Оглавление
- Preface
- Chapter One. The Flowery Land
- Chapter Two. The Indigo Plantation
- Chapter Three. The Two Jakes
- Chapter Four. The Hommock
- Chapter Five. Yellow Jake
- Chapter Six. The Alligator
- Chapter Seven. The Turtle-Crawl
- Chapter Eight. The King Vultures
- Chapter Nine. The Bath
- Chapter Ten. The “Half-Blood.”
- Chapter Eleven. The Chase
- Chapter Twelve. A Severe Sentence
- Chapter Thirteen. The Chase
- Chapter Fourteen. Ringgold’s Revenge
- Chapter Fifteen. Maümee
- Chapter Sixteen. The Island
- Chapter Seventeen. West Point
- Chapter Eighteen. The Seminoles
- Chapter Nineteen. An Indian Hero
- Chapter Twenty.. Frontier Justice
- Chapter Twenty One. Indian Slaves
- Chapter Twenty Two. A Circuitous Transaction
- Chapter Twenty Three. Reflections by the Way
- Chapter Twenty Four. A Strange Apparition
- Chapter Twenty Five. Who Fired the Shot?
- Chapter Twenty Six.. A Frontier Fort
- Chapter Twenty Seven. The Council
- Chapter Twenty Eight. The Rising Sun
- Chapter Twenty Nine. The Ultimatum
- Chapter Thirty. Talk over the Table
- Chapter Thirty One. The Traitor Chiefs
- Chapter Thirty Two. Shadows in the Water
- Chapter Thirty Three. Haj-Ewa
- Chapter Thirty Four. A Pretty Plot
- Chapter Thirty Five. Light after Darkness
- Chapter Thirty Six. In Need of a Friend
- Chapter Thirty Seven. The Final Assembly
- Chapter Thirty Eight. Cashiering the Chiefs
- Chapter Thirty Nine. The Signature of Osceola
- Chapter Forty. “Fighting Gallagher.”
- Chapter Forty One. Provoking a Duel
- Chapter Forty Two. The Challenge
- Chapter Forty Three. The Assignation
- Chapter Forty Four. An Eclaircissement
- Chapter Forty Five. Two Duels in One Day
- Chapter Forty Six. A Silent Declaration
- Chapter Forty Seven. The Captive
- Chapter Forty Eight. The War-Cry
- Chapter Forty Nine. War to the Knife
- Chapter Fifty. Tracing a Strange Horseman
- Chapter Fifty One. Who was the Rider?
- Chapter Fifty Two. Cold Courtesy
- Chapter Fifty Three. My Sister’s Spirit
- Chapter Fifty Four. Asking an Explanation
- Chapter Fifty Five. The Volunteers
- Chapter Fifty Six. Mysterious Changes
- Chapter Fifty Seven. My Informant
- Chapter Fifty Eight. Old Hickman
- Chapter Fifty Nine. A Hasty Messenger
- Chapter Sixty. A Lover’s Gift
- Chapter Sixty One. The Route
- Chapter Sixty Two. A Knock on the Head
- Chapter Sixty Three. An Indian Executioner
- Chapter Sixty Four. A Banquet with a Bad Ending
- Chapter Sixty Five. “Dade’s Massacre.”
- Chapter Sixty Six. The Battle-Ground
- Chapter Sixty Seven. The Battle of “Ouithlacoochee.”
- Chapter Sixty Eight. A Victory Ending in a Retreat
- Chapter Sixty Nine. Another “Swamp-Fight.”
- Chapter Seventy. The Talk
- Chapter Seventy One. Mysterious Disappearance of an Army
- Chapter Seventy Two. The Condition of Black Jake
- Chapter Seventy Three. A Bad Spectacle
- Chapter Seventy Four. To the Trail
- Chapter Seventy Five. The Alarm
- Chapter Seventy Six. A False Alarm
- Chapter Seventy Seven. “A Split Trail.”
