CHAPTER VIII
OLD FRIENDS
The sunrise gun awoke me. I rolled out of my blanket, saw the whitecannon-smoke floating above the trees, ran down to the river, andplunged in.
When I returned, the Sagamore had already broken his fast, and oncemore was engaged in painting himself--this time in a most ghastlycombination of black and white, the startling parti-coloureddecorations splitting his visage into two equal sections, so that hiseyes gleamed from a black and sticky mask, and his mouth and chin andjaw were like the features of a weather-bleached skull.
"More war, O Mayaro, my brother?" I asked in a bantering voice. "Everyday you prepare for battle with a confidence forever new; every nightthe army snores in peace. Yet, at dawn, when you have greeted the sun,you renew your war-paint. Such praiseworthy perseverance ought to berewarded."
"It has already been rewarded," remarked the Indian, with quiet humour.
"In what manner?" I asked, puzzled.
"In the manner that all warriors desire to be rewarded," he replied,secretly amused.
"I thought," said I, "that the reward all warriors desire is a scalptaken in battle."
He cast a sly glance at me and went on painting.
"Mayaro," said I, disturbed, "is it possible that you have been outforest-running while I've slept?"
He shot a quick look at me, full of delighted malice.
And "Ho!" said he. "My brother sleeps sounder than a winter bear. ThreeErie scalps hang stretched, hooped, and curing in the morning sun,behind the bush-hut. Little brother, has the Sagamore done well?"
Straightway I whirled on my heel and walked out and around the hut.Strung like drying fish on a willow wand three scalps hung in thesunshine, the soft July breeze stirring the dead hair. And as soon as Isaw them I knew they were indeed Erie scalps.
Repressing my resentment and disgust, I lingered a moment to examinethem, then returned to the hut, where the Siwanois, grave as acatamount at his toilet, squatted in a patch of sunshine, polishing hisfeatures.
"So you've done this business every night as soon as I slept," said I."You've crept beyond our outer pickets, risking your life, imperillingthe success of this army, merely to satisfy your vanity. This is notwell, Mayaro."
He said proudly: "Mayaro is safe. What warrior of the Cat-People need aSagamore of the Siwanois dread?"
"Do you count them warriors then, or wizards?"
"Demons have teeth and claws. Look upon their scalp-locks, Loskiel!"
I strove to subdue my rising anger.
"You are the only reliable guide in the army today who can take usstraight to Catharines-town," I said. "If we lose you we must trust toHanierri and his praying Oneidas, who do not know the way even toWyalusing as well as you do. Is this just to the army? Is it just tome, O Sagamore? My formal orders are that you shall rest and run norisk until this army starts from Lake Otsego. My brother Mayaro knewthis. I trusted him and set no sentry at the hut door. Is this well,brother?"
The Sagamore looked at me with eyes utterly void of expression.
"Is Mayaro a prisoner, then?" he asked quietly.
Instantly I knew that he was not to be dealt with that way. Theslightest suspicion of any personal restraint or of any militarypressure brought to bear on him might alienate him from our cause, ifnot, perhaps, from me personally.
I said: "The Siwanois are free people. No lodge door is locked on them,not even in the Long House. They are at liberty to come and go as theeight winds rise and wane--to sleep when they choose, to wake when itpleases them, to go forth by day or night, to follow the war-trail, tostrike their enemies where they find them.
"But now, to one of them--to the Mohican Mayaro, Sagamore of theSiwanois, Sachem of the Enchanted Clan, is given the greatest missionever offered to any Delaware since Tamenund put on his snowy panoply offeathers and flew through the forest and upward into the air-ocean ofeternal light.
"A great army of his embattled brothers trusts in him to guide them sothat the Iroquois Confederacy shall be pierced from Gate to Gate, andthe Long House go roaring up in flames.
"There are many valiant deeds to be accomplished on this comingmarch--deeds worthy of a war-chief of the Lenni-Lenape--deeds fitted todo honour to a Sagamore of the Magic Wolf.
"I only ask of my friend and blood-brother that he reserve himself forthese great deeds and not risk a chance bullet in ambush for the sakeof an Erie scalp or two--for the sake of a patch of mangy fur whichgrows on these Devil-Cats of Amochol."
At first his countenance was smooth and blank; as I proceeded, hebecame gravely attentive; then, as I ended, he gave me a quick,unembarrassed, and merry look.
