"With wild surprise,
As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,
A stupid moment motionless."
THOMSON'S SEASONS.
A couple of hours elapsed before Waqua made his appearance, after
disposing of his skins and venison. He had exchanged them for such
articles as his savage taste fancied, among which Arundel noticed a
small mirror, in a brass frame, hung like a medal on his breast, and a
red woollen sash tied around his waist. As the Indian, thus bedecked,
entered the room, it was with an increase of dignity becoming one
possessed of such splendid ornaments, whereat, however, Arundel found
it difficult to repress a smile. But it was important to the
maintenance of their new friendship that no such levity should be
perceived, which might have aroused the resentment of the savage.
Suppressing then the feeling, and regarding his tawny friend with a
face of welcome, the young man said:
"You look bravely, Sachem; it is a pity the Indian girls do not see
you."
"They will see," said the Indian, "when Waqua returns to his village.
Look," he continued, presenting the mirror to Arundel, and, unable to
conceal his admiration, "it is a still spring in an open plain."
"You will not be obliged now to leave the wigwam and seek the clear
water when you wish to paint your face."
"Waqua thanks the white man," said the Indian, gazing admiringly at
himself in the mirror, "for the clear frozen water which he can carry
with him wherever he goes. Waqua will never more be alone, for
whenever he pleases he may look into the bright frozen water and see a
warrior. Let me behold my brother in the wonderful medicine."
He held up the glass to Arundel, and laughed, as he saw the
reflection.
"My brother's face is now in the frozen water," he said, "and whenever
I look into it, I shall see my brother as well as Waqua."
"And trust me, Waqua, that I will be a true friend unto thee. I do
begin to think that the extraordinary liking of the knight for thy
race is not misplaced."
"Speaks my brother of Soog-u-gest, of the white chief who lives away
from his people in the forest?"
"I speak of the Knight of the Golden Melice, of him whom the Indians
call Soog-u-gest, or the eagle. I had left his lodge but a short time
when Heaven sent thee to my aid."
"The tall, white chief, men say, is not like other white men. He loves
the forest children, and they love him."
"Love begets love, and one noble quality attracts another. But it is
my turn, Waqua, to show you hospitality; and to a strong, healthy
fellow like you, dinner, methinks, can never come amiss."
The meal which, upon the order of Arundel, was served up, seemed to
meet with the unqualified approbation of the Indian. Yet this is an
inference derived, not from the manner in which he partook of the
repast, but from the quantity which he ate. Although unacquainted with
the mode of using a knife and fork, and, therefore, compelled to
depend upon the instruments furnished by nature, there was nothing in
his conduct that resembled ill-breeding. He accepted, with a grave
courtesy, whatever was offered, eating deliberately, and expressing no
preference for one thing over another. His entertainer fancied that,
from time to time, he cast a stolen glance, as if watching motions in
order to accommodate himself to them. However that may be, the young
white man was greatly pleased with the untutored politeness of his red
companion, and desirous to please him in all respects, did not deny
his guest the stimulus of strong water; taking care, nevertheless,
that the wine drunk should be in too small quantities to affect him
injuriously. Of this, Waqua partook with peculiar zest, and it is
fortunate that he had one more prudent than himself to stop him before
temperate indulgence became excess. For so great is the delight which
the Indian temperament derives from the use of intoxicating drinks,
that it is difficult to regulate the appetite. Brought up without much
self-control, if civilization be taken as a standard,--regardless of
the past, heedless of the future, and mindful only of the
present,--the wild child of nature quaffs with eager joy the
fire-water, which seems to bring him inspiration, and to extend the
bounds of existence.
"Waqua knows," said the savage, holding up his cup at the end of the
meal, "that the Great Spirit loves his white children very much, else
never would he have given them the dancing fire-water that streams
through me like the sun through morning clouds."
"Beware," said Arundel, "that it be not more like the lightning, which
marks its path with destruction. But, Waqua, come thou now with me. I
saw no red cloth in thy lodge, and there was but little paint in thy
pot, and I know where there is plenty."
"My brother is an open hand, and will make Waqua's wigwam as gay as
the breast of the Gues-ques-kes-cha."
With these words, the Indian followed Arundel into the street, walking
in his tracks, and the two pursued their way in the direction of one
of the principal store-houses.
