The apparition--for it had something of the character of one--restored
my equanimity. Holt was with the Mormon train; and of course Lilian
also. It may seem strange that this knowledge should have given me
satisfaction--that a belief, but yesterday grieving me, should to-day
bring gladness!
The apparent anomaly is easily explained. It was the consequence of a
change in the situation. My confidence in the success of our scheme had
now become strengthened--almost to a certainty. So deftly had we taken
our measures, that we need apprehend no great difficulty in attaining
the end aimed at. Among the Saints, there was not the slightest
suspicion of our character--at least none had yet shown itself. We
should be free to come and go, as we pleased: since the very nature of
our contract required it. Camp and caravan would be alike accessible to
us--at all hours, I might say--and surely opportunities would not be
lacking for the accomplishment of our purpose?
Only one object was worth regarding: the will of Lilian herself. She
might still refuse to become a runaway? She might not consent to
forsake her father? In that case, our efforts would be idle indeed!
Had I reason to expect such a perverse contingency? Surely not? Though
my own influence might be gone, her sister would still have the power to
persuade her? Her eyes once opened to the conspiracy that threatened
her, surely but one thought could arise in that virtuous bosom--how to
escape from it? "No--no," was my concluding reflection, spoken in
soliloquy, "there need be no fear of opposition in that quarter. True,
Lilian is still a child; but her virtue is that of a virgin heart. Her
sister's story, when told to her, will arouse her to a sense of her own
danger. She will be ready, as we, to adopt measures for averting it."
Drawing comfort from this reflection, I was turning to attend to my
horse. The gallant creature had been sadly neglected of late, and
needed my care. A huge Mexican _silla_, that with its trappings
half-covered its body, would have sufficiently disguised him; but I had
not much fear of his being recognised. Stebbins and Holt had both seen
him--once only, and then under such circumstances that it was scarcely
possible they could have noticed him. Otherwise, they might have
remembered him readily enough. Such a noble steed, once seen, would not
easily be forgotten. I had no fear, however; and was about to remove
the saddle, when an object presented itself to my eyes that interrupted
my intention--causing me to remain fixed and immobile. In the open
ground, scarcely twenty paces from where I stood, was a form that fell
upon the eye like a beam of empyrean light in the midst of deepest
darkness--a girl of golden roseate hue, with a _chevelure_ of yellow
hair hanging to her haunches in all its lustrous luxuriance! Scarcely
twenty paces separated me from Lilian Holt: for need I say that it was
Lilian herself who was standing before me?
Instinctively, I noted changes. The wax-like smoothness, and, to a
certain extent, the whiteness of her complexion, had yielded to the
fervid rays of the prairie sun; but the slight embrowning appeared
rather an improvement: as the bloom upon the peach, or the russet on the
nectarine, proves the superior richness of the fruit. It had toned down
the red upon her cheeks, but the glow was still sufficiently vivid. I
observed or fancied another change--in her stature. She appeared to
have grown larger and taller--in both respects, almost equalling her
sister--and resembling the latter in that full development of form,
which was one of the characteristic features of her queen-like beauty.
These were the only changes external. Even the simple costume--the old
homespun frock of yellowish stripe--still enveloped her form; no longer
hanging loosely as of yore, but presenting a more sparing fit on account
of the increased dimensions of the wearer. The string of pearls, too--
false pearls, poor thing!--yet encircled her throat, whose now fuller
outline was more capable of displaying them. A pleasing reflection
crossed my mind at the moment, that shaped itself into an interrogatory:
might there have been no motive for further adornment?
