CHAPTER VI.THE EMBASSY AND THE MIRACLE.
It was a beautiful night, several weeks after the interview with Rene, in the wood. The moon was full, the air singularly pleasant and soft, and the whole scene so full of tranquil beauty, in spite of its wildness, that it seemed impossible it should not bring repose to the most troubled heart. On the morrow Gi-en-gwa-tah was to lead Queen Mahaska to her new mansion, and the whole village had retired early to rest in anticipation of the coming festivities, given in honor of the completion of the royal structure.
During the day, old Meme had stolen up to the rise of ground close by the lake where the stone dwelling stood, to see if Mahaska’s words had been fulfilled. She went through the different rooms, but there was nothing to be seen except the gifts which the Indian chief, her son, had brought there. The old woman was greatly disappointed, but said nothing, and for the rest of the day the dwelling was left deserted and silent.
Mahaska had signified to her that, on that night, she must be left alone; she was going out upon the lake to receive the last instructions of the spirits who made her wise with their counsels.
This information crept among the tribe, and every one avoided approaching her lodge after nightfall. Hence she was left to the undisturbed freedom which she desired.
Mahaska sat quietly in her lodge till the hands of a little watch she always carried pointed to midnight; then she rose, wrapped her mantle about her, and passed into the open air. She walked rapidly down to the shore of the lake, where her canoe was moored—a light, graceful bark, which Gi-en-gwa-tah had constructed for her with unusual elegance and care. Seating herself in the canoe, she paddled noiselessly up the lake.
About half a mile beyond her new palace there was a high bluff, projecting over the waters and crowned with lofty trees.That was the point of her destination. As she neared this spot she ceased paddling, and sent a low whistle, like the cry of a bird, across the water. It was answered by a similar sound; then she rowed rapidly toward the cliff.
As the boat approached the shore, she saw canoes drawn up under the shadow of the ledge, and a little knot of men stood awaiting her arrival.
With one vigorous sweep she sent her canoe on the beach, rose slowly, gathered her mantle about her, and stepped on shore.
Two of the men came forward to meet her; in the third her quick glance recognized the half-breed. The pair who awaited her were both young men still, but in spite of the hunting-shirts and leggins, there was an air of high-breeding and command about them which betrayed their rank.
They greeted Mahaska with a courteous salutation, and she could see the surprise they felt at her appearance as she appeared so suddenly before them in the soft moonlight, in the full power of her grace and loveliness. They were astounded by her beauty, and soon were enchanted with her graces.
“I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Colonel St. Clair and Captain Stuart,” she said, in her most winning voice, speaking in English, and with an ease which only perfect familiarity with the language could have given.
Each bowed in turn as his name was mentioned, and she added, lightly, though not abating an inch of her state:
“I am grieved that I should have been forced to receive you so unceremoniously, gentlemen; one day I shall hope to greet you with the distinction such guests deserve. At present we meet almost as conspirators.”
“We are only too much honored, lady, by your consenting to meet us at all,” said Colonel St. Clair.
She looked keenly at him; the tone was honest and sincere.
“Your General, then, received my answer to his letter without delay?” she said.
“He did, madam, and dispatched us on the instant to arrange with you concerning a variety of matters which must be considered should your plans succeed. He regrettedexceedingly that he could not make this visit in person, and thus secure himself the pleasure of an interview with one of whom report speaks such marvels, and yet falls so far short of the reality.”
“I should have been most happy to receive his visit” Mahaska replied; “it will be a pleasure in anticipation. I owe him many thanks for making his absence less felt by the choice he made of his embassadors.”
There was a little further exchange of compliments, and then they entered upon the business which brought them there. The two officers were refined, nobly-born men, accustomed to association with those of high birth, but never, even among royalty, had they met more polished grace and courtesy than this women exhibited, standing alone in the wilderness. Then the vigor and keenness of her intellect was felt in the propositions she laid down, and her woman’s vanity taught her when and how to wander from the theme, and give an opportunity to display glimpses of her wonderful information, and of the sparkling wit of which she was capable. They remained conversing for a long time; at last it was necessary that the conference should be broken up.