"Loskiel," he said laughingly, "Mayaro plays with the Cat-People. Achild's skill only is needed to take their half-shed fur and dash themsqualling and spitting and kicking into Biskoonah!"
He resumed his painting with a shrug of contempt, adding:
"Amochol rages in vain. Upon this wizard a Mohican spits! One by onehis scalped acolytes tumble and thump among the dead and bloody forestleaves. The Siwanois laugh at them. Let the red sorcerer of the Senecasmake strong magic so that his cats return to life, and the vile furgrows once more where a Mohican has ripped it out!"
"Each night you go forth and scalp. Each morning you paint. Is this tocontinue, Sagamore?"
"My brother sees," he said proudly. "Cats were made for skinning."
There was nothing to do about it; no more to be said. I nowcomprehended this, as I stood lacing my rifle-shirt and watching him athis weird self-embellishment.
"The war-paint you have worn each day has seemed to me somewhatunusual," I said curiously.
He glanced sharply up at me, scowled, then said gravely:
"When a Sagamore of the Mohicans paints for a war against warriors, thepaint is different. But," he added, and his eyes blazed, and the veryscalp-lock seemed to bristle on his shaven head, "when a Lenape Sachemof the Enchanted Clan paints for war with Seneca sorcerers, he wearsalso the clean symbols of his sacred priesthood, so that he may fightbad magic with good magic, sorcery with sorcery, and defy this scarletpriest--this vile, sly Warlock Amochol!"
Truly there was no more for me to say. I dared not let him believe thathis movements were either watched or under the slightest shadow ofrestraint. I knew it was useless to urge on him the desirability ofinaction until the army moved. He might perhaps have understood me andlistened to me, were the warfare he was now engaged in only the redknight-errantry of an Indian seeking glory. But he had long since wonhis spurs.
And this feud with Amochol was something far more deadly than merewarfare; it was the clash of a Mohican Sagamore of the Sacred Clan withthe dreadful and abhorred priesthood of the Senecas--the hatred andinfuriated contempt of a noble and ordained priest for the black-magicof a sorcerer--orthodoxy, militant and terrible, scourging blasphemyand crushing its perverted acolytes at the very feet of theirAntichrist.
I began to understand this strange, stealthy slaughter in the dark,which only the eyes of the midnight sky looked down on, while I laysoundly sleeping. I knew that nothing I could say would now keep thisSiwanois at my side at night. Yet, he had been given me to guard. Whatshould I do? Major Parr might not understand--might even order theSagamore confined to barracks under guard. The slightest mistake indealing with the Siwanois might prove fatal to all our hopes of him.
All the responsibility, therefore, must rest on me; and I must use myjudgment and abide by the consequences.
Had it been, as I have said, any other nation but the Senecas, I amcertain that I could have restrained the Indian. But the combination ofSeneca, Erie, and Amochol prowling around our picket-line was too muchfor the outraged Sagamore of the Spirit Wolf. And I now comprehended itthoroughly.
As I sat thinking at our bush-hut door, the endless lines of wagonswere still passing toward Otsego Lake, piled high with stores, and Isaw Schott's riflemen filing along in escort, their tow-clothrifle-frocks wide open to their sweating chests.
Almost a
ll the troops had already marched to the lake and had pitchedtents there, while Alden's chastened regiment was damming the waters sothat when our boats were ready the dam might be broken and the highwater carry our batteaux over miles of shallow water to Tioga Point,where our main army now was concentrating.
When were the Rifles to march? I did not know. Sitting there in thesun, moodily stripping a daisy of its petals, I thought of Lois,troubled, wondering how her security and well-being might beestablished.
The hour could not be very distant now before our corps marched to thelake. What would she do? What would become of her if she still refusedto be advised by me?
As for her silly desire to go to Catharines-town, the more I thoughtabout it the less serious consideration did I give it. The thing was,of course, impossible. No soldiers' wives were to be permitted to go asfar as Wyalusing or Wyoming. Even here, at this encampment, theofficers' ladies had left, although perhaps many of them might haveremained longer with their husbands had it been known that thedeparture of the troops for Otsego Lake was to be delayed by the slowarrival of cattle and provisions.
