Chapter Forty Three. The Assignation
Our opponents passed silently away – the spectators along with them – leaving my second and myself upon the ground.
It was my intention to stay by the pond. I remembered the invitation of Haj-Ewa. By remaining, I should avoid the double journey. Better to await her coming.
A glance to the western horizon shewed me that the sun had already sunk below the tree-tops. The twilight would be short. The young moon was already in the heavens. It might be only a few minutes before Haj-Ewa should come. I resolved to stay.
I desired not that Gallagher should be with me; and I expressed the wish to be left alone.
My companion was a little surprised and puzzled at the request; but he was too well bred not to yield instant compliance.
“Why, Geordie, boy!” said he, about to retire, “shurely there’s something the matther wid ye? It isn’t this thrifling spurt we’ve been engaged in? Didn’t it ind intirely to your satisfaction? Arrah, man! are ye sorry you didn’t kill him dead? Be my trath, you look as milancholic and down-hearted as if he had killed you!”
“Dear friend, leave me alone. On my return to quarters, you shall know the cause of my melancholy, and why I now desire to part from your pleasant company.”
“Oh, that part I can guess,” rejoined he with a significant laugh; “always a petticoat where there’s shots exchanged. Niver mind, my boy, no saycrets for Charley Gallagher; I’m bad at keepin’ them. Ov coorse, you’re going to meet betther company than mine; but laste you might fall in with worse – an’ by my sowl! from what ye’ve towld me, that same isn’t beyond the bounds of probability – take this little cheeper. I’m a great dog-braker, you know.” Here the speaker handed me a silver call, which he had plucked from his button. “If any thing inconvenient or disagraable should turn up, put that between your lips, an’ Charley Gallagher will be at your side in the mention of Jack Robison’s name. Cupid spade ye with your lady-love. I’ll go an’ kill time over a tumbler ov nagus till ye come.”
So saying, my warm-hearted friend left me to myself.
I ceased to think of him ere he was gone out of sight – even the bloody strife, in which I had been so recently engaged, glided out of my mind. Maümee – her falsehood and her fall – alone occupied my thoughts.
For a long while, I made no doubt of what I had heard. How could I, with proofs so circumstantial? – the testimony of those cognisant of the scandal – of the chief actor in it, whose silent smile spoke stronger than words. That smile of insolent triumph – why had I permitted it to pass without challenge, without rebuke? It was not too late – I should call upon him to speak plainly and point blank – yes or no. If yes, then for a second duel more deadly than the first.
Notwithstanding these resolves to make my rival declare himself, I doubted not the damning truth; I endeavoured to resign myself to its torture.
For a long while was my soul upon the rack – more than an hour. Then, as my blood grew more cool, reflections of a calmer nature entered my mind; and at intervals, I experienced the soothing influence of hope; this especially when I recalled the words of Haj-Ewa, spoken on the preceding night. Surely the maniac had not been mocking me? Surely it was not a dream of her delirious brain? a distorted mirage of memory – the memory of some far-away, long-forgotten scene, by her only remembered? No, no; her tale was not distorted – her thoughts were not delirious – her words were not mockeries!
How sweet it was to think so!
Yes – I began to experience intervals of placid thought: more than placid – pleasant.
Alas! they were evanescent. The memory of those bold meretricious phrases, those smiling innuendoes, dissipated or darkened them, as cumuli darken the sun. “He had succeeded.” She was now his favourite. “Most certainly” – words worse than death. Withal it was a foul testimony on which to build a faith.
I longed for light, that true light – the evidence of the senses – that leaves nought uncertain. I should seek it with rash directness, reckless of the result, till it illumined her whole history, proving the past a disgrace, the future a chaos of utter despair. I longed for light; I longed for the coming of Haj-Ewa.
I knew not what the maniac wanted – something, I supposed, concerning the captive. Since noon, I had little thought of him. The mad queen went everywhere, knew every one; she must know all, understand all – ay, well understand; she, too, had been betrayed.
I repaired to our place of meeting on the preceding night; there I might expect her. I crossed the little ridge among the stems of the palmettoes; it was the direct route to the shadowy side of the tank. I descended the slope, and stood as before under the spreading arms of the live-oak.
Haj-Ewa was before me. A single moonbeam slanting athwart the leaves, shone upon her majestic figure. Under its light the two serpents glittered with a metallic lustre, as though her neck and waist were encircled with precious gems.
“Hinklas! pretty mico! you are come. Gallant mico! where was thine eye and thine arm that thou didst not kill the Iste-hulwa?” (Literally bad man – villain.)
“Ha, ha, ha! was it not so, brave mico?”
“It was not fear that hindered me, Ewa. Besides, the wolf did not go unscathed.”
“Ho! the wolf has a wounded leg – he will lick himself well again; he will soon be strong as ever. Hulwak! you should have killed him, fair mico, ere he bring the pack upon you.”
“I could not help my ill luck. I am unfortunate every way.”
“Cooree, cooree– no. You shall be happy, young mico; you shall be happy, friend of the red Seminole. Wait till you see – ”
“See what?”
“Patience, chepawnee! To-night under this very tree, you will see what is fair – you will hear what is sweet – and perchance Haj-Ewa will be revenged.”
This last phrase was spoken with an earnest emphasis, and in a tone that shewed a strong feeling of resentment against some one unknown. I could not comprehend the nature of the expected vengeance.
“His son – yes,” continued the maniac, now in soliloquy, “it must be – it must: his eyes, his hair, his form, his gait, his name; his son and hers. Oh, Haj-Ewa will have revenge.”
Was I myself the object of this menace? Such a thought entered my mind.
“Good Ewa! of whom are you speaking?”
Roused by my voice, she looked upon me with a bewildered stare, and then broke out into her habitual chant:
Suddenly stopping, she seemed once more to remember herself, and essayed a reply to my question.
“Whom, young mico? Of him the fair one – the wicked one – the Wykomé hulwa (the spirit of evil). See! he comes, he comes! Behold him in the water. Ho, ho! it is he. Up, young mico! up into thy leafy bower; stay till Ewa comes! Hear what you may hear – see what you may see; but, for your life, stir not till I give you the signal. Up, up, up!”
Just as on the preceding night, half lifting me into the live-oak, the maniac glided away amidst the shadows.
I lost no time in getting into my former position, where I sat silent and expecting.
The shadow had grown shorter, but there was still enough to shew me that it was the form of a man. In another moment, it vanished.
Scarcely an instant had elapsed, ere a second was flung upon the water, advancing over the ridge, and as if following the track of the former one, though the two persons did not appear to be in company.
That which followed I could trace in full outline. It was the figure of a woman, one whose upright bearing and free port proved her to be young.
Even the shadow exhibited a certain symmetry of form and gracefulness of motion, incompatible with age. Was it still Haj-Ewa? Had she gone round through the thicket, and was now following the footsteps of the man?
For a moment I fancied so; but I soon perceived that my fancy was astray.
The man advanced under the tree. The same moonbeam, that but a moment before had shone upon Haj-Ewa, now fell upon him, and I saw him with sufficient distinctness; he was the aide-de-camp.
He stopped, took out his watch, held it up to the light, and appeared to be inquiring the hour.
But I heeded him no further. Another face appeared under that silvery ray – false and shining as itself: it was the face that to me seemed the loveliest in the world – the face of Maümee.