Towards the interior of the hut, hallowed by such lovely presence, I
continued to direct my glances--with an occasional side-look, noting the
movements of the two men. Whatever had been the exciting topic of
discourse but the moment before, I saw that it was now changed; and that
I was myself the subject of their conversation. This I could tell by
their looks and gestures--evidently bearing upon me and my business.
Conscious that I was observing them--and as if desirous of conferring
more privately--they passed round to the rear of the cabin; where for
the time they were out of my sight, as well as hearing. So far from
regretting this movement, it was just what I desired: it left me free to
continue the pleasant espionage in which I had become engaged. New more
boldly my eyes explored the dark interior of the hut--more freely roamed
my glance along the interstices of the logs. Gladly should I have gone
up to the doorway--fain would I have been to enter--had I not been
restrained; but delicacy, and something more stood in the way; and I was
forced to keep my ground. Again I saw the bright form flitting within.
Gliding gently across the floor--as if on tiptoe, and by stealth--the
young girl stood for a while near the back-wall of the cabin. Close
behind this, the two men were conversing. Did she go there to listen?
She might easily hear what was said: I could myself distinguish the
voices, and almost the words.
She remained motionless; and, as well as I could judge, in an attitude
of attention--her head lowered, and her body bent slightly forward. I
was forming conjectures as to her motive, when I saw her moving away
from the spot. In another instant, she appeared in the doorway--this
time evidently with some design, as her manner clearly betokened. For a
moment she stood upon the stoop, fronting towards me--but with her face
averted, and her eyes by a side-glance directed towards the rear of the
hut. She appeared to look and listens--as if noting the position of the
men; and then, seemingly satisfied that she was not herself observed,
she suddenly faced round, and came running towards me!
Taken by surprise--a surprise mingled with sweet satisfaction--I rose to
my feet; and stood silently but respectfully awaiting her approach. I
had acted with prudence in not speaking: for I saw by her manner that
the movement was a stolen one. Moreover, the finger, raised for an
instant to her lips, admonished me to silence. I understood the signal,
so piquantly given; and obeyed it. In another instant she was near--
near enough for me to hear her words--delivered in a half-whisper. She
had paused before me in an attitude that betokened the fear of
interruption; and, before speaking, again cast behind her another of
those unquiet looks.
"Brave stranger!" said she, in a hurried undertone, "I know you are not
afraid of my father; but oh, sir! for mercy's sake, do not fight with
him!"
"For _your_ sake," I said, interrupting her, and speaking in a low but
impressive tone--"for your sake, fair Lilian, I shall not fight with
him. Trust me, there is no fear. I shall bear anything, rather than--"
"Hush!" said she, again motioning me to silence, at the same time
glancing furtively behind her. "You must not speak: you may be heard!
Only listen to me. I know why you are here. I came out to tell you
something."
"I listen."
"Father does not now wish to quarrel with you: he has changed his mind.
I have just heard what they said. He intends to make you a proposal.
Oh, sir! if you can, please agree to it; for then there--will be no
trouble. I hope there will be none!"
"For you, fair Lilian, I shall agree to it--whatever the conditions be.
Can you tell me what proposal he intends making me?"
"I heard him say he would _sell_--Oh, mercy! they are coming--if I am
seen--"
The murmuring words were drowned by the louder voices of the men--who
were now heard returning round the angle of the wall. Fortunately,
before they had reached the front of the cabin, the young girl had
glided back into the doorway; and no suspicion appeared to be
entertained by either, of the clandestine visit just paid me.
On rounding the corner, the stranger stopped. The squatter continued to
advance, until within a few paces of where I stood. Then halting, he
erected his gigantic form to its full height; and, for a moment,
confronted me without speaking. I noticed that his countenance no
longer bore signs of angry passion; but, on the contrary, betrayed some
traces of a softer feeling--as of regret and contrition.
"Strenger!" said he at length, "I've two things to propose to ye; an' ef
you'll agree to them, thur's no need why you an' I shed quarrel--leest
of all plug one another wi' bullets, as we wur agwine to do a minnit
ago."
"Name your conditions!" rejoined I, "and if they are not impossible for
me to accept, I promise you they shall be agreed to."
With Lilian in my thoughts, they would be hard indeed if I could not
square with whatever terms he might propose.
"They ain't unpossible--neyther o' 'em; thur only just an' fair."
"Let me hear them; and believe me, Hickman Holt, I shall judge them most
liberally."
"Fust, then, you called me a coward. Do you take that back?"
"Willingly I do."