In the meantime, the two companies of my regiment attached to thisbrigade were still out on scout with Major Parr; and when they returnedI made no doubt that we would shoulder packs, harness our wagons, andtake the lake road next morning.
And what would become of Lois? Perplexed and dejected, I wandered aboutthe willow-run, pondering the situation; sat for a while on theriver-bank to watch the batteaux and the Oneida canoes; then, everrestless with my deepening solicitude for Lois, I walked over to thefort. And the first man I laid eyes on was Lieutenant Boyd, conversingwith some ladies on the parade.
He did not see me. He had evidently returned from the main body with asmall scout the night before, and now was up and dressed in his best,spick and span and gay, fairly shining in the sunlight as he stoodleaning against a log prop, talking with these ladies where they wereseated on one of the rustic settles lately made by Alden's men.
Venturing nearer, I found that I knew all of the ladies, for one wasthe handsome wife of Captain Bleecker, of the 3rd New York, and anotherproved to be Angelina Lansing, wife of Gerrit Lansing, Ensign in thesame regiment.
The third lady was a complete surprise to me, she being that pretty andvivacious Magdalene Helmer--called Lana--the confidante of ClarissaPutnam--a bright-eyed, laughing beauty from Tribes Hill, whom I hadknown very well at Guy Park, where she often stayed with her friend,Miss Putnam, when Sir John Johnson was there.
As I recognised them, Boyd chanced to glance around, and saw me. Hesmiled and spoke to the ladies; all lifted their heads and looked in mydirection; and Lana Helmer waved her handkerchief and coolly blew me akiss from her finger-tips.
So, cap in hand, I crossed the parade, made my best bow and respects toeach in turn, replaced my cap, and saluted Lieutenant Boyd, whoreturned my salute with pretended hauteur, then grinned and offered hishand.
"See what a bower of beauty is blossomed over night in these drearybarracks, Loskiel. There seems to be some happiness left in the worldfor the poor rifleman."
"Do you remain?" I asked of Mrs. Bleecker.
"Indeed we do," she said, laughing, "provided that my husband'sregiment remains. As soon as we understood that they had not beenordered into the Indian country we packed our boxes and came up bybatteau last night. The news about my husband's regiment is true, is itnot?"
"Colonel Gansevoort's regiment is not to join General Sullivan, but isto be held to guard the Valley. I had the news yesterday for certain."
"What luck!" said Boyd, his handsome eyes fixed on Lana Helmer, whoshot at him a glance as daring. And it made me uneasy to see she meantto play coquette with such a man as Boyd; and I remembered her highspirits and bright daring at the somewhat loose gatherings at Guy Park,where every evening too much wine was drunk, and Sir John and Clarissamade no secret of the flame that burned between them.
Yet, of Lana Helmer never a suspicious word had been breathed that everI had heard--for it seemed she could dare where others dared not; sayand do and be what another woman might not, as though her wit andbeauty licensed what had utterly damned another. Nor did her devotionand close companionship with Clarissa ever seem to raise a question asto her own personal behaviour. And well I remember a gay company beingat cards and wine one day in the summer house on the river hew sheanswered a disrespect of Sir John with a contemptuous rebuke which sentthe muddy blood into his face and left him ashamed--the only time Iever saw him so.
Ensign Chambers came a-mincing up, was presented to the ladies,languidly made preparations for taking Mrs. Lansing by storm; and thefirst deadly grace he pictured for her was his macaroni manner oftaking snuff--with which fascinating ceremony he had turned many asilly head in New York ere we marched out and the British marched in.
I talked for a while with Mrs. Bleecker of this and that, striving thewhile to catch Lana Helmer's eye. For not only did her coquetry withBoyd make me uneasy, knowing them both as I did, but on my own accountI desired to speak to her in private when opportunity afforded. Aloneand singly either of these people stood in no danger from the outerworld. Pitted against each other, what their recklessness might lead toI did not know. For since Boyd's attempted gallantries toward Lois--hebelieving her to be as youthful and depraved as seemed the case--a deepand growing distrust for this man which I had never before felt hadsteadily invaded my friendship for him. Also, he had already an affairwith a handsome wench at the Middle Fort, one Dolly Glenn, and the pooryoung thing was plainly mad about him.