“Our General has ventured to send with us a few offerings as a token of his friendship and esteem,” said St. Clair, “which he begged me to present to you.”
Mahaska’s keen eyes had taken note of the three heavily loaded boats, and understood that the artful suggestions in her letter had been acted upon.
“Whatever they may be,” she said, “they will prove welcome, as a friendly recognition from your brave General.”
“We are in a little perplexity as to the means of disposing of them,” said St. Clair, laughing, and yet feeling as much embarrassed as if she had not been half Indian, and standing in the depths of her native wilderness.
“I can trust no one as yet,” she answered. “The whole transaction must remain a secret, or I would send men here to take them to my home.”
“Can we not do it, madam?” he asked; “can we not row over to it?”
“Yes; it is not far and stands almost upon the shore.”
She pointed to the stone front of her dwelling, which shone out grandly in the moonlight.
“It is hardly gracious to make you perform such an office,” she said.
“It becomes an honor in your service,” he replied; “besides, we have our boatmen below.”
“Then, since you are so kind, I will go on in advance and show you the way,” she said.
They conducted her to her canoe, and set rapidly off in the wake of silver that flashed under her paddles.
They landed on the shore, close by one of the entrances to her mansion, and began unloading the countless packages which crowded the boats. Mahaska stood by, apologizing gracefully, but in her heart she was delighted at forcing these two proud pale-faces to superintend work which should have belonged to the meanest workmen—even in so slight a thing, it was a pleasure to humble any of the hated race.
Mahaska threw open the doors, and ushered them into her dwelling. All manner of gifts which could conduce to her comfort were soon crowded into the rooms: rich coverings; piles of cushions; silken draperies; costly sets of china and plate—every thing which it had been possible to bring that could be expected to afford gratification, was suddenly thrown from the midst of luxury and refinement into the wildness of savage life. Then St. Clair drew from his breast a casket and placed it in her hands. She raised the lid, and the precious stones it contained flashed in the moonlight.
She smiled with keen satisfaction. She might have endured bare floors, coarse viands, all the nakedness of savage existence, but she was growing avaricious—eager to heap up stores of gold and gems, not from a miserly feeling, but because such treasures were tangible evidences of power.
“I am overwhelmed by such profusion,” she said; “there are no thanks that could express a shadow of a return. Tell your General, Mahaska could not be bought either by gold or jewels; but the thoughtfulness and friendship exhibited in the choice of his gifts have won her heart forever.”
“He will be rejoiced to hear your message,” returned St. Clair, “and I am sure that this alliance can be made equally useful to both the English and yourself. Besides, the Generalwas anxious personally to open communication with a lady already so much talked of throughout the land.”
“These are early days,” said Mahaska, proudly; “let them wait, and see what time shall bring forth. Your Governor and I, at all events, are bound together by the closest ties that can ever knit human hearts—mutual interests, and mutual hate of a common enemy.”
They did not understand the import of her words, and looked somewhat surprised.
“Our hatred for the French,” she continued, answering the expression in their faces. “Talk of the power of love! There is no feeling binds human beings so closely as a common hate!”
Then, fearful that her words and tone had revealed too much ferocity, she hastened to speak of other things, careful to do nothing which would send them away with an unfavorable opinion.
“I wish I had some token to send your General,” she said; “but, alas, what could I find in this wild domain which would give him pleasure?”
“If I might venture to suggest,” said St. Clair, hesitatingly.
“Well, sir?” she asked, in her sweetest voice. “Surely I can not be so terrible that you need hesitate.”
“If you had a portrait of yourself that you would permit me to take back to the General, it would make him a proud and happy man.”
“What!” she exclaimed, smiling still, though her voice rung out a shade less soft, “would you have a picture of the Indian queen that your nation might look at it and say, ‘This is the panther of the forest?’”
“Madam, you wrong our gallantry and our manhood by the doubt.”
“Truly, I think so,” she answered. “Let me see—let me see. I have a miniature of myself—yes, you shall send Rene for it soon. I shall have news for you then. It is the face of a mere girl; but, tell the Governor, when he looks at to remember that it is a pledge of the woman’s sincerity.”
“Many, many thanks,” returned St. Clair. “Now, madam, permit us to take our leave. The night is wearing on, and we have a long journey before us.”
