A MOTHER'S CONFESSION.
"It is just seventeen years ago, you will remember, Harry; you had
recently received your commission as lieutenant in the army; you were
young, enthusiastic; the future appeared to you to be drawn in the
brightest colours. One evening, during weather like the present, you
came to my husband's clearing, to tell us the news, and bid us an
affectionate farewell; for you hoped, like ourselves, not to be long
away from us. The next morning, in spite of our entreaties, after
embracing the children, pressing the hand of my poor husband, who
loved you so, and giving me a parting kiss, you galloped off, and soon
disappeared in a whirlwind of dust. Alas! who could have foretold that
we should not meet again till today, after seventeen years' separation,
upon Indian territory, and under terrible circumstances? However,"
she added, with a sigh, "God has willed it so, may His holy name be
blessed! It has pleased Him to try His creatures, and let His hand fall
heavily on them."
"It was with a strange contraction of the heart," the Major said, "that
six months after that parting, when I returned among you with a joyous
heart, I saw, on dismounting in front of your house, a stranger open
your door, and answer, that the white family had emigrated three months
before, and proceeded in a western direction, with the intention of
founding a new settlement on the Indian frontier. It was in vain that I
tried to gain any information about you from your neighbours; they had
forgotten you; no one could or would, perhaps, give me the slightest
news about you, and I was forced to retrace, heartbroken, the road I
had ridden along so joyfully a few days before. Since then, despite all
the efforts I have made, I never was able to learn anything about your
fate, or lift the mysterious veil that covered the sinister events to
which I was convinced you had fallen victims during your journey."
"You are only half deceived, my brother, in your supposition," she went
on. "Two months after your visit, my husband, who had long desired to
leave our clearing, where he said the land was worth nothing, had a
grave dispute with one of his neighbours about the limits of a field
of which he believed, or pretended to believe, that neighbour had cut
off a corner: under any other circumstances, the difference would have
been easily settled, but my husband sought an excuse to go away, and
having found it, did not let it slip again. He would listen to nothing,
but quietly made all his arrangements for the expedition he had so long
meditated, and at length told us one day that he should start the next.
When my husband had once said a thing, all I could do was to obey, for
he never recalled a determination he had formed. On the appointed day
at sunrise, we left the clearing, our neighbours accompanying us for
the first day's journey, and at nightfall left us, after hearty wishes
for the success of our expedition. It was with inexpressible sorrow I
quitted the house where I was married, where my children were born,
and where I had been happy for so many years. My husband tried in
vain to console me, and restore me that courage which failed me; but
nothing could efface from my mind the gentle and pious recollections I
previously kept up: the deeper we buried ourselves in the desert, the
greater my sorrow became. My husband, on the other hand saw everything
in a bright light; the future belonged to him; he was about to be his
own master, and act as he thought proper. He detailed to me all his
plans, tried to interest me in them, and employed all the means in his
power to draw me from my gloomy thoughts, but could not succeed. Still
we went onwards without stopping. The distance became daily greater
between ourselves and the last settlements of our countrymen. In vain
did I show my husband how remote we were from all help in case of
danger, and the isolation in which we should find ourselves; he only
laughed at my apprehensions; repeated incessantly that the Indians
were far from being so dangerous as they were represented, and that we
had nothing to fear. My husband was so convinced of the truth of his
assertions, that he neglected the most simple precautions to defend
himself against a surprise, and said each morning, with a mocking air,
at the moment of starting, 'You see how foolish you are, Margaret; be
reasonable, the Indians will be careful not to insult us,' One night
the camp was attacked by the Redskins, we were surprised during our
sleep; my husband was flayed alive, while his children were burned at a
slow fire before his face."
While uttering these words, the poor woman's voice became more and more
choked. At the last sentences, her emotion grew so profound, that she
could not continue.
"Courage!" the Major said, as much moved as herself, but more master of
his feelings.
She made an effort, and continued in a harsh, unmodulated voice,--
"By a refinement of cruelty, the barbarism of which I did not at first
understand, my youngest child, my daughter, was spared by the Pagans.