I heard Mrs. Lansing propose a stroll to the river before dinner, onthe chance of meeting her husband's regiment returning, whichsuggestion seemed to suit all; and in the confusion of chatter andlaughter and the tying of a sun-mask by Mrs. Bleecker, aided by Boydand by the exquisite courtier, I cleverly contrived to supplant Boydwith Lana Helmer, and not only stuck to her side, but managed to securethe rear of the strolling column.
All this manoeuvre did not escape her, and as we fell a few pacesbehind, she looked up at me with a most deadly challenge in her violeteyes.
"Now," she said, "that you have driven off your rival, I am resigned tobe courted.... Heaven knows you wasted opportunities enough at GuyPark."
I laughed.
"How strange it is, Lana," I said, "to be here with you; I in rifledress and thrums, hatchet, and knife at my Mohawk girdle; you in chiphat and ribbons and dainty gown, lifting your French petticoat over themuddy ruts cut on the King's Highway by rebel artillery!"
"Who would have dreamed it three years ago?" she said, her face nowsober enough.
"I thought your people were Tory," said I.
"Not mine, Euan; Clarissa's."
"Where is that child?" I asked pityingly.
"Clarissa? Poor lamb--she's in Albany still."
I did not speak, but it was as though she divined my unasked question.
"Aye, she is in love with him yet. I never could understand how thatcould be after he married Polly Watts. But she has not changed.... Andthat beast, Sir John, installed her in the Albany house."
I said: "He's somewhere out yonder with the marauders against whom weare to march. They're all awaiting us, it is said; the wholecrew--Johnson's Greens, Butler's Rangers, McDonald's painted Tories,Brant's Mohawks--and the Senecas with their war-chiefs and theirsorcerer, Amochol--truly a motley devil's brood, Lana; and I pray onlythat one of Morgan's men may sight Walter Butler or Sir John over hisrifle's end."
"To think," she murmured, "that you and I have dined and wined withthese same gentlemen you now so ardently desire to slay.... And youngWalter Butler, too! I saw his mother and his sister in Albany a weekago--two sad and pitiable women, Euan, for every furtive glance castafter them seemed to shout aloud the infamy of their son and brother,the Murderer of Cherry Valley."
"To my mind," said I, "he is not sane at all, but gone stark blood-mad.Heaven! How impossible it seems that this young man with his handsomeface and figure, his dreamy melancholy, his
charming voice and manners,his skill in verse and music, can be this same Walter Butler whose nameis cursed wherever righteousness and honour exist in human breasts.Why, even Joseph Brant has spurned him, they say, since Cherry Valley!Even his own father stood aghast before such infamy. Old John Butler,when he heard the news, dashed his hands to his temples, groaning out:'I would have crawled from this place to Cherry Valley on my hands andknees to save those people; and why my son did not spare them, God onlyknows.'"
Lana shook her pretty head.
"I can not seem to believe it of him even yet. I try to think of Walteras a murderer of little children, and it is not possible. Why, it seemsbut yesterday that I stood plaguing him on the stone doorstep at GuyPark--calling him Walter Ninny and Walter Noodle to vex him. Youremember, Euan, that his full name is Walter N. Butler, and that henever would tell us what the N. stands for, but we guessed it stood forNellis, in honour of Nellis Fonda.... Lord! What a world o' trouble forus all in these three years!"
"I had supposed you married long ago, Lana. The young Patroon was veryardent."
"I? The sorry supposition! I marry--in the face of the sad andmiserable examples all my friends afford me! Not I, Euan, unless----"She smiled at me with pretty malice. "----you enter the lists. Do youthen enter?" I reddened and laughed, and she, always enchanted toplague and provoke me, began her art forthwith, first innocentlyslipping her arm through mine, as though to support her flagging steps,then, as if by accident, letting one light finger slip along my sleeveto touch my hand and linger lightly.
Years ago, when we were but seventeen, she had delighted to tease andembarrass me with her sweetly malicious coquetry, ever on the watch toobserve my features redden. I remember she sometimes offered toexchange kisses with me; but I was a ninny, and a serious and hopelessone at that, and would have none of her.
I believe we were thinking of the same thing now, and when I caught hereye the gay malice of it was not to be mistaken.
"Lanette," said I, "take care! I am a soldier since you had your saucyway with me. You know that the military are not to be dealt withlightly. And I am grown up in these three years."
"Grown soberer, perhaps. You always did conduct like a piousBroad-brim, Euan."
