THE DEATH BED.
Anxiously, as the sun was going down, did Mrs. Wilder watch from her
window for the return of her daughter, and as the gray twilight deepened
into night, and still she came not, the whole household was alarmed, and
every house in the settlement was visited, to learn, if possible, some
tidings of the wanderer. Some remembered having seen her enter the woods
soon after dinner, but farther than that none could tell; and the loud,
shrill cry of “Lost! Lost! A child lost in the woods!” echoed on the
evening air, and brought from a distance many who joined in the
unsuccessful search, which lasted all night. Morning came, and Mrs.
Wilder, pale and distracted with grief, ran hither and thither, calling
loudly for her lost darling.
Three hours of the sun’s daily journey was accomplished, when a young
Indian was seen to emerge from the woods, and rapidly approach the house
of Capt. Wilder, where he communicated all he knew concerning Orianna,
and ended his narrative by saying, “It will be useless to follow her.”
But Capt. Wilder did not think so, and instantly mounting his horse, he
started in pursuit; but the path he took was entirely different from the
one chosen by Orianna, and at nightfall he returned home, weary and
discouraged. For some time he had been contemplating a visit to his
brother, and he now resolved to do so, hoping by this means to fall in
with the fugitives. Mrs. Wilder warmly approved the plan, but made him
promise that if no good news were heard of Ella, he would instantly
return.
Taking with him two negroes, he started on his journey, but no trace of
Orianna did he discover, and he reached Glen’s Creek before she had
accomplished half the distance. Assured by his brother’s family of
Ella’s perfect safety with the Indian girl, he grew calm, although he
impatiently waited their coming.
Meantime little Charlie had grown worse, until at last he ceased to
speak of Ella, although he confidently expected to see her, and
requested that his bed might be moved to a position from which he could
discern the path which led up from the woods. There for many days he
watched, and then turning sadly away, he said, “Mother, now take me
back. Ella will come, but I shall be dead.”
From that time he grew worse, and the afternoon on which we left Orianna
and Ella in the woods was the last he ever saw on earth. Gathered around
the dying boy were weeping friends, who knew that the mild spring sun
which so gently kissed his cold, pale brow, would never rise again for
him. Kind words he had spoken to all, and then in a faint whisper, he
said, “Tell Ella ——;” but the sentence was unfinished, for Ella stood
before him, while the look of joy that lighted up his face told how dear
to him was the little girl around whose neck his arms twined so
lovingly.
And now a darker face, but no less loving heart approached, and
whispered softly, “Charlie, do you know me?”
“Orianna,” was the answer, as on her lips a kiss was pressed.
Then the arms unclasped from Ella’s neck, over the blue eyes the heavy
eyelids closed, and Charlie had gone home. With a bitter wail of sorrow
Orianna bent for a moment over the marble form, for which she had
sacrificed so much, and then, from among those who fain would have
detained her, she went, nor paused a moment until the wigwam of her
father was reached.
In the doorway she found Narretta, whose first exclamation was, “Have
you heard! Have they told you? The Great Spirit has answered my prayer!”
and then to her daughter she unfolded a tale which we, too, will narrate
to our readers.
It will be remembered that on the day when Orianna left home for
Virginia, Narretta accompanied her a short distance, and learned from
her the story of her love for Robert. To that story there was another—an
unobserved listener—Wahlaga, who from that hour resolved to take the
life of his pale rival, but his designs were foiled by a summons from
the invisible world, which he could not disobey.
A week after Orianna’s departure, he was taken ill of a disease
contracted at the Indian camp, where he had spent the winter. All the
skill of the “medicine man” could not save him, and on the fifth day he
died, cursing, with his last breath, his hated rival.
When it was known at Deacon Wilder’s that death had been at Grassy
Spring, words of kindly sympathy were sent there for the sake of the
noble Orianna; and for her sake, perhaps, Owanno’s feelings softened
toward the inhabitants of Glen’s Creek. It is impossible to describe
Orianna’s feelings on learning that the dreadful Wahlaga was dead,
really dead, and would trouble her no more. Her whole being seemed
changed, and the slumber which that night stole over her was sweeter far
and more refreshing than for many weary days had visited her.
At Glen’s Creek that same night Capt. Wilder, with his darling Ella
pressed to his bosom, was listening, while between her tears for little
Charlie, she told him of the many virtues of her Indian companion,
urging him to send for her mother, that she, too, might know and love
Orianna. But Ella’s strength was exhausted long before her theme, and
when, as her voice ceased, her father looked down upon her, she was far
in the depths of dreamland.