As erst, her little feet were naked--gleaming with roseate translucence
against the green background of the herbage. She was standing when I
first saw her: not in a position of rest, but with one foot pressing the
turf, the other slightly retired, as if she had just paused in her
steps. She was not fronting me, but half-turned. She appeared to have
come as near as she intended, and was about going off again in an
oblique direction: like the startled antelope, that, despite its
timidity, stops to gaze upon the "object that has alarmed it." So short
a time had my eyes been averted from the path by which she must have
approached, I might well have fancied that she had suddenly sprung out
of the earth--as Cytherea from the sea! Equally brilliant was the
apparition--to me, of far more absorbing interest. Her large eyes were
fixed upon me in a gaze of wondering curiosity--a curiosity which the
picturesque habiliments and savage character of my toilet were well
calculated to provoke. Her examination of me was soon ended; and she
walked off in the direction towards which she had already turned her
steps. She seemed scarcely satisfied, however: as I observed that she
looked repeatedly back. What thought was prompting her to this? Women
have keen perceptions--in intuition almost equalling instinct in its
perceptive power. Could she have a suspicion? No, no: the thing was
improbable--impossible!
The path she was following would conduct her to the bank of the river--
about a hundred yards above where our tents had been pitched, and a like
distance from the nearest of the waggons. Her object in going thither
was evident. A tin water-can, hanging by its iron handle over her
wrist, proclaimed her errand. On reaching the river, she did not
proceed to fill the vessel; but, placing it near the water's edge, sat
down beside it. The bank, slightly elevated above the stream, offered a
sort of projecting bench. Upon this she had seated herself--in such an
attitude that her limbs hung over, until one foot was immersed in the
water. Her long hair lay spread upon the grass behind her; and with her
head drooping forward, she appeared to gaze into the crystal depths of
the stream--as intently, as if mirrored there she saw the form upon
which the thoughts most delighted to dwell. Up to this point, I had
watched her every movement. But only by stealth and in silence: since I
knew that eyes were upon me. Just then, however, most of the gazers
retired from our tents--a call to supper within the corral having
summoned them away. For all that, I dared not approach the girl. The
act would have appeared strange; and even she might desire to shun the
too _free_ intrusion of my savage presence--perhaps flee from it
altogether? The opportunity of speaking with her was sufficiently
tempting. Such another might not soon recur? I trembled at the thought
of losing it. What was to be done? I might have sent Marian. She was
still inside her tent, where she had taken shelter from the bold glances
of her vulgar admirers. She did not yet know that Lilian was outside.
I might have given her notice of the circumstance, and deputed her to
speak with her sister; but I had certain reasons for not following this
course.
At this crisis an idea occurred to me, that promised to aid me in
obtaining the interview I longed for. My Arab had not yet been given to
the grass! Near where Lilian was seated, the herbage was luxuriant--
more so than anywhere around. Upon it I could picket my steed, or hold
him in hand, while he should browse? I lost not a minute in removing
the saddle, and adjusting the halter; and scarcely another in
approaching the spot where the young girl was seated. I drew near,
however, with due circumspection--fearful that by a too brusque approach
I might hasten her departure. I gave my horse to the grass--now and
then guiding him with a pull upon the halter, which I still held in my
hand. The young girl saw that I was gradually nearing her, and looked
twice or three times towards me--not with any air of alarm. Rather of
interest, I thought; but this may have been only a fancy. My horse
appeared to share her attention--indeed, more than share it: since she
fixed her eyes upon him frequently, and looked longer at him each time!
Was it the noble form that was attracting her admiration? Or was there
something that called up a recollection! She might remember the horse?
"Oh, Lilian! would that I could speak to you as myself! How my heart
yearns to give and receive some token of recognition? But no--not yet.
I would not declare myself, till assured that that recognition might be
welcome. Not till I could learn, whether the tender tie that bound our
hearts was still unloosed--whether its too slender thread was yet
unbroken!"
I had resolved to explore the secret chambers of her heart; and this it
was that rendered me desirous of anticipating any interview that might
occur with her sister. Perhaps too easily might I obtain the knowledge
of which I was in search? I might reach, only to _rue_ it? As I drew
near, my hopes of being permitted to address myself to her increased.
She still kept her seat, and made no attempt to shun me. I had
approached within speaking distance. Words were upon my tongue; when a
harsh voice, coming from behind, interrupted, at the same instant, both
my speech and my intention.