CHAPTER XIII.
At about the same time that Nell Lamar met with her adventure with Wolf, important events were transpiring at Glen Forest.
Mrs. Clendenin was summoned away to a distance from home by the serious illness of a sister of her late husband. Ignorant of the precise nature of the disease, she was unwilling to expose Marian to it, and though almost equally reluctant to leave her behind, decided upon that as the safer course.
So with much tender, motherly counsel bestowed upon this child of her love, and many an injunction to Vashti to watch over her darling, she took her departure.
The young girl felt inexpressibly lonely without the mother who had been to her friend, teacher and almost sole companion, everything in one, for they had led a very secluded life, paying and receiving few visits; indeed, seldom going anywhere but to church, except that Marian took many a ramble and many a ride on her pony through the adjacent woods and over the nearer hills, usually unaccompanied save by Caius, a huge mastiff who had hitherto proved a most efficient protector.
Mrs. Clendenin had indeed never been neglectful of the Christian duty of ministering to the sick and suffering so far as lay in her power, and Marian was in this regard following in her mother's footsteps.
A mile away over the eastern hills lived two elderlymaiden ladies, Esther and Janet Burns, the one a paralytic, the other feeble and nearly blind from cataract.
They had a farm, the rent of which yielded them a support, but their lives were lonely, and Marian's visits were a great boon.
She had fallen into the habit of going over almost daily to Woodland, as their place was called, and spending an hour in reading to them from the works of one or another of her favorite authors.
The Clendenins had been for generations great lovers of books, and the library at Glen Forest, though what would be considered small and of little value in these days, was large and select compared with those of their neighbors.
Marian continued her visits to Woodland after her mother had gone, and, because she found it so much less lonely there than at home, sometimes lingered half the day, to the great content of the Misses Burns.
They would gladly have induced her to take up her abode with them during her mother's absence, but to that she would by no means consent; home was home after all, and though it might be pleasant to spend a part of the day elsewhere, when night came she wanted to be in her own familiar room, with old Vashti within call.
On Sunday Marian always attended service in the little country church spoken of in a former chapter.
The neighborhood was a very quiet one, few coming or going, the same faces showing themselves in the sanctuary Sunday after Sunday, and the sight of a new one was always a source of no little interest; it may therefore be supposed that the advent among them, a week after Mrs. Clendenin set out on her journey, of a fine looking young man, a total stranger, well dressed,and of serious and gentlemanly deportment, created some little stir and excitement; especially among the younger portion of the congregation.
He sat in the pew of Mr. George Grimes, who kept the nearest inn, the sign of the Stag and Hounds, and the services had not been over many minutes before every one knew that he had engaged board there for a month, and that he was an Englishman, apparently wealthy, having brought a valet with him.
The congregation had passed out into the churchyard, and a subdued hum of voices exchanging neighborly greetings and inquiries after each other's health, mingled pleasantly with the twittering of birds, the sighing of the wind through the forest, and the low murmur of the stream on the farther side of the road.
The stranger stood aside, looking on and listening with a well bred air of kindly interest.
"Who is that, Grimes?" he asked, his eye following admiringly a graceful girlish figure as it tripped past them down the path that led out to the road where the horses were tied, and, with the assistance of one of the young men, who stepped eagerly forward to give it, sprang lightly into the saddle.
"Miss Marian Clendenin, of Glen Forest, Mr. Lyttleton: one of the prettiest young ladies in the county, if I'm a judge o' beauty," replied Grimes, lifting his hat to the fair girl.
"She sits her horse well," remarked the stranger, still following her with his eyes as she cantered away in the direction of her home, Caius bounding nimbly on by the pony's side. "But she seems quite alone, is there no more of the family?"
"Most of 'em lie yonder," replied Grimes, pointing to arow of graves not far from the spot where they stood. "Children all died young but this girl and an older brother who went West years ago. Father died within the last year, and the mother's away nursing a sick sister, I hear."
Lyttleton seemed interested, asked several more questions, walked over to the graves and carefully read the inscriptions on the tombstones; Grimes standing by his side and going on with much garrulity to tell all he knew or had ever heard of the family, and that was not a little, for he was a great gatherer and retailer of news, for which few had better opportunities.
He spoke of the late Mr. Clendenin as a man of singularly secluded habits, upright and honest in all his dealings, but strangely averse to the society of his kind.