The street led directly by the house of the Assistant Spikeman, and,
as they passed, the eyes of the young man were busy, as was natural,
to discover traces of his mistress. Nor was he doomed to
disappointment. As he came opposite, a casement opened, a small white
hand was thrust out, and beckoned to him. Thus invited, Arundel
stepped within the door, whither he was followed by the savage. In
those days, the simple forest children thought there was no harm in
asking for a hospitality they were ever ready to grant themselves, and
which they considered a duty; nor inasmuch as they never attempted to
take away anything by violence, but thankfully accepted whatever was
offered to them, were their visits generally discouraged. Indeed, the
importance of treating them with indulgence was sedulously inculcated
by both elders and magistrates, as being conducive to their own
security as well as from higher motives. The expediency of such
conduct was so obvious that few were found to disregard it. Hence the
Indians, on their visits to the settlement, were accustomed, if they
wanted food, or to enter the houses for any other purpose, to step in
with the same freedom almost as into their own wigwams. If now and
then a circumstance occurred inconsistent with the sacred duty of
hospitality, it was not considered as reflecting disgrace upon the
whole community, but only on the sordid churl who was the occasion of
it, and whose domicile was ever afterwards carefully avoided.
The young man and his dusky companion were met by Prudence, who, while
conducting them into a room, whispered:
"Why, Master Miles, who expected to see you? People said you was ever
so far away in the woods, living with bears and wolves. Have you got
one here?"
"Poh, poh! pretty Prudence, no one hath better reason to look for me
than thyself, seeing thy message brought me. As for my copper friend,
he is the gentlest savage that ever took a scalp. Do not be
frightened, and clap thy hand on thy head: he will none of thine. But
thy mistress, where is she?"
"I declare, Master Miles, you have scared almost all the breath out of
my body. Oh! how my heart beats! Follow me quick, for I want to get
out of the way."
"Waqua will wait for his brother here," said the young man, turning to
his follower, whose eyes he noticed were fastened on a full length
portrait hanging on the wall; "for which reason," he added "and,
during my absence, may make acquaintance ith the venerable ancestor of
Master Spikeman, who hath followed his descendant's fortunes across
the sea."
He waited for no reply, such was his impatience to see his mistress;
but, preceded by Prudence, hastily left the apartment, and was ushered
into the presence of the young lady.
One who saw Eveline Dunning would never have wondered that her lover
had followed her to the new world. She was one of those charming
beings who are irresistibly attractive--whom to behold is to love, and
whose presence "clothes the meanest thing in light." Her features were
regular, her complexion delicate and brilliant, her eyes blue and
sparkling, and her hair of a rich brown. Those blue eyes were commonly
calm and soft, though there were times when they could kindle up and
flash, and the full red lips became compressed, hinting at an energy
of character which required only circumstances to call it forth into
exercise. Her person was of the ordinary height, and most perfectly
formed, and she moved with a grace which only faultless proportions
and high breeding can impart.
"My Eveline, my best and my dearest," said Arundel, imprinting a kiss
upon the blushing cheek she nevertheless offered him, even before the
considerate Prudence had retired, shutting the door after her, "how
blessed am I, once more to breathe the air sweetened by thy breath."
He led her to a seat, and, retaining her hand, sat down by her side.
"And how dearly I love to have thee near me, Miles," she answered;
"the perils I make thee encounter for my sake too plainly tell."
"Nay, sweet, the danger is only in thy imagination. Conscious that the
right is on our side, we may defy Master Spikeman and all his wicked
devices, certain that we shall yet triumph over them."
"Would that I felt thy confidence, but sometimes I am quite sad."
"Dearest Eveline, why thus cast down?" exclaimed Arundel, looking at
her anxiously and kissing off a tear. "Has anything happened? What
makes thee unhappy? Of what art afraid?"
"Not cast down, not unhappy, not afraid, Miles, but anxious on thy
account, and weary of imprisonment. My jailer hath lately dropped some
threats respecting thee which have filled me with apprehension, and it
was in consequence of my grief thereat, and of something I said, that
Prudence, without my knowledge, sent thee a message, as she afterwards
told me."
"And I hope thou art not angry with her for being the cause of my
present happiness?"
"I feel not like chiding her or any one," answered Eveline, smiling,
"but would speak seriously during the few moments we are together. Oh!
Miles, I have it from a sure hand, (though thou must not inquire
thereafter), that Master Spikeman is endeavoring to poison the minds
of the Governor and of the Assistants with false reports against thee,
such as that thou art disaffected against the government. Oh! Miles,
be prudent; for if anything were to happen to thee it would make me
very unhappy."