On seeing the punishment of my husband and children, at which I was
forced to be present, I felt such a laceration of the heart, that I
imagined I was dying. I uttered a shriek, and fell down. How long I
remained in that state, I know not: but when I regained my senses,
I was alone. The Indians, doubtlessly, fancied me dead, and left
me where I lay. I rose, and not conscious of what I was doing, but
impelled by a force superior to my will, I returned, tottering and
falling almost at every step, to the spot where this mournful tragedy
had been enacted. It took me three hours--how was I so far from the
camp?--at length I arrived, and a fearful sight presented itself to
my horror-struck eyes. I looked unconscious upon the disfigured and
half carbonized bodies of my children--my despair, however, restored
my failing strength. I dug a grave, and, half delirious with grief,
buried in it husband and children, all that I loved on earth. This
pious duty accomplished, I resolved to die at the spot where the
beings so dear to me had perished. But there are hours during the long
nights in which the shades of the dead address the living, and order
them to take vengeance! That terrific voice from the tomb I heard on a
sinister night, when the elements threatened to overthrow nature. From
that moment my resolution was formed. I consented to live for revenge.
From that hour I have walked firm and implacable on the path I traced,
requiting the Pagans, on every opportunity that presents itself, for
the evil they had done me. I have become the terror of the prairies.
The Indians fear me as an evil genius. They have a superstitious
invincible dread of me; in short, they have surnamed me the Lying
She-wolf of the Prairies; for each time a catastrophe menaces them, or
a frightful danger is hanging over their heads, they see me appear. For
seventeen years I have been nursing my revenge, without ever growing
discouraged, certain that the day will come when, in my turn, I shall
plant my knee on the heart of my enemies, and inflict on them the
atrocious torture they condemned me to suffer."
The woman's face, while uttering these words, had assumed such an
expression of cruelty, that the Major brave as he was, felt himself
shudder.
"And your enemies," he said, after a moment's delay, "do you know them,
have you learned their names?"
"I know them all!" she said, in a piercing voice; "I have learned all
their names!"
"And they are preparing to break the peace?" Mrs. Margaret smiled
ironically.
"No, they will not break the peace, brother, but attack you suddenly.
They have formed among themselves a formidable league, which--at least
they fancy so--you will find it impossible to resist."
"Sister!" the Major exclaimed energetically, "give me the name of
these wretched traitors, and I swear that, even were they concealed
in the depths of Hades, I will seek them, to inflict an exemplary
chastisement."
"I cannot give you these names yet, brother; but be at ease, you shall
soon know them; you will not have to seek them far, for I will lead
them under the guns of your soldiers and hunters."
"Take care, Margaret," the Major said, shaking his head, "hatred is
a bad counsellor in an affair like this; he who grasps at too much,
frequently risks the loss of all."
"Oh," she replied, "my precautions have been taken for a long time:
I hold them, I can seize them whenever I please, or, to speak more
correctly, when the moment has arrived."
"Do as you think proper, sister, and reckon on my devoted aid: this
vengeance affects me too closely for me to allow it to escape."
"Thanks," she said.
"Pardon me," he continued, after a few minutes' reflection, "if I
revert to the sad events you have just narrated; but you have, it
strikes me, forgotten an important detail in your story."
"I do not understand you, Harry."
"I will explain: you said, I think, if my memory serves me, that your
youngest daughter escaped from the frightful fate of her brothers, and
was saved by an Indian."
"Yes, I did say so, brother," she replied in an oppressed voice.
"Well, what has become of the unhappy child? Does she still live? Have
you any news of her? Have you seen her again?"
"She lives, and I have seen her."
"Ah!"
"Yes; the man who saved her educated her, even adopted her," she said,
sarcastically. "Do you know what this wretch would do with the daughter
of the man he murdered, whom he flayed alive before my eyes?"
"Speak; in Heaven's name!
"What I have to say is very dreadful! it is so frightful, indeed, that
I hesitate to reveal it to you."
"Good God!" the Major ejaculated, recoiling involuntarily before his
sister's flaming glance.
"Well," she continued, with a strident laugh, "this girl has grown up,
the child has become a woman, as lovely as it is possible to be. This
man, this monster, this demon, has felt his tiger heart soften at the
sight of the angel; he loves her to distraction, he wishes to make her
his wife."
"Horror!" the Major exclaimed.
"Is that not truly hideous?" she continued, still with that nervous,
spasmodic laugh which it pains one to hear: "he has pardoned his
victim's daughter. Yes, he is generous, he forgets the atrocious
torture he inflicted on the father, and now covets the daughter."
"Oh, that is frightful, Margaret; so much infamy and cynicism is
impossible, even among Indians!"
"Do you believe, then, that I am deceiving you?"
"Far from me be such a thought, sister; the man is a monster."
"Yes, yes, so he is."
"You have seen your daughter; you have talked with her?"
"Yes; well, what then?"