"I've a mind to kiss you now," said I, vexed.
"Kiss away, kind sir. You have me in the rear of them. Now's youropportunity!"
"Doubtless you'd cry out."
"Doubtless I wouldn't."
"Wait for some moonlit evening when we're unobserved----"
"Broad-brim!"
I laughed, and so did she, saying:
"I warrant you that your pretty Lieutenant Boyd had never waited for mychallenge twice!"
"Best look out for Boyd," said I. "He's of your own careless, recklesskind, Lanette. Sparks fly when flint and steel encounter."
"Cold sparks, friend Broad-brim!"
"Not too cold to set tinder afire."
"Am I then tinder? You should know me better."
"In every one of us," said I, "there is an element which, when it meetsits fellow in another, unites with it, turning instantly to fire andburning to the very soul."
"How wise have you become in alchemy and metaphysics!" she exclaimed inmock admiration.
"Oh, I am not wise in anything, and you know it, Lana."
"I don't know it. You've been wise enough to keep clear of me, if thatbe truly wisdom. Come, Euan, what do you think? Do you and I containthese fellow elements, that you seem to dread our mutual conflagrationif you kiss me?"
"You know me better."
"Do I? No, I don't. Young sir, caper not too confidently in your coatof many colours! If you flout me once too often I may go after you, asa Mohawk follows a scalp too often flaunted by the head that wears it!"
I tried to sustain her delighted gaze and reddened, and the impudentlittle beauty laughed and clung to my arm in a very ecstasy of malice,made breathless by her own mirth.
"Come, court me prettily, Euan. It is my due after all these grey andQuaker years when I made eyes at you from the age of twelve, and wononly a scowl or two for my condescension."
But we had reached the river bank, and there the group came once moretogether, the ladies curious to see the batteaux arriving, loaded withvalley sheep, we officers pointing out to them the canoes of our corpsof Oneida guides, and Hanierri and the Reverend Mr. Kirkland readingtheir Testaments under the shade of the trees, gravely absorbed in God.
"A good man," said I, "and brave. But his honest Stockbridge Indiansknow no more of Catharines-town than do the converted Oneidas yonder."
Boyd nodded: "I prophesy they quit us one and all within anarrow-flight of Wyalusing. Do you take me, Loskiel?"
"No, you are right," I said. "The fear of the Long House chains them,and their long servitude has worn like fetters to their very bones.Redcoats they can face, and have done so gallantly. But there is inthem a fear of the Five Nations past all understanding of a white man."
I spoke to a diminished audience, for already Boyd and Lana Helmer hadstrolled a little way together, clearly much interested in each other'sconversation. Presently our precious senior Consign sauntered the otherway with pretty Mistress Lansing on his arm. As for me, I was contentedto see them go--had been only waiting for it. And what I had thought Imight venture to say to Lana Helmer by warrant of old acquaintance, Iwas now glad that I had not said at all--the years having in no wisesubdued the mischief in her, nor her custom of plaguing me. And howmuch she had ever really meant I could not truly guess. No, it had beenanything but wise to speak to her of Lois. But now I meant to mentionLois to Mrs. Bleecker.
We had seated ourselves on the sun-crisped Indian grass, and for awhile I let her chatter of Guy Park and our pleasant acquaintancethere, and of Albany, too, where we had met sometimes at the TenBroecks, the Schuylers, and the Patroons. And all the while I wasdebating within my mind how this proud and handsome, newly-married girlmight receive my halting story. For it would not do to conceal anythingvital to the case. Her clear, wise eyes would see instantly through anyevasion, not to say deception--even a harmless deception. No; if shewere to be of any aid in this deeply-perplexing business, I must tellher the story of Lois--not betraying anything that the girl mightshrink from having others know, but stating her case and her conditionas briefly and as honestly as I might.
And no sooner did I come to this conclusion than I spoke; and after thefirst word or two Mrs. Bleecker put off her sun-mask and turned,looking me directly in the eyes.
I said that the young lady's name was Lois de Contrecoeur--and if itwere not that it was nothing, and human creatures require a name! Butthis I did not say to her, nor thought it necessary to mention anydoubt as to the girl's parentage, only to say she was the child ofcaptives taken by the Senecas after the Lake George rout.
I told of her dreary girlhood, saying merely that her foster parentswere now dead and that the child had conceived the senseless project ofpenetrating to Catharines-town, where she believed her mother, atleast, was still held captive.