"And I suppose," he added, "that's what has kept his wife and daughter pretty much shut up at home: at any rate the girl's never seen at a cornhusking or quilting, or any sort o' merry making, and the young fellows never get a chance to wait on her. About the only place she does go to is Woodland, to read to those poor sickly old ladies; but she's there every day I'm told."
"She is then of a literary turn, this young heroine of yours?" sneered the stranger interrogatively.
"That's just what she is, sir, so I've heard on good authority, they're a bookish family." And as they rode homeward Grimes went on to expatiate at length upon Marian's reputed literary tastes and acquirements.
"You are a good trumpeter," remarked Lyttleton. "Pray tell me, are the Clendenins wealthy?"
"Glen Forest's a valuable place, and there's only the two of them, as I told you, after the mother dies."
"And the son doesn't get it all, as is usually the way with us?"
"No: and I dare say there's money laid by, too."
The next afternoon Marian, reading to her friends in the wide, cool porch that ran along the front of the house at Woodland, saw a horseman coming leisurely along the road, as, looking up from her book, she sent a casual glance in that direction.
"It is the English gentleman," she said in a low tone, as he drew rein at the gate.
It was long since either Esther or Janet Burns had been able to go to church, and Monday's visit from Marian was anticipated with even more than ordinary eagerness because of the detailed account she would bring of all she had seen and heard the previous day. Of course she had not, on this occasion, omitted to mention the stranger in Grimes's pew.
"Where, my dear?" asked purblind Janet, straining her eyes in a vain effort to see him. "Is he riding? I surely heard horse's hoofs."
"Yes, and he is alighting at the gate," said her sister. "What can he want here? Marian, child, will you call Kitty to see what he wishes?"
"I'se here, missus," the girl answered for herself, coming round the corner of the house. "What do you want, sah?" hurrying down the path to meet the approaching stranger.
"I am very thirsty and would be thankful for a glass of milk or cold water, my good woman," he answered, lifting his hat to the ladies.
At that Miss Janet stepped forward and hospitably invited him to come in and rest himself for a little, remarking that the day was very sultry andhe must have found the heat of the sun very oppressive.
"I have indeed, madame," he said, accepting the offered kindness with alacrity, and stealing a glance of mingled curiosity and admiration at the fresh, blooming face of the young girl guest. "I think the sun shines with a fiercer heat here than in Europe, and if I do not intrude shall be very glad to rest in this shady nook until he approaches somewhat nearer his setting."
Both the sisters assured him he was welcome, and Kitty was directed to bring a glass of morning's milk and some home-made cake for his refreshment.
The Misses Burns were good, simple-minded, unsuspicious women, Lyttleton an accomplished man of the world, thoroughly unscrupulous and selfish, but able, when it suited his purpose, as it did on this occasion, to conceal his true character by polished manners and a most pleasing and insinuating address.
He was a fluent talker and knew how to adapt his conversation to those with whom he was thrown, in whatever station in life.
He addressed the older ladies almost exclusively, but his eyes continually sought Marian's face, which glowed with interest and intelligence.
He stayed for more than an hour, and made himself so entertaining that they were sorry to see him go, and gave him a pressing invitation to come again, which he readily promised to do.
With thanks for their hospitality and a courteous adieu, he at last took his departure.
"A very fine-looking, intelligent and well-bred gentleman," remarked Miss Esther, as man and horse disappeared down the road.
"He has evidently been accustomed to good society," added her sister, "has travelled a great deal and knows how to describe what he has seen; but while he talked to us, his eyes sought Marian's face for the most part."
"Surely that was but natural, seeing how much younger and fairer than ours it is," Miss Esther said, with a pleased smile and an affectionate, admiring glance at the now blushing maiden. "I am sure she makes a pretty picture sitting there under the drooping vines, with Caius crouching at her feet."
"How did you like him Marian, dear?" asked Miss Janet; "my dim eyes cannot judge whether he is as comely as Esther says."
"I do not think him quite so handsome as Kenneth," Marian answered with some hesitation, "he doesn't look so good and noble and true. But," she added quickly, the color deepening on her cheek, "I do not know him well enough yet to judge of his character, and he talks very well. Now shall we go on with our reading? I can only stay to finish the chapter, for you see the sun is getting low."
