet us at
all,” said Colonel St. Clair.
She looked keenly at him; the tone was honest and sincere.
“Your General, then, received my answer to his letter without delay?”
she said.
“He did, madam, and dispatched us on the instant to arrange with you
concerning a variety of matters which must be considered should your
plans succeed. He regretted exceedingly that he could not make this
visit in person, and thus secure himself the pleasure of an interview
with one of whom report speaks such marvels, and yet falls so far short
of the reality.”
“I should have been most happy to receive his visit” Mahaska replied;
“it will be a pleasure in anticipation. I owe him many thanks for making
his absence less felt by the choice he made of his embassadors.”
There was a little further exchange of compliments, and then they
entered upon the business which brought them there. The two officers
were refined, nobly-born men, accustomed to association with those of
high birth, but never, even among royalty, had they met more polished
grace and courtesy than this women exhibited, standing alone in the
wilderness. Then the vigor and keenness of her intellect was felt in the
propositions she laid down, and her woman’s vanity taught her when and
how to wander from the theme, and give an opportunity to display
glimpses of her wonderful information, and of the sparkling wit of which
she was capable. They remained conversing for a long time; at last it
was necessary that the conference should be broken up.
“Our General has ventured to send with us a few offerings as a token of
his friendship and esteem,” said St. Clair, “which he begged me to
present to you.”
Mahaska’s keen eyes had taken note of the three heavily loaded boats,
and understood that the artful suggestions in her letter had been acted
upon.
“Whatever they may be,” she said, “they will prove welcome, as a
friendly recognition from your brave General.”
“We are in a little perplexity as to the means of disposing of them,”
said St. Clair, laughing, and yet feeling as much embarrassed as if she
had not been half Indian, and standing in the depths of her native
wilderness.
“I can trust no one as yet,” she answered. “The whole transaction must
remain a secret, or I would send men here to take them to my home.”
“Can we not do it, madam?” he asked; “can we not row over to it?”
“Yes; it is not far and stands almost upon the shore.”
She pointed to the stone front of her dwelling, which shone out grandly
in the moonlight.
“It is hardly gracious to make you perform such an office,” she said.
“It becomes an honor in your service,” he replied; “besides, we have our
boatmen below.”
“Then, since you are so kind, I will go on in advance and show you the
way,” she said.
They conducted her to her canoe, and set rapidly off in the wake of
silver that flashed under her paddles.
They landed on the shore, close by one of the entrances to her mansion,
and began unloading the countless packages which crowded the boats.
Mahaska stood by, apologizing gracefully, but in her heart she was
delighted at forcing these two proud pale-faces to superintend work
which should have belonged to the meanest workmen—even in so slight a
thing, it was a pleasure to humble any of the hated race.
Mahaska threw open the doors, and ushered them into her dwelling. All
manner of gifts which could conduce to her comfort were soon crowded
into the rooms: rich coverings; piles of cushions; silken draperies;
costly sets of china and plate—every thing which it had been possible to
bring that could be expected to afford gratification, was suddenly
thrown from the midst of luxury and refinement into the wildness of
savage life. Then St. Clair drew from his breast a casket and placed it
in her hands. She raised the lid, and the precious stones it contained
flashed in the moonlight.
She smiled with keen satisfaction. She might have endured bare floors,
coarse viands, all the nakedness of savage existence, but she was
growing avaricious—eager to heap up stores of gold and gems, not from a
miserly feeling, but because such treasures were tangible evidences of
power.
“I am overwhelmed by such profusion,” she said; “there are no thanks
that could express a shadow of a return. Tell your General, Mahaska
could not be bought either by gold or jewels; but the thoughtfulness and
friendship exhibited in the choice of his gifts have won her heart
forever.”
“He will be rejoiced to hear your message,” returned St. Clair, “and I
am sure that this alliance can be made equally useful to both the
English and yourself. Besides, the General was anxious personally to
open communication with a lady already so much talked of throughout the
land.”
“These are early days,” said Mahaska, proudly; “let them wait, and see
what time shall bring forth. Your Governor and I, at all events, are
bound together by the closest ties that can ever knit human
hearts—mutual interests, and mutual hate of a common enemy.”
They did not understand the import of her words, and looked somewhat
surprised.
“Our hatred for the French,” she continued, answering the expression in
their faces. “Talk of the power of love! There is no feeling binds human
beings so closely as a common hate!”
Then, fearful that her words and tone had revealed too much ferocity,
she hastened to speak of other things, careful to do nothing which would
send them away with an unfavorable opinion.
“I wish I had some token to send your General,” she said; “but, alas,
what could I find in this wild domain which would give him pleasure?”
“If I might venture to suggest,” said St. Clair, hesitatingly.
“Well, sir?” she asked, in her sweetest voice. “Surely I can not be so
terrible that you need hesitate.”
“If you had a portrait of yourself that you would permit me to take back
to the General, it would make him a proud and happy man.”