The tall, handsome girl beside me listened without a word, her intentgaze never leaving me; and when I had done, and the last word in mybrief for Lois had been uttered, she bent her head in thought, and socontinued minute after minute while I sat there waiting.
At last she looked up at me again, suddenly, as though to surprise mysecret reflections; and if she did so I do not know, for she smiled andheld out her hand to me with so pretty a confidence that my lipstrembled as I pressed them to her fingers. And now something within herseemed to have been reassured, for her eyes and her lips became faintlyhumorous.
"And where is this most forlorn and errant damsel, Sir Euan?" sheinquired. "For if I doubt her when I see her, no more than I doubt youwhen I look at you, something should be done in her behalf withoutdelay.... The poor, unhappy child! And what a little fool! The Lordlooks after his lambs, surely, surely--drat the little hussy! It madsme to even think of her danger. Did a body ever hear the like of it!A-gypsying all alone--
loitering around this army's camp! Mercy! Andwhat a little minx it is to so conduct--what with our godless, cursingheadlong soldiery, and the loud, swaggering forest-runners! Lord! Butit chills me to the bone! The silly, saucy baggage!"
She shuddered there in the hot sunshine, then shot at me a look so keenand penetrating that I felt my ears go red. Which sudden distress on mypart again curved her lips into an indulgent smile.
"I always thought I knew you, Euan Loskiel," she said. "I think sostill.... As for your fairy damsel in distress--h'm--when may I seeher?"
In a low voice I confessed the late raggedness of Lois, and how she nowwore an Oneida dress until the boxes, which I had commanded, mightarrive from Albany. I had to tell her this, had to explain how I hadwon from Lois this privilege of giving, spite of her pride.
"If I could bring her to you," said I, "fittingly equipped and clothed,the pride in her would suffer less. Were you to go with me now in yourpretty silk and scarf, and patch and powder, and stand before her inthe wretched hut which shelters her--the taint of charity would poisoneverything. For she is like you, Mrs. Bleecker, lacking only what doesnot make, but merely and prettily confirms your quality andbreeding--clothing and shelter, and the means to live fittingly.... Forit is not condescension, not the lesser charity I ask, or she couldreceive; it is the countenance that birth lends to its equal in direadversity."
Curious and various were the emotions which passed in rapid successionover her pretty features; and not all seemed agreeable. Then suddenlyher eyes reflected a hidden laughter, and presently it came forth, amerry peal, and sweet withal.
"Oh, Euan, what a boy you are! Had I been any other woman--but let itgo. You are as translucent as a woodland brook, and--at times youbabble like one, confident that your music pleases everyone who hearsit.... I pray you let me judge whether the errant lady be what a poet'ssoul would have her.... I am not speaking with any unkind thought ordoubt.... But woman must judge woman. It is the one thing no man canever do for her. And the less he interferes during the judgment thebetter."
"Then I'll say no more," said I, forcing a smile.
"Oh, say all you please, as long as you do not tell me what you thinkabout her. Tell me facts, not what your romantic heart surmises. And ifshe were the queen of Sheba in disguise, or if she were a titled SaintJames drab, no honest woman but who would see through and through her,and, ere she rose from her low reverence, would know her truly forexactly what she is."
"Lord!" said I. "Is that the way you read us, also?"
"No. Women may read women. But never one who lived has read truly anyman, humble or high. Say that to the next pretty baggage who vows shereads you like a book! And in her secret heart she will know you saythe truth--and know it, raging even while her smile remains unaltered.For it is true, Euan; true concerning you men, also. Not one among youall has ever really read us right. The difference is this; we know wecan not read you, but scorn to admit it; you honestly believe that youcan read us, and often boast of doing it. Which sex is the greaterfool, judge you? I have my own opinion."
We both laughed; after a moment she put on her sun-mask and I tied it.
"Where do you and Mrs. Lansing lodge until your husband's regimentreturns?" I asked.
"They have given us the old Croghan house. What it lacks in elegance ofappointment it gains in hospitality. If we had a dish of tea to brewfor you gentlemen we would do it; but Indian willow makes a vile andbitter tea, and I had as lief go tealess, as I do and expect tocontinue until our husbands teach the Tory King his manners."