- Chapter Seventy Eight. Crossing the Savanna
- Chapter Seventy Nine. Groping among the Timber
- Chapter Eighty. Signal Shots
- Chapter Eighty One. An Empty Camp
- Chapter Eighty Two. A Dead Forest
- Chapter Eighty Three. A Circular Conflict
- Chapter Eighty Four. A Dead Shot by Jake
- Chapter Eighty Five. A Meagre Meal
- Chapter Eighty Six. A Bullet from Behind
- Chapter Eighty Seven. A Jury Amid the Fire
- Chapter Eighty Eight. Quick Executioners
- Chapter Eighty Nine. An Enemy Unlooked For
- Chapter Ninety. A Conflict in Darkness
- Chapter Ninety One. The Black Plumes
- Chapter Ninety Two. Buried Alive
- Chapter Ninety Three. Devils or Angels
- Chapter Ninety Four. The End of Arens Ringgold
- Chapter Ninety Five. The Death Warning
- Chapter Ninety Six. Osceola’s Fate – Conclusion
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- Chapter Sixty. A Lover’s GiftChapter Sixty. A Lover’s Gift
Chapter Sixty. A Lover’s Gift
As I have said, it was my design to make an entrance unobserved; consequently, it was necessary to observe caution in approaching the house. To this end, as I drew near the plantation, I turned off the main road into a path that led circuitously by the rear. This path would conduct me by the hommock, the bathing-pond, and the orange-groves, without much danger of my approach being noticed by any one. The slaves at work within the enclosures could see me as I rode through the grounds; but these were the “field-hands.” Unless seen by some of the domestics, engaged in household affairs, I had no fear of being announced.
My messenger had not gone directly back; I had ordered him to await me in an appointed place, and there I found him.
Directing him to follow me, I kept on; and having passed through the fields, we rode into the thick underwood of the hommock, where halting, we dismounted from our horses. From this point I proceeded alone.
As the hunter steals upon the unexpecting game, or the savage upon his sleeping foe, did I approach the house – my home, my father’s home, the home of mother and sister. Strange conduct in a son and a brother – a singular situation.
My limbs trembled under me as I advanced, my knees knocked together, my breast was agitated by a tumult of wild emotions. Once I hesitated and halted. The prospect of the unpleasant scene I was about to produce stayed me. My resolution was growing weak and undecided.
Perhaps I might have gone back – perhaps I might have waited another opportunity, when I might effect my purpose by a less violent development – but just then voices fell upon my ear, the effect of which was to strengthen my wavering resolves. My sister’s voice was ringing in laughter, that sounded light and gay. There was another – only one. I easily recognised the squeaking treble of her despicable suitor. The voices remaddened me – the tones stung me, as if they had been designedly uttered in mockery of myself. How could she behave thus? how riot in joy, while I was drooping under dark suspicions of her misbehaviour?
Piqued as well as pained, I surrendered all thought of honourable action; I resolved to carry through my design, but first – to play the listener.
I drew nearer, and heard clearer. The speakers were not in the house, but outside, by the edge of the orange grove. Softly treading, gently parting the boughs, now crouching beneath them, now gliding erect, I arrived unobserved within six paces of where they stood – near enough to perceive their dresses glistening through the leaves – to hear every word that passed between them.
Not many had been spoken, before I perceived that I had arrived at a peculiar moment – a crisis. The lover had just offered himself for a husband – had, perhaps for the first time, seriously made his declaration. In all probability it was this had been eliciting my sister’s laughter.
“And really, Mr Ringgold, you wish to make me your wife? You are in earnest in what you have said?”
“Nay, Miss Randolph, do not mock me; you know for how many years I have been devoted to you.”
“Indeed, I do not. How could I know that?”
“By my words. Have I not told you so a hundred times?”
“Words! I hold words of little value in a matter of this kind. Dozens have talked to me as you, who, I suppose, cared very little about me. The tongue is a great trifler, Mr Arens.”
“But my actions prove my sincerity. I have offered you my hand and my fortune; is not that a sufficient proof of devotion?”
“No, silly fellow; nothing of the sort. Were I to become your wife, the fortune would still remain your own. Besides, I have some little fortune myself, and that would come under your control. So you see the advantage would be decidedly in your favour. Ha, ha, ha!”
“Nay, Miss Randolph; I should not think of controlling yours; and if you will accept my hand – ”
“Your hand, sir? If you would win a woman, you should offer your heart– hearts, not hands, for me.”
“You know that is yours already; and has been for long years: all the world knows it.”
“You must have told the world, then; and I don’t like it a bit.”
“Really, you are too harsh with me: you have had many proofs of how long and devotedly I have admired you. I would have declared myself long since, and asked you to become my wife – ”
“And why did you not?”
Ringgold hesitated.
“The truth is, I was not my own master – I was under the control of my father.”
“Indeed?”
