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Wild Huntress

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<h3>Chapter Eighty Eight.</h3> <h4>A fresh Éclaircissement.</h4> As we rode in counter-directions, I met the chief almost on the instant. I was slightly surprised that he passed, without taking notice of me! He could not fail to guess whither I was going: as I was heading straight for the huntress; and here was no other object to have drawn me in that direction. He did not even appear to see me! As he passed at a rapid pace, his eyes were bent forward upon the butte, or occasionally turned towards the horseman who galloped by his side. The strange horseman was an Indian. From the absence of the war-costume, I could tell he had not been engaged in the late conflict, but had just arrived from some distant journey—no doubt, a messenger who brought news. His jaded horse and dusky garb justified this conjecture. Equally desirous of shunning an encounter, I passed the two riders in silence, and kept on my course. As I drew near to the huntress-maiden, I was speculating on the reception I might expect, and the explanation I ought to give. How would she receive me? Not with much grace, I feared; at all events, not till she should hear what I had to say. The ambiguous and ill-timed appearance of the Chicasaw, combined with the sinister and dramatic incident which followed, must have produced on her mind eccentric and erroneous impressions. The effect would naturally be to falsify, not only the protestations of her lover, but my own testimony borne in his behalf, and indeed all else she had been told. It was not difficult to predict an ungracious reception. As I approached, she gave over caressing the dog; and once more leaped to the back of her horse. I was in fear that she would ride off, and shun me. I knew I could easily overtake her; but a chase of this nature would scarcely have been to my liking. “Marian Holt!” I said, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, “your suspicions are unjust; I have come to offer you an explanation—” “I need none,” interrupted she in a quiet voice, but without raising her eyes. A gentle wave of her hand accompanied the words. I fancied both the tone and the gesture were repellant; but soon perceived that I was mistaken. “I need none,” she repeated, “all has been explained.” “Explained! How?” I inquired, taken by surprise at the unexpected declaration. “Wa-ka-ra has told me all.” “What!—of Su-wa-nee?” A gesture of assent was the answer. “I am glad of this. But Wa-ka-ra! how knew he the circumstance?” “Partly from the Mexican to whom your people have communicated them—partly from the captive Arapahoes. Enough—I am satisfied.” “And you forgive Wingrove?” “Forgiveness now lies upon his side. I have not only wronged him by my suspicions, but I have reviled him. I deserve his contempt, I can scarcely hope to be forgiven.” Light had broken upon me—bright light it was for Wingrove! The suspicious duetto with the Utah chief was explained. Its innocence was made further manifest, by what came under my eyes at the moment. On the arm that was raised in gesture, I observed a strip of cotton wound round it above the wrist. A spot of blood appeared through the rag! “Ha! you are wounded?” said I, noticing the bandage. “It is nothing—merely a scratch made by the point of the knife. Wa-ka-ra has bound it up. It still bleeds a little, but it is nothing.” It was the rôle of the surgeon, then, the chief had been playing when seen in that ambiguous attitude! More light for Wingrove! “What a fiend!” I said, my reflection directed towards Su-wa-nee. “She deserved death!” “Ah—the unfortunate woman! hers has been a terrible fate; and whether she deserved it or not, I cannot help feeling pity for her. I would to God it had been otherwise; but this faithful companion saw the attempt upon my life; and when any one attacks me, nothing can restrain him. It is not the first time he has protected me from an enemy. Ah me! mine has been a life of sad incidents—at least the last six months of it.” I essayed to rescue her from these gloomy reflections. I foresaw the termination of her troubles. Their end was near. Words of cheer were easily spoken. I could promise her the forgiveness of her lover: since I knew how freely and promptly that would be obtained. “Ah, Marian,” I said, “a bright future is before you. Would that I could say as much for myself—for your sister Lilian!” “Ha!” exclaimed she, suddenly excited to an extreme point of interest, “tell me of my sister! You promised to do so? Surely she is not in danger?” I proceeded to reveal everything—my own history—my first interview with Lilian—my love for her, and the reasons I had for believing it to be returned—the departure from Tennessee with the Mormon—our pursuit of the train, and capture by the Indians—in short, everything that had occurred, up to the hour of my meeting with herself. I added my suspicions as to the sad destiny for which her sister was designed—which my own fears hindered me from concealing. After giving way to those natural emotions, which such a revelation was calculated to excite, the huntress-maiden suddenly resumed that firmness peculiar to her character; and at once entered with me into the consideration of some plan by which Lilian might be saved from a fate—which her own experience told her could be no other than infamous. “Yes!” cried she, giving way to a burst of anguish, “too well know I the design of that perjured villain. O father! lost—dishonoured! O sister! bartered—betrayed! Alas! poor Lilian!” “Nay—do not despair!—there is hope yet. But we must not lose time. We must at once depart hence, and continue the pursuit.” “True—and I shall go with you. You promised to take me to my home! Take me now where you will—anywhere that I may assist in saving my sister. Merciful heaven! She, too, in the power of that monster of wickedness!” Wingrove, wildly happy—at once forgiving and forgiven—was now called to our council. The faithful Sure-shot was also admitted to the knowledge of everything. We might stand in need of his efficient arm. We found an opportunity of conferring apart from the Indians—for the scalp-dance now engrossed their whole attention. Withdrawing some distance from the noisy ceremony, we proceeded to discuss the possibility of rescuing Lilian Holt from the grasp of that knave into whose power the innocent girl had so unprotectedly fallen. <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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