She rose, giving me her pretty hand to aid her, shook out her daintyskirts, put up her quizzing glass, and inspected me, smilingly.
"Bring her when you think it time," she said. "Somehow I alreadybelieve that she may be something of what your fancy paints her. Andthat would be a miracle."
"Truly she is a miracle," I said earnestly.
"Then remember not to say it to Angelina Lansing--and above all neverhint as much to Lana Helmer. Women are human; and pretty women perhapsa little less than human. Leave them to me. For if this romantic damselbe truly what you picture her, I'll have to tell a pretty fib or twoconcerning her and you, I warrant you. Leave that saucy baggage,Lanette, to me, Euan. And you keep clear of her, too. She's murderousto men's peace of mind--more fatal than ever since Clarissa played thefool."
"I was assassinated by Lana long ago," said I, smiling. "I am proof."
"Nevertheless, beware!" she whispered, as Boyd and Lana came saunteringup. And there seemed to me to be now about them both a carelessindifference, almost studied, and in noticeable contrast to theirbright animation when they had left us half an hour ago.
"Such a professional heart-breaker as your Mr. Boyd is," observed Lanacoolly to us both. "I never before encountered such assurance. What hemust be in queue and powder, silk and small-sword, I dare not surmise.A pitying heaven has protected me so far, and," she added, lookingdeliberately at Boyd, "I ought to be grateful, ought I not, sir?"
Boyd made her a too low and over-courtly bow.
"Always the gallant and victorious adversary salutes the vanquished asyou, fair lady, have saluted me--imputing to my insignificant prowessthe very skill and address which has overthrown me."
"Are you overthrown?"
"Prone in the dust, mademoiselle! Draw Mr. Loskiel's knife and end menow in mercy."
"Then I will strike.... Who is the handsome wench who passed us but amoment since, and who looked at you with her very heart trembling inher eyes?"
"How should I know?"
They stood looking smilingly at each other; and their smile did notseem quite genuine to me, but too clear, and a trifle hard, as thoughsomehow it was a sort of mask for some subtler defiance. I reflecteduneasily that no real understanding could be possible between these twoin such a brief acquaintance; and, reassured, turned to greet ourmacaroni Ensign and Mistress Angelina Lansing, now approaching us.
That our regimental fop had sufficient diverted her was patent, shebeing over-flushed and smiling, and at gay swords' points already withhim, while he whisked his nose with his laced hanker and scattered theperfume of his snuff to the four winds.
So, two and two, we walked along the road to Croghan's house, where wasa negro wench to aid them and a soldier-servant to serve them. And theodd bits of furniture that had been used at our General's headquartershad been taken there to eke out with rough make-shifts, fashioned byAlden's men, a very scanty establishment for these three ladies.
Lana Helmer, to my surprise, motioned me to walk beside her; and allthe way to Croghan's house she continued close to me, seeming topurposely avoid Boyd. And he the same, save that once or twice helooked at her, which was more than she did to him, I swear.
She was now very serious and sweet with me on our way to Croghan's, notjeering at me or at any of her teasing tricks, but conversingreasonably and prettily, and with that careless confidence which to aman is always pleasant and sometimes touching.
Of the old days we spoke much; the past was our theme--which is not anunusual topic for the young, although they live, generally, only in thefuture. And it was "Do you recall this?" and "Do you remember that?"and "Do you mind the day" when this and that occurred? Incidents weboth had nigh forgotten were recalled gravely or smilingly, but therewas no laughter--none, somehow, seemed to be left either in her heartor mine.
Twice I spoke of Clarissa, wishing, with kindliest intention, to hearmore of the unhappy child; but in neither instance did Lana appear tonotice what I had said, continuing silent until I, too, grew reticent,feeling vaguely that something had somehow snapped our mutual thread ofsympathy.
At the door of Croghan's house we gathered to make our adieux, thenfirst went mincing our Ensign about his precious business; and thenBoyd took himself off, as though with an effort; and Lana and AngelinaLansing went indoors.
"Bring her to me when I am alone," whispered Betty Bleecker, with avery friendly smile. "And let the others believe that you stand fornothing in this affair
."
And so I went away, thinking of many things--too many and tooperplexing, perhaps, for the intellect of a very young man deeply inlove--a man who knows he is in love, and yet remains incredulous thatit is indeed love which so utterly bewilders and afflicts him.