“That exists no longer. I can now act as I please; and, dearest Miss Randolph, if you will but accept my hand – ”
“Your hand again! Let me tell you, sir, that this hand of yours has not the reputation of being the most open one. Should I accept it, it might prove sparing of pin-money. Ha, ha, ha!”
“I am aspersed by enemies. I swear to you, that in that sense you should have no cause to complain of my liberality.”
“I am not so sure of that, notwithstanding the oath you would take. Promises made before marriage are too often broken after. I would not trust you, my man – not I, i’ faith.”
“But you can trust me, I assure you.”
“You cannot assure me; besides, I have had no proofs of your liberality in the past. Why, Mr Ringgold, you never made me a present in your life. Ha, ha, ha!”
“Had I known you would have accepted one – it would gratify me – Miss Randolph, I would give you anything I possess.”
“Good! Now, I shall put you to the test: you shall make me a gift.”
“Name it – it shall be yours.”
“Oh, you fancy I am going to ask you for some trifling affair – a horse, a poodle, or some bit of glittering bijouterie. Nothing of the sort, I assure you.”
“I care not what. I have offered you my whole fortune, and therefore will not hesitate to give you a part of it. Only specify what you may desire, and I shall freely give it.”
“That sounds liberal indeed. Very well, then, you have something I desire to possess – and very much desire it – in truth, I have taken a fancy to be its owner, and had some designs of making offers to you for the purchase of it.”
“What can you mean, Miss Randolph?”
“A plantation.”
“A plantation!”
“Exactly so. Not your own, but one of which you are the proprietor.”
“Ah!”
“I mean that which formerly belonged to a family of half-bloods upon Tupelo Creek. Your father purchased it from them, I believe!”
I noted the emphasis upon the word “purchased.” I noted hesitation and some confusion in the reply.
“Yes – yes,” said he; “it was so. But you astonish me, Miss Randolph. Why care you for this, when you shall be mistress of all I possess?”
“That is my affair. I do care for it. I may have many reasons. That piece of ground is a favourite spot with me; it is a lovely place – I often go there. Remember, my brother is owner here – he is not likely to remain a bachelor all his life – and my mother may desire to have a home of her own. But no; I shall give you no reasons; make the gift or not, as you please.”
“And if I do, you will – ”
“Name conditions, and I will not accept it – not if you ask me on your knees. Ha, ha, ha!”
“I shall make none, then: if you will accept it, it is yours.”
“Ah, that is not all, Master Arens. You might take it back just as easily as you have given it. How am I to be sure that you would not? I must have the deeds.”
“You shall have them.”
“And when?”
“Whenever you please – within the hour, if you desire it.”
“I do, then. Go, get them! But remember, sir, I make no conditions – remember that?”
“Oh,” exclaimed the overjoyed lover, “I make none. I have no fears: I leave all to you. In an hour, you shall have them. Adieu!”
And so saying, he made a hurried departure.
I was so astonished by the nature of this dialogue – so taken by surprise at its odd ending – that for a time I could not stir from the spot. Not until Ringgold had proceeded to some distance did I recover self-possession; and then I hesitated what course to pursue – whether to follow him, or permit him to depart unmolested.
Virginia had gone away from the ground, having glided silently back into the house. I was even angrier with her than with him; and, obedient to this impulse, I left Ringgold to go free, and went straight for an explanation with my sister.
It proved a somewhat stormy scene. I found her in the drawing-room in company with my mother. I stayed for no circumlocution; I listened to no denial or appeal, but openly announced to both the character of the man who had just left the house – openly declared him my intended murderer.
“Now, Virginia! sister! will you marry this man?” “Never, George – never! I never intended it – Never!” she repeated emphatically, as she sank upon the sofa, burying her face in her hands.
My mother was incredulous – even yet incredulous!
I was proceeding to the proofs of the astounding declaration I had made, when I heard my name loudly pronounced outside the window: some one was calling me in haste.
I ran out upon the verandah to inquire what was wanted.
In front was a man on horseback, in blue uniform, with yellow facings – a dragoon. He was an orderly, a messenger from the fort. He was covered with dust, his horse was in a lather of sweat and foam. The condition of both horse and man showed that they had been going for hours at top-speed.
The man handed me a piece of paper – a dispatch hastily scrawled. It was addressed to Gallagher and myself. I opened and read:
“Bring on your men to Fort King as fast as their horses can carry them. The enemy is around us in numbers; every rifle is wanted – lose not a moment. Clinch.”