"The lying varlet! the cozening knave!" exclaimed the young man,
indignantly. "So this is the way whereby he designs to accomplish his
purpose! But I defy his machinations. I have an advantage over him
whereof he knows not."
"What is that, Miles?" inquired Eveline, seeing that he hesitated.
"He, whose the right is, hath every advantage over him in the wrong,"
answered her lover, rather evasively; "but would that I could persuade
thee to cut the Gordian knot and put an end to this torturing
suspense, by flying with me, and giving me a lawful right to be thy
protector according to the wishes of thy father."
"Cease, Miles, and do not importune me in a matter wherein the
impulses of my heart make me but too ready to forget the suggestions
of prudence."
"But how long mean you to submit to this unjust violence?"
"I know not. Be assured, however, that nothing but dire necessity
shall induce me to take a step, the thought of which burns my cheeks
with blushes."
"Do you distrust me, Eveline?" said Arundel, reproachfully.
"No; but it becomes Eveline Dunning; it becomes one whom thou hast
thought worthy to be sought for across a stormy ocean; it becomes the
descendant of a long line of honorable ancestors; it becomes a woman,
whether in the thickly peopled city or in the wilderness, among
strangers or with her own kindred, to avoid even the appearance of
evil. Much will I endure, and long will I bear my thraldom, before I
will allow the thought of such a mode of deliverance to harbor in my
mind."
"My judgment tells me thou art right, Eveline, however much my heart
rebels; but is there no emergency which can make thee cast off this
slavery?"
"None such has arisen, and whatever difficulties may harrass me, I
hope to be equal to them."
"And years, long years, may drag along with weary feet, while we are
wasting our youth in hopeless sighs over the tyranny of a heartless
villain, lingering in this dreary land, where a smile is a vanity and
a light heart a crime."
"Does it pain thee so much," inquired Eveline, half reproachfully, "to
remain in the wilderness?"
"Nay, lovely one, where thou art is no wilderness, but a paradise.
Hither I came, attracted by the love that binds my soul to thine, and
this land will I never leave alone. A cabin with thee in these wilds
were better than a palace ungraced by thy presence."
"I thank thee, Miles, and thy words strengthen my courage. So long as
thou feelest thus, I cannot be unhappy. But shouldst thou ever change;
shouldst thou weary of the delays and vexations which thy love for
Eveline Dunning doth impose, hesitate not to avow it, and thou shalt
be free, though my heart break in bidding thee farewell."
"Eveline, dearest Eveline," cried her lover, catching her to his
bosom, "how canst thou speak thus? He who hath found heaven will never
voluntarily resign it."
But why pursue a discourse which can have but little interest except
for the speakers? The reader will suppose the further conversation
which would naturally take place between two young persons in their
situation. Owing to the vigilance of Spikeman, it was a long time (so
at least it seemed to them) since they had met, and the interview was
sweeter for that reason. While the precious moments are flitting by
them unheeded, let us return to Waqua.
The Indian was so absorbed in the contemplation of the portrait, that
he paid no attention to the jesting observation made by Arundel as he
left the room, but continued motionless, gazing fixedly upon it. It
represented a man of middle age, of a stern and somewhat forbidding
countenance, standing with the open palm of the right hand thrown
forward, as if he were addressing the spectator. It was exceedingly
well done,--so graceful was the attitude, so boldly stood out the
figure, so admirable was the coloring, so illusive the air of life. It
was the first portrait that Waqua had seen, and he very naturally
mistook it for a living person.
Seeing, as he supposed, a man with eyes fastened on him, standing in
an attitude soliciting attention, and as if only waiting until the
conversation between those who entered should cease, to address him,
Waqua, with instinctive politeness, had stopped, and looking full at
the painting, awaited the speech. He was somewhat surprised and
scandalized, under the circumstances, at the garrulity of his
companions, and, to confess the truth, Arundel sunk considerably in
his estimation. However, he made all allowances for the rude manners
of the whites and differences of customs, though hardly restrained by
such considerations from uttering a rebuke for the others' want of
respect to age, and to the master of the house, for whom he took the
picture. As, after Arundel and the girl left the apartment, the figure
remained standing, with eyes fastened on Waqua, and his hand
continually extended, the Indian, considering it an invitation to be
seated, sat down in a chair. He expected now to be addressed, and
modestly dropping his eyes waited for what should be said. Thus sat
Waqua, until, surprised at the continued silence of the other, he
raised his eyes, and beheld him still in the same position, with lips
partly open, yet emitting no sound. The situation of the Indian now
became more and more embarrassing, and he hesitated what course to
pursue. Greatly perplexed, he turned the matter over and over, until
finally he reached the conclusion that this was a mode of welcome
among the white men, and that the politeness of the other kept him
silent, in order that the visitor should first take up the word, in
which opinion he was confirmed by the sedate and unmoved expression of
the face. With such a notion occupying his mind, he rose from his
seat, and throwing the beaver robe a little off the right shoulder to
allow opportunity for gesticulation, he stood before the picture, and
after a moment of grave thought addressed it.
