"Now for the love, the sweet young love,
Under the _tala_ tree," etc.
It was the voice of Haj-Ewa, chanting one of her favourite melodies.
Far sweeter the tones of another voice pronouncing my own name:
"George Randolph!"
"Maumee!"
"_Ho, ho_! you both remember?--still remember? _Hinklas_! The island--
that fair island--fair to you, but dark in the memory of Haj-Ewa.
_Hulwak_! I'll think of't no more--no, no, no!
"Now for the love, the sweet young love,
Under--
"It was once mine--it is now yours, mico! yours, _haintclitz_! Pretty
creatures! enjoy it alone; you wish not the mad queen for a companion?
Ha, ha! _Cooree, cooree_! I go; fear not the rustling wind, fear not
the whispering trees; none can approach while Haj-Ewa watches. She will
be your guardian. _Chitta mico_, too. Ho, _chitta mico_!
"Now for the love, the sweet young love."
And again renewing her chant, the strange woman glided from the spot,
leaving me alone with Maumee.
The moment was not without embarrassment to me--perhaps to both of us.
No profession had ever passed between us, no assurance, not a word of
love. Although I loved Maumee with all my heart's strength, although I
now felt certain that she loved me, there had been no mutual declaration
of our passion. The situation was a peculiar one, and the tongue felt
restraint.
But words would have been superfluous in that hour. There was an
electricity passing between us--our souls were _en rapport_, our hearts
in happy communion, and each understood the thoughts of the other. Not
all the words in the world could have given me surer satisfaction that
the heart of Maumee was mine.
It was scarcely possible that _she_ could misconceive. With but slight
variation, my thoughts were hers. In all likelihood, Haj-Ewa had
carried to her ears my earnest declaration. Her look was joyful--
assured. She did not doubt me.
I extended my arms, opening them widely. Nature prompted me, or perhaps
passion--all the same. The silent signal was instantly understood, and
the moment after, the head of my beloved was nestling upon my bosom.
Not a word was spoken. A low fond cry alone escaped her lips as she
fell upon my breast, and twined her arms in rapturous compression around
me.
For some moments we exchanged not speech; our hearts alone held
converse.
Soon the embarrassment vanished, as a light cloud before the summer sun:
not a trace of shyness remained; and we conversed in the confidence of
mutual love.
I am spared the writing of our love-speeches. You have yourself heard
or uttered them. If too common-place to be repeated, so also are they
too sacred. I forbear to detail them.
We had other thoughts to occupy us. After a while, the transport of our
mutual joys, though still sweet, assumed a more sober tinge; and,
half-forgetting the present, we talked of the past and the future.
I questioned Maumee much. Without guile, she gave me the history of
that long interval of absence. She confessed, or rather declared--for
there was no coquettish hesitation in her manner--that she had loved me
from the first--even from that hour when I first saw and loved her:
through the long silent years, by night as by day, had the one thought
held possession of her bosom. In her simplicity, she wondered I had not
known of it!
I reminded her that her love had never been declared. It was true, she
said; but she had never dreamt of concealing it. She thought I might
have perceived it. Her instincts were keener: she had been _conscious
of mine_!
So declared she, with a freedom that put me off my guard.
If not stronger, her passion was nobler than my own.
She had never doubted me during the years of separation. Only of late;
but the cause of this doubt was explained: the pseudo-lover had poured
poison into her ears. Hence the errand of Haj-Ewa.
Alas! my story was not so guileless. Only part of the truth could I
reveal; and my conscience smote me as I passed over many an episode that
would have given pain.
But the past was past, and could not be re-enacted. A more righteous
future was opening before me; and silently in my heart did I register
vows of atonement. Never more should I have cause to reproach myself--
never would my love--never could it wander away from the beautiful being
I held in my embrace.
Proudly my bosom swelled as I listened to the ingenuous confession of
her love, but sadly when other themes became the subject of our
converse. The story of family trials, of wrongs endured, of insults put
upon them--and more especially by their white neighbours, the
Ringgolds--caused my blood to boil afresh.
The tale corresponded generally with what I had already learned; but
there were other circumstances unknown to public rumour. He, too--the
wretched hypocrite--had _made love to her_. He had of late desisted
from his importunities, through fear of her brother, and dared no longer
come near.
The other, Scott, had made his approaches under the guise of friendship.
He had learned, what was known to many, the position of affairs with
regard to the Indian widow's plantation. From his relationship in high
quarters, he possessed influence, and had promised to exert it in
obtaining restitution. It was a mere pretence--a promise made without
any intention of being kept; but, backed by fair words, it had deceived
the generous, trusting heart of Osceola. Hence the admission of this
heartless cur into the confidence of a family intimacy.
For months had the correspondence existed, though the opportunities were
but occasional. During all this time had the _soi-disant_ seducer been
pressing his suit--though not very boldly, since he too dreaded the
frown of that terrible brother--neither successfully: he had _not_
succeeded.
Ringgold well knew this when he affirmed the contrary. His declaration
had but one design--to sting _me_. For such purpose, it could not have
been made in better time.
There was one thing I longed to know. Surely Maumee, with her keen
quick perception, from the girlish confidence that had existed between
them--surely she could inform me. I longed to know the relations that
had existed between my sister and her brother.
Much as I desired the information, I refrained from asking it.
And yet we talked of both--of Virginia especially, for Maumee remembered
my sister with affection, and made many inquiries in relation to her.
Virginia was more beautiful than ever, she had heard, and accomplished
beyond all others. She wondered if my sister would remember those walks
and girlish amusements--those happy hours upon the island.
"Perhaps," thought I, "_too well_."
It was a theme that gave me pain.
The future claimed our attention; the past was now bright as heaven, but
there were clouds in the sky of the future.
We talked of that nearest and darkest--the imprisonment of Osceola. How
long would it last? What could be done to render it as brief as
possible?
I promised to do everything in my power; and I purposed as I promised.
It was my firm resolve to leave no stone unturned to effect the
liberation of the captive chief. If right should not prevail, I was
determined to try stratagem. Even with the sacrifice of my commission--
even though personal disgrace should await me--the risk of life itself--
I resolved he should be free.
I needed not to add to my declaration the emphasis of an oath; I was
believed without that. A flood of gratitude was beaming from those
liquid orbs; and the silent pressure of love-burning lips was sweeter
thanks than words could have uttered.
It was time for parting; the moon told the hour of midnight.
On the crest of the hill, like a bronze statue outlined against the pale
sky, stood the mad queen. A signal brought her to our side; and after
another embrace, one more fervid pressure of sweet lips, Maumee and I
parted.
Her strange but faithful guardian led her away by some secret path, and
I was left alone.
I could scarcely take myself away from that consecrated ground; and I
remained for some minutes longer, giving full play to triumphant and
rapturous reflections.
The declining moon again warned me; and, crossing the crest of the hill,
I hastened back to the Fort.