"You have, doubtless, turned her from this monstrous love?"
"I!" she replied, with a grin, "I did not say a word to her about it."
"What!" he said, in amazement.
"By what right could I have spoken?"
"How, by what right--Are you not her mother?"
"She does not know it!"
"Oh!"
"And my vengeance?" she said, coldly. This word which so thoroughly
explained the character of the woman, had before struck the heart of
the old soldier with terror.
"Unhappy woman!" he exclaimed.
A smile of disdain curled the She-wolf's lip.
"Yes, so you are," she said, with a bitter voice, "you men of cities,
with natures worn out by civilization. To understand a passion, it
must be kept within certain limits, traced beforehand. The grandeur of
hatred, with all its fury and excesses, terrifies you; you only admit
that legal and halting vengeance which the criminal code sanctions.
Brother, he who wishes the end, wishes the means. To arrive at my
object, what do I care, do you think, whether I walk over ruins or wade
through blood? No, I go straight before me, with the fatal impetuosity
of the torrent which breaks down and overthrows all the obstacles which
rise in its passage. My object is vengeance! blood for blood, eye
for eye; that is the law of the prairies. I have made it mine, and I
will obtain that vengeance, if for it I--. But," she added, suddenly
breaking off, "what need of this useless discussion between us,
brother? Reassure yourself my daughter has been better warned by her
instincts than all the advice I could have given her. She does not love
this man. I know it, she told me so; she will never love him."
"Heaven be praised!" the Major exclaimed.
"I have only one desire; only one," she continued with a melancholy
air; "it is after the accomplishment of my vengeance, to recover my
daughter, press her to my heart, and cover her with kisses, while at
length revealing to her that I am her mother."
The Major shook his head sorrowfully.
"Take care, sister," he said, in a stern voice; "God has said,
'Vengeance is mine!' take care, lest, after wishing to assume the
office of Providence, you may be cruelly chastised by it in some of
your dearest affections."
"Oh, say not so, Harry!" she exclaimed with a sign of terror; "you
would turn me mad."
The Major let his head sink on hid breast. For a while brother and
sister remained opposite each other, not uttering a word; they were
both reflecting. The She-wolf was the first to renew the conversation.
"Now, brother," she said, "if you will permit me, we will leave this
mournful subject for a moment, and allude to what concerns you more
particularly, that is, the formidable conspiracy formed against you by
the Indians."
"On my word," he replied, with a sigh of relief, "I confess, sister,
that I ask nothing better; my head is confused, and I believe that if
this went on much longer, I should be unable to re-collect my thoughts,
so much am I affected by what you have told me."
"Thanks,"
"Night is drawing on, Margaret; indeed, it has almost entirely slipped
away, we have not a moment to lose, so pray continue."
"Is the garrison complete?"
"Yes."
"How many men have you?"
"Seventy, without counting some fifteen hunters and trappers occupied
without, but whom I will recall without delay."
"Very good: do you require the whole of the garrison for the defence of
the fort?"
"That is according. Why?"
"Because I want to borrow twenty men of you."
"Hum I for what object?"
"You shall learn; you are alone here, without any hopes of help, and
for this reason: while the Indians are burning the fort, they will
intercept your communication with Fort Clarke, Fort Union, and the
other posts scattered along the Missouri."
"I fear it, but what can I do?"
"I will tell you; you have doubtless heard of an American squatter, who
settled hardly a week back about three or four leagues from you?"
"I have; a certain John Black, I think."
"That is the man; well, his clearing will naturally serve you as an
advanced post?"
"Famously."
"Profit by the short time left you; under pretence of a buffalo hunt,
send twenty men from the fort, and conceal them at John Black's, so
that when the moment for action arrives, they may make a demonstration
in your favour, which will place the enemies between two fires, and
make them suppose that reinforcements have reached you from other
posts."
"That is a good idea," the Major said. "You must choose men on whom you
can count."
"They are all devoted to me; you shall see them at work."
"All the better; then that is settled!"
"It is."
"Now, as it is urgent that no one should know of our relations, as it
might compromise the success of our scheme, I must ask you to open the
gates of the fort for me.
"What, so soon, in this frightful weather?"
"I must, brother, it is of the utmost importance that I should start at
once."
"You insist."
"I beg it of you, Harry, for our common benefit."
"Come, then, sister, I will detain you no longer."
Two minutes later, in spite of the storm which still howled with the
same fury, the She-wolf was rowing from Fort Mackenzie at full speed.