"Waqua," he said, "is a young man, and ashamed to speak first in the
presence of his elder; but the customs of the white men are very
different from those of their red brethren, and perhaps among his
white brothers the young men speak first that their folly may appear.
Because he thinks his white brother desires him to speak, he will make
a very little speech."
"The silent chief (so he called the picture, not knowing what other
name to use) knows that Waqua is a friend, because he sees him in
company with the white man who went away with the chief's daughter
with the strawberry lips. Waqua only asks the hospitality of the
silent chief, and permission to remain in his lodge till his friend
returns."
Thus having spoken, Waqua gathered up his robe upon his shoulder, and
awaited a reply.
But in vain. Still the figure preserved silence, and maintained the
same immovable attitude, gazing on him with eyes from which there was
no escaping, and which seemed to pierce into his soul. The uneasiness
of Waqua increased. He felt no fear, but a confusion of thought which
threatened to obscure entirely his faculties. The idea crossed his
mind that the man was dumb, but that accounted only for the silence.
Why the immobility? If he were dumb, at least he could walk, for
well-formed limbs were visible. But the man was quite still, not even
winking, only fastening his eyes steadfastly on his own. To the
excited imagination of the Indian, the eyes began to assume a deeper
sternness, and he found it more and more difficult to withdraw his
own. Suddenly, a thought darted through his mind, which made him
shiver all over, and spring from his seat. The idea of fascination
caused the start. He had more than once beheld the black snake
extended on the ground, charming, with his glittering eyes the
anguished bird which, with fainter and fainter screams, striving to
delay a fate it could not escape, kept flying round and round in
constantly diminishing circles, until it fell into the jaws of the
destroyer. The same fatal influence he had seen exercised upon rabbits
and other small game, the prey of the snake, and he did not doubt that
a like fascination was attempted to be practiced on himself, and that
the man was a conjurer. The thought threw him into a rage, and he
determined to take vengeance for the insult. Drawing, therefore, his
tomahawk from his girdle and brandishing it over his head, he
exclaimed,
"Waqua is a warrior, and not a bird to be made weak by a white
medicine."
But before the enraged Indian could cast the weapon from his hand, he
felt his arm suddenly arrested, and, turning, beheld the laughing face
of Prudence Rix.
"Stop, stop!" cried the girl, hardly able to speak for merriment;
"what are you going to do? It is not a man, but only a painting."
It is not probable that the Indian perfectly comprehended the
explanation of Prudence, who, in spite of her affected fears, had
been, without his knowledge, an amused spectator of his conduct; but
her interposition had the effect to prevent any violence, especially,
as upon looking again at the portrait, he felt no longer the awe which
had oppressed him, and therefore knew that the charm had lost its
power. He lowered the tomahawk to his side, and addressed himself to
her.
"What white man ever entered the wigwam of Waqua and was not invited
to a seat on his mat? Who can say that Waqua fastened his eyes on him
like a snake?"
"But see," said the girl, advancing to the portrait, and passing her
hand over its surface; "it is nothing but a cunning painting. Come and
satisfy thyself."
Waqua complied, in part, with Prudence's invitation, feeling some
contempt for a man who would permit such an indignity and advancing to
the picture regarded it with keen and inquisitive glances. He refused,
however, to touch the figure, until Prudence, taking his hand in hers,
placed it on the canvas. But no sooner did he feel the flat surface,
than, uttering a cry of astonishment, he leaped backward, almost
overturning Prudence in his haste, keeping his eyes on the picture,
and ejaculating twice or thrice the expression, "Ugh!"
"What a simple savage thou art," exclaimed Prudence, "I tell thee it
cannot bite. It can neither hear nor see, and thou art a man to be
scared by it!"
The Indian felt the taunt, conveyed quite as much in the tone as in
the words, and without replying, but as if to show that he was above
the feeling of fear, holding the tomahawk in one hand, he passed the
other over the whole surface, as far as he could reach, winding up the
achievement with eyes wild with wonder, and snorting out divers
astonished "ughs!"