This second purchase and payment rendered necessary a communication with
my Nashville friend. Fortunately, Swampville had a mail; and, to avail
myself of it, I rode direct for the settlement. On my return, I found
the river-town, figuratively speaking, on fire. Short as bad been the
period of my absence, it had been marked by an incident of no ordinary
character. That morning's mail had conveyed to the settlement the
intelligence of a rare and interesting event--the discovery of the _gold
placers_ of California. I had heard rumours of this before--only half
believed, and not yet reaching to Swampville. Returned emigrants from
California were now reported, as having arrived in Saint Louis and other
frontier towns--bringing with them, not only the full account of the
gold discovery, but its confirmation, in the shape of large "chunks" of
gold-bearing quartz, and bags of the yellow dust itself. The marvellous
tale was no longer questioned, or doubted. The mail had brought
newspapers from New Orleans and Saint Louis, giving detailed accounts of
the digging of Sutter's mill-race by the disbanded soldiers of the
"Mormon Battalion;" of the _crevasse_ caused by the water, which had
laid open the wonderful auriferous deposits; and describing also the
half frantic excitement which the news had produced these populous
cities.
In this, Swampville had not been slow to imitate them. I found the
little village on the _qui vive_: not only the idlers showing an
interest in the extraordinary intelligence; but the business men of the
place being equally startled out of their sobriety. A "company" was
already projected, in which many well-to-do men had registered their
names; and even Colonel Kipp talked of transporting his _penates_ across
the great plains, and swinging the Jackson sign upon the shores of the
Pacific. Swampville was smitten with a golden mania, that seemed to
promise its speedy depopulation.
Though many of my old _camarados_ of the Mexican campaign found fresh
vent for their energies in this new field of enterprise, for me it had
no attractions whatever. I therefore resisted the solicitations of the
Swampvillians to "jine thar company"--in which I was offered the
compliment of a command. On that day, and at that hour, not for all the
gold in California would I have forsaken my new home in the forest--
under whose "boundless contiguity of shade" sparkled, in my eyes, "a
metal more attractive." Instead of longing for the far shores of the
Pacific, I longed only to return to the banks of Mud Creek; and chafed
at the necessary delay that hindered me from gratifying my wish. Even
the generous hospitality of Colonel Kipp--amiable under the influence of
golden dreams--even the smiles of the simpering Alvina, and the more
_brave_ coquetry of Car'line--now become a decided admirer of my yellow
buttons--were not sufficient to preserve my spirits from _ennui_. Only
at meals did I make my appearance at the hotel--at all other times,
seeking to soothe the impassioned pulsations of my heart in the dark
depths of the forest. There I would wander for hours, not listing where
I went; but ever finding myself, as if by some instinct, upon the path
that conducted in the direction of the creek! It was some solace to
listen to the notes of the wild-woods--the songs of birds and bee--for
these had become associated in my mind with the melodious tones of
Lilian's voice--to look upon the forest flowers; more especially upon
the encarmined blossom of the bignonia--now to me a symbol of the
sweetest sentiment. The one most prized of all, I had carefully
preserved. In a glass I had placed it, on the dressing-table of my
chamber, with its peduncle immersed in water.
My zealous care only procured me a chagrin. On returning from one of my
rambles, I found the flower upon the floor, crushed by some spiteful
heel? Was it thy heel, Caroline Kipp? In its place was a bunch of
hideous gilly-flowers and yellow daffodils, of the dimensions of a
drum-head cabbage--placed there either to mock my regard, or elicit my
admiration! In either case, I resolved upon a _revanche_. By its
wound, the bignonia smelt sweeter than ever; and though I could not
restore the pretty blossom to its graceful campanulate shape, from that
time forward it appeared in my buttonhole--to the slight torture, I
fancied, of the backwoods coquette.
In the two days during which I was denied sight of her my love for
Lilian Holt was fast ripening into a passion--which absence only seemed
to amplify. No doubt the contrast of common faces--such as those I
observed in Swampville--did something towards heightening my admiration.
There was another contrast that had at this time an influence on my
heart's inclinings. To an eye, fatigued with dwelling long and
continuously on the dark complexions of the south--the olivine hue of
Aztec and Iberian skins--there was a relief in the radiance of this
carmined blonde, that, apart from her absolute loveliness, was piquant
from the novelty and rareness of the characteristic. Additional
elements of attraction may have been: the _mise en scene_ that
surrounded her; the unexpected discovery of such a precious jewel in so
rude a casket; the romantic incident of our first encounter; and the
equally peculiar circumstances attending our second and last interview.
All these may have combined in weaving around my spirit a spell, that
now embraced, and was likely to influence, every act of my future
existence. Therefore, on the morning of the third day, as I mounted my
horse, and turned his head in the direction of Holt's clearing, it was
not with any design of dispossessing the squatter. Occupied with sweet
love-dreams, I had as yet given no thought to the ruder realities of
life. I had formed no plan for colonising--neither towards entering
upon possession, nor extending the "improvement" I had twice purchased.
Notwithstanding both purchase and payment, the squatter might still
continue to hold his cabin and clearing--and share with me the disputed
land. Welcome should I make him, on one condition--the condition of
becoming his guest--constant or occasional--in either way, so long as I
might have the opportunity of enjoying the presence of his fair
daughter, and to her demonstrating my heart's devotion. Some such idea,
vaguely conceived, flitted across my mind, as I entered upon my second
journey to Mud Creek. My ostensible object was to take formal
possession of an estate, and turn out its original owner. But my heart
was in no unison with such an end. It recoiled from, or rather had it
forgotten, its purpose. Its throbbings were directed to a different
object: guiding me on a more joyful and auspicious errand--_the errand
of love_.