"Now for the love, the sweet young love, Under--

"It was once mine--it is now yours, mico! yours, _haintc.l.i.tz_! Pretty creatures! enjoy it alone; you wish not the mad queen for a companion?

Ha, ha! _Cooree, cooree_! I go; fear not the rustling wind, fear not the whispering trees; none can approach while Haj-Ewa watches. She will be your guardian. _Chitta mico_, too. Ho, _chitta mico_!

"Now for the love, the sweet young love."

And again renewing her chant, the strange woman glided from the spot, leaving me alone with Maumee.

The moment was not without embarra.s.sment to me--perhaps to both of us.

No profession had ever pa.s.sed between us, no a.s.surance, not a word of love. Although I loved Maumee with all my heart's strength, although I now felt certain that she loved me, there had been no mutual declaration of our pa.s.sion. The situation was a peculiar one, and the tongue felt restraint.

But words would have been superfluous in that hour. There was an electricity pa.s.sing between us--our souls were _en rapport_, our hearts in happy communion, and each understood the thoughts of the other. Not all the words in the world could have given me surer satisfaction that the heart of Maumee was mine.

It was scarcely possible that _she_ could misconceive. With but slight variation, my thoughts were hers. In all likelihood, Haj-Ewa had carried to her ears my earnest declaration. Her look was joyful-- a.s.sured. She did not doubt me.

I extended my arms, opening them widely. Nature prompted me, or perhaps pa.s.sion--all the same. The silent signal was instantly understood, and the moment after, the head of my beloved was nestling upon my bosom.

Not a word was spoken. A low fond cry alone escaped her lips as she fell upon my breast, and twined her arms in rapturous compression around me.

For some moments we exchanged not speech; our hearts alone held converse.

Soon the embarra.s.sment vanished, as a light cloud before the summer sun: not a trace of shyness remained; and we conversed in the confidence of mutual love.

I am spared the writing of our love-speeches. You have yourself heard or uttered them. If too common-place to be repeated, so also are they too sacred. I forbear to detail them.

We had other thoughts to occupy us. After a while, the transport of our mutual joys, though still sweet, a.s.sumed a more sober tinge; and, half-forgetting the present, we talked of the past and the future.

I questioned Maumee much. Without guile, she gave me the history of that long interval of absence. She confessed, or rather declared--for there was no coquettish hesitation in her manner--that she had loved me from the first--even from that hour when I first saw and loved her: through the long silent years, by night as by day, had the one thought held possession of her bosom. In her simplicity, she wondered I had not known of it!

I reminded her that her love had never been declared. It was true, she said; but she had never dreamt of concealing it. She thought I might have perceived it. Her instincts were keener: she had been _conscious of mine_!

So declared she, with a freedom that put me off my guard.

If not stronger, her pa.s.sion was n.o.bler than my own.

She had never doubted me during the years of separation. Only of late; but the cause of this doubt was explained: the pseudo-lover had poured poison into her ears. Hence the errand of Haj-Ewa.

Alas! my story was not so guileless. Only part of the truth could I reveal; and my conscience smote me as I pa.s.sed over many an episode that would have given pain.

But the past was past, and could not be re-enacted. A more righteous future was opening before me; and silently in my heart did I register vows of atonement. Never more should I have cause to reproach myself-- never would my love--never could it wander away from the beautiful being I held in my embrace.

Proudly my bosom swelled as I listened to the ingenuous confession of her love, but sadly when other themes became the subject of our converse. The story of family trials, of wrongs endured, of insults put upon them--and more especially by their white neighbours, the Ringgolds--caused my blood to boil afresh.

The tale corresponded generally with what I had already learned; but there were other circ.u.mstances unknown to public rumour. He, too--the wretched hypocrite--had _made love to her_. He had of late desisted from his importunities, through fear of her brother, and dared no longer come near.

The other, Scott, had made his approaches under the guise of friendship.

He had learned, what was known to many, the position of affairs with regard to the Indian widow's plantation. From his relationship in high quarters, he possessed influence, and had promised to exert it in obtaining rest.i.tution. It was a mere pretence--a promise made without any intention of being kept; but, backed by fair words, it had deceived the generous, trusting heart of Osceola. Hence the admission of this heartless cur into the confidence of a family intimacy.

For months had the correspondence existed, though the opportunities were but occasional. During all this time had the _soi-disant_ seducer been pressing his suit--though not very boldly, since he too dreaded the frown of that terrible brother--neither successfully: he had _not_ succeeded.

Ringgold well knew this when he affirmed the contrary. His declaration had but one design--to sting _me_. For such purpose, it could not have been made in better time.

There was one thing I longed to know. Surely Maumee, with her keen quick perception, from the girlish confidence that had existed between them--surely she could inform me. I longed to know the relations that had existed between my sister and her brother.

Much as I desired the information, I refrained from asking it.

And yet we talked of both--of Virginia especially, for Maumee remembered my sister with affection, and made many inquiries in relation to her.

Virginia was more beautiful than ever, she had heard, and accomplished beyond all others. She wondered if my sister would remember those walks and girlish amus.e.m.e.nts--those happy hours upon the island.

"Perhaps," thought I, "_too well_."

It was a theme that gave me pain.

The future claimed our attention; the past was now bright as heaven, but there were clouds in the sky of the future.

We talked of that nearest and darkest--the imprisonment of Osceola. How long would it last? What could be done to render it as brief as possible?

I promised to do everything in my power; and I purposed as I promised.

It was my firm resolve to leave no stone unturned to effect the liberation of the captive chief. If right should not prevail, I was determined to try stratagem. Even with the sacrifice of my commission-- even though personal disgrace should await me--the risk of life itself-- I resolved he should be free.

I needed not to add to my declaration the emphasis of an oath; I was believed without that. A flood of grat.i.tude was beaming from those liquid orbs; and the silent pressure of love-burning lips was sweeter thanks than words could have uttered.

It was time for parting; the moon told the hour of midnight.

On the crest of the hill, like a bronze statue outlined against the pale sky, stood the mad queen. A signal brought her to our side; and after another embrace, one more fervid pressure of sweet lips, Maumee and I parted.

Her strange but faithful guardian led her away by some secret path, and I was left alone.

I could scarcely take myself away from that consecrated ground; and I remained for some minutes longer, giving full play to triumphant and rapturous reflections.

The declining moon again warned me; and, crossing the crest of the hill, I hastened back to the Fort.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

THE CAPTIVE.

Late as was the hour, I determined to visit the captive before going to rest. My design would not admit of delay; besides, I had a suspicion that, before another day pa.s.sed, my own liberty might be curtailed. Two duels in one day--two antagonists wounded, and both friends to the commander-in-chief--myself comparatively friendless--it was hardly probable I should escape "scot free." Arrest I expected as certain-- perhaps a trial by court-martial, with a fair chance of being cashiered the service.

Despite my lukewarmness in the cause in which we had become engaged, I could not contemplate this result without uneasiness. Little did I care for my commission: I could live without it; but whether right or wrong, few men are indifferent to the censure of their fellows, and no man likes to bear the brand of official disgrace. Reckless as one may be of self, kindred and family have a concern in the matter not to be lightly ignored.

Gallagher's views were different.

"Let them arrist and cashear, an' be hanged! What need you care? Divil a bit, my boy. Sowl, man, if I were in your boots, with a fine plantation and a whole regiment of black nagers, I'd snap my fingers at the sarvice, and go to raisin' shugar and tobaccay. Be Saint Pathrick!

that's what I'd do."

My friend's consolatory speech failed to cheer me; and, in no very joyous mood, I walked towards the quarters of the captive, to add still further to my chances of "cashierment."