“What!” she exclaimed, smiling still, though her voice rung out a shade
less soft, “would you have a picture of the Indian queen that your
nation might look at it and say, ‘This is the panther of the forest?’”
“Madam, you wrong our gallantry and our manhood by the doubt.”
“Truly, I think so,” she answered. “Let me see—let me see. I have a
miniature of myself—yes, you shall send Rene for it soon. I shall have
news for you then. It is the face of a mere girl; but, tell the
Governor, when he looks at to remember that it is a pledge of the
woman’s sincerity.”
“Many, many thanks,” returned St. Clair. “Now, madam, permit us to take
our leave. The night is wearing on, and we have a long journey before
us.”
“Farewell, then, gentlemen. Believe me, you have bound me to you by this
night’s work. I may one day be able to give you a proof of my
friendship.”
“The knowledge that we possess it is good fortune enough,” they
answered.
They bent over the hand she extended, and, with more words of courtesy,
passed out of her presence.
Mahaska stood in the hall where she had parted from her visitors, till
the softly-handled oars died away on the lake. Then, without more delay,
she began, by the light of the moon which filled the apartment with its
radiance, to complete the task which lay before her.
Gi-en-gwa-tah had instructed the Indians to make chairs and sofas for
the new dwelling—rough seats of hewn wood; but Mahaska speedily hid
their uncouthness with the rich cushions the Englishmen had brought. She
arranged Gi-en-gwa-tah’s furs with excellent taste, draped the windows,
and before the day broke, had restored every thing to order, and wrought
a transformation so complete in the mansion that it seemed like the work
of magic.
When all was prepared, she sought her canoe and rowed back to her lodge,
to await the influence of her night’s work.
Early in the morning Mahaska was aroused by a crowd of women, who had
left their wigwams early in order to witness the miracle which
Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother had whispered abroad as likely to follow
Mahaska’s removal to her stone house. They found the young chief
preparing Mahaska’s canoe for an early sail to the stately residence.
His wife had said nothing to him about her hopes of spiritual assistance
in beautifying her residence; and, though he had heard the rumor, he
deemed it only female gossip, which prevailed in that remote Indian
village just as actively as it is to be found in our cities of the
present day.
The sun was up, and cresting all the little wavelets on the lake with
golden flashes, when Mahaska appeared in the door of her lodge. The
women gathered around her, clamorous for information regarding her
night-visions. She looked fresh and blooming as if she had spent the
whole night in healthful slumber.
“Mahaska had beautiful dreams,” she said, smiling. “All night the
prophet whispered great things in her ear. She is glad at heart.”
Gi-en-gwa-tah came up while she was speaking; he had cushioned her canoe
with furs and lined it with scarlet cloth which fell over its edges like
a fringe. It looked like a cradle on the soft swell of the waters,
inviting her to enter. In his rude way, Gi-en-gwa-tah had furnished his
rude dwelling, but he felt anxious, and dissatisfied with the effect.
Could he have carpeted the floor with ermine, and made her couches of
ebony, the generous savage would have done it. Indeed, the furs which he
had lavished on her new home would have almost bought the furnishing of
a palace; but their value was nothing to him so long as they remained
only a type of savage life.
But Mahaska had no misgivings. Bright, cheerful and queenly, she stepped
into the canoe and sat down among the furs, beautiful as Cleopatra in
her barge. Gi-en-gwa-tah placed himself opposite her in the little
craft, and, followed by a dozen other canoes, crossed to the slope of
land on which the stone mansion was built. There a crowd met
them—chiefs, warriors, and women—all forming a picturesque escort to the
young couple as they left the canoe and walked up to the front entrance.
The door was opened by Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother, who uttered a cry of
delighted surprise as she crossed the threshold. Mahaska entered
smiling, but the young chief paused in the first room, mute with
astonishment. The walls, bare and black the night before, were now
covered with brilliant hangings, which fell from light, gilded cornices;
small carpets covered the center of the floor, and fur rugs were
scattered about; the rude tables were overspread with gorgeously-wrought
covers, and on the mantel were tall silver candlesticks, from which
tapers of tinted wax beamed with a rich promise of light.
Mahaska turned to her husband, smiling:
“Mineto is good; he has sent his spirits to work for us in the night.
This is not our palace, but a great medicine-lodge which we are to
inhabit for the good of our people.”
Gi-en-gwa-tah could not speak: surprise had struck him dumb.
Mahaska looked around the room with an air of queenly satisfaction. A
great oaken chest, clamped with brass, stood in the room. She lifted the
lid, revealing a glittering store of beads, knives, gorgeous stuffs and
embroidered blankets. She filled her arms with these things and went
forth among the people on the lawn, to whom she distributed them
generously, buying golden opinions with every lift of her hand.
“It is the great Mineto who sends them to his chosen tribe; see what
care he takes of my people.”
The savages gave their simple hearts to this woman, whose powers they
considered divine.