"So fur good; an' now for tother proposal I hev to make. I don't
acknowledge yur right to this clarin'. I've made it; an' call it my
own, as a sovereign citizen of these United States; an' I don't care a
cuss for pre-emption right, since I don't believe in any man's right to
move me off o' the groun' I've clared. But I ain't so durned pertickler
'bout this hyur bit. Another 'll answer my bizness equally as well--
maybe better--an' ef ye'll pay me for my _improvements_, ye can take
both clarin' an' cabin, an' hev no more muss about it. Them's my
proposals."
"How much do you expect for these improvements? At what sum do you
value them?"
I trembled as I awaited the answer. My poor purse felt light as it lay
against my bosom--far lighter than the heart within: though that had
been heavier but an hour before. I knew that the sack contained less
than two hundred dollars, in notes of the Planters' Bank; and I feared
that such a sum would never satisfy the expectations of the squatter.
"Wal, stranger," replied he, after a pause, "thur worth a good wheen o'
dollars; but I shan't valley 'em myself. I'll leave that part o' the
bizness to a third individooal--my friend as stands thur; an' who's a
just man, an's been some'at o' a lawyer too. He'll say what's fair
atween us. Won't ye, Josh?"
I thought this rather a familiar style of address, on the part of the
squatter, towards his clerical and saint-like friend; but I refrained
from showing my astonishment.
"Oh, yes," replied the other, "I'll value the property with pleasure--
that is, if the gentleman desires me to do so."
"How much do you think it worth?" I inquired with nervous anxiety.
"Well, I should say that, for the improvements Mr Holt has made, a
hundred dollars would be a fair compensation."
"A hundred dollars?"
"Yes--in cash, of course, I mean."
"Will you be satisfied with that sum?" said I, turning to Holt for the
answer.
"Parfitly satisfied--so long's it's in cash."
"I agree to give it then."
"All right, strenger! a bargain's a bargain. You kin shell out the
dollars; and I'll gie ye pursession afore this gentleman--who'll witness
it in writin', ef you like."
"I want no writing. I can trust to your word."
It was no flattery: I felt at the moment that the squatter--rudely as he
had acted--was still possessed of an honourable principle; and I knew
that, under the circumstances, his word would not only be as good as his
bond, but _better_! I made no hesitation, therefore; but, counting out
the money, placed it upon the stump--alongside that curious document,
impaled there by the blade of the squatter's knife.
"When 'ud ye like to take pursession?" asked the outgoing tenant.
"At your convenience," I replied, wishing to behave as courteously as
possible.
"It won't take _me_ long to move. My furniter ain't very cumbersome;
an' I kud let ye in to-morrow, ef 't wan't that I hev some unexpected
bizness with my friend hyur. Say day arter the morrow? Ef ye'll kum
then, ye'll find me ready to deliver up. Will that answer for ye?"
"Admirably!" was my reply.
"All right, then! I'd ask ye in, but thur's nothin' to gie
you--'ceptin' that piece o' deer-meat, an' it's raw. Besides, strenger,
I've some partickler _bizness jest now_, that I'm 'bleeged to see to."
"Oh, never mind! I shall not need any refreshment till I reach
Swampville."
"Wal, then, I'll bid you good-mornin' at the same time wishin' you luck
o' your bargin."
"Thanks--good morning!"
I leaped into the saddle, and turned my horse's head towards the
entrance of the enclosure. I should have given him the touch to go
forward with more reluctance, had I not perceived the fair Lilian
gliding out of the cabin, and proceeding in the same direction! Two or,
three of the bars had been replaced by the clerical visitor; and she had
gone, apparently, to remove them. Was it simple courtesy, or a pretence
to speak with me? My heart heaved with a tumultuous joy, as I fancied
that the latter might be her motive. When I reached the entrance, the
bars were down; and the young girl stood leaning against one of the
uprights--her round white arm embracing the post. Envied piece of
timber!
"Promise me, we shall meet again?" said I, bending down, and speaking in
a half-whisper.
She looked back towards the cabin with a timid glance. We were not
observed. The two men had gone into the horse-shed. In her fingers, I
noticed the flower of a bignonia. She had taken it from among the
golden tresses of her hair. Her cheek rivalled the crimson of its
corolla, as she flung the blossom upon the saddle-bow.
"Promise me!" I repeated in a more earnest tone.
"Yes--yes!" she replied in a soft low voice, that resembled the whisper
of an angel; and then, hearing noises from the house, she passed
hurriedly away. "Yes--yes--!" cried the mimic thrush, as I rode on
through the tall tulip-trees. "Yes--yes!" repeated a thousand rival
songsters; or were the sounds I heard but the echoes of her voice, still
pealing through the glad chambers of my heart?