“Farewell, then, gentlemen. Believe me, you have bound me to you by this night’s work. I may one day be able to give you a proof of my friendship.”
“The knowledge that we possess it is good fortune enough,” they answered.
They bent over the hand she extended, and, with more words of courtesy, passed out of her presence.
Mahaska stood in the hall where she had parted from her visitors, till the softly-handled oars died away on the lake. Then, without more delay, she began, by the light of the moon which filled the apartment with its radiance, to complete the task which lay before her.
Gi-en-gwa-tah had instructed the Indians to make chairs and sofas for the new dwelling—rough seats of hewn wood; but Mahaska speedily hid their uncouthness with the rich cushions the Englishmen had brought. She arranged Gi-en-gwa-tah’s furs with excellent taste, draped the windows, and before the day broke, had restored every thing to order, and wrought a transformation so complete in the mansion that it seemed like the work of magic.
When all was prepared, she sought her canoe and rowed back to her lodge, to await the influence of her night’s work.
Early in the morning Mahaska was aroused by a crowd of women, who had left their wigwams early in order to witness the miracle which Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother had whispered abroad as likely to follow Mahaska’s removal to her stone house. They found the young chief preparing Mahaska’s canoe for an early sail to the stately residence. His wife had said nothing to him about her hopes of spiritual assistance in beautifying her residence; and, though he had heard the rumor, he deemed it only female gossip, which prevailed in that remote Indian village just as actively as it is to be found in our cities of the present day.
The sun was up, and cresting all the little wavelets on the lake with golden flashes, when Mahaska appeared in the door of her lodge. The women gathered around her, clamorous for information regarding her night-visions. She looked fresh and blooming as if she had spent the whole night in healthful slumber.
“Mahaska had beautiful dreams,” she said, smiling. “Allnight the prophet whispered great things in her ear. She is glad at heart.”
Gi-en-gwa-tah came up while she was speaking; he had cushioned her canoe with furs and lined it with scarlet cloth which fell over its edges like a fringe. It looked like a cradle on the soft swell of the waters, inviting her to enter. In his rude way, Gi-en-gwa-tah had furnished his rude dwelling, but he felt anxious, and dissatisfied with the effect. Could he have carpeted the floor with ermine, and made her couches of ebony, the generous savage would have done it. Indeed, the furs which he had lavished on her new home would have almost bought the furnishing of a palace; but their value was nothing to him so long as they remained only a type of savage life.
But Mahaska had no misgivings. Bright, cheerful and queenly, she stepped into the canoe and sat down among the furs, beautiful as Cleopatra in her barge. Gi-en-gwa-tah placed himself opposite her in the little craft, and, followed by a dozen other canoes, crossed to the slope of land on which the stone mansion was built. There a crowd met them—chiefs, warriors, and women—all forming a picturesque escort to the young couple as they left the canoe and walked up to the front entrance.
The door was opened by Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother, who uttered a cry of delighted surprise as she crossed the threshold. Mahaska entered smiling, but the young chief paused in the first room, mute with astonishment. The walls, bare and black the night before, were now covered with brilliant hangings, which fell from light, gilded cornices; small carpets covered the center of the floor, and fur rugs were scattered about; the rude tables were overspread with gorgeously-wrought covers, and on the mantel were tall silver candlesticks, from which tapers of tinted wax beamed with a rich promise of light.
Mahaska turned to her husband, smiling:
“Mineto is good; he has sent his spirits to work for us in the night. This is not our palace, but a great medicine-lodge which we are to inhabit for the good of our people.”
Gi-en-gwa-tah could not speak: surprise had struck him dumb.
Mahaska looked around the room with an air of queenly satisfaction. A great oaken chest, clamped with brass, stood in the room. She lifted the lid, revealing a glittering store of beads, knives, gorgeous stuffs and embroidered blankets. She filled her arms with these things and went forth among the people on the lawn, to whom she distributed them generously, buying golden opinions with every lift of her hand.
“It is the great Mineto who sends them to his chosen tribe; see what care he takes of my people.”
The savages gave their simple hearts to this woman, whose powers they considered divine.