Lyttleton, as he rode briskly on toward his temporary home, was saying to himself, with an evil smile, "A pretty girl, very young, hardly sixteen I should say, and as innocent as a child; I flatter myself 'twill be no difficult task to win her confidence and learn all she knows. How much that may be I have yet to discover."
Determined to make diligent use of his opportunities, he became from that time a daily visitor at Woodland, and so conducted himself as to win the entire confidence of all three ladies, and cause them to look upon his visits as a great treat.
He had travelled much and had many adventures torelate, and stores of information to impart in regard to the strange lands he had seen. He had spent some weeks in Paris during the late Revolution, had witnessed the execution of Marie Antoinette and of many of the nobility, and had had some narrow escapes of his own; all of which he described to his little audience with thrilling effect.
Often, too, he brought a book in his pocket, usually Shakespeare's works, Milton's Paradise Lost, or some other poem, from which he would read passages in a rich, mellow voice so exquisitely modulated that it seemed to double the beauty of the author's words.
Marian's soul was full of poetry, and she would listen like one enchanted, her eyes shining, her lips slightly apart, her breathing almost suspended lest she should lose a single word or tone.
Lyttleton, without seeming to do so, noted it all with secret delight.
After a little he fell into the habit of accompanying her on her homeward ride or walk, whichever it might be, and of meeting her in her rambles, thus gradually placing himself on a footing of intimacy.
And Marian had forgotten her first intuitive perception of his character; his charms of person and manner had come to exert a strange fascination over her; she thought of neither the past nor the future when he was by her side, but lived only in the blissful present, while he saw and exulted in his power.
He made no open declaration of love, but when they were alone in the silent woods it breathed in every look and tone, filling the innocent girlish heart with a strange, exquisite, tremulous happiness.
Caius, always by her side, or crouching at her feet,was the sole witness of these interviews, and Marian could not bring herself to speak of them even to her two old friends, who, in their guilelessness, had no thought of harm to her from the daily intercourse of which they were cognizant.
Sometimes Lyttleton drew her on to talk of herself, her home, her absent brother, and asked many questions in regard to him, which Marian answered readily because it was a pleasure to speak of Kenneth.
She was eager in his praise, she would have delighted to show him to her new friend.
"You and he were both born at Glen Forest?" Lyttleton one day remarked, inquiringly.
"No; only I," Marian said, a slightly troubled look coming into her eyes; "I and the brothers and sisters who died very young. Kenneth is many years older, and it was when he was a babe that my parents came here to live."
"Ah? and where did they live before that? where was Kenneth born?"
"Somewhere in eastern Tennessee; I cannot tell you exactly, for there was no town, no settlement, just my father's cabin in a little clearing he had made in the forest, and another, a neighbor's, half a mile away."
Marian spoke hastily, with half-averted face and a perceptible shudder.
"Why that shudder, my sweet girl?" he asked, gently pressing her hand, which he had taken in his.
"I was thinking of the terrible occurrence that led my father and mother to abandon the spot," she said in low, tremulous tones; "an attack by the Indians in which several were killed. It is scarcely ever alluded to in the family and I never heard the full particulars."
"Then we will speak no more of it," he said, and began to talk of other things.
Some days later they were again alone together; they had been climbing the hills till quite weary, and were now resting, seated side by side upon a fallen tree, within sight of Glen Forest, the pretty mountain stream that flowed past it singing and dancing almost at their very feet.
Marian had her lap full of wild flowers which she was arranging in a bouquet, Lyttleton watching her with a curious smile on his lips, glancing now at the deft-fingers, now at the glowing cheeks.
She looked very pretty, very sweet and innocent; she had thrown off her hat and the dark brown curls fell in rich masses over neck and shoulders.
Caius, upon her other side, seemed to be keeping jealous watch over her, regarding Lyttleton with something of a distrust she did not share; she had perhaps never been so happy before in all her short life.
Neither had spoken for several minutes, when Lyttleton, leaning over, said softly, "Do you know, pretty one, that I leave you to-day?"
Marian dropped her flowers and looked up with a start, her cheek paling, and her eyes filling with tears.
"Shall you be sorry to see me go?" he asked tenderly, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips.
Her eyes fell, her lip quivered, one bright drop rolled quickly down her cheek. It was a rude awaking from her blissful dream.
"Oh, why did you come at all," she sobbed, "if you must go away again? and so soon!"
She did not see his exultant smile.
"Why you know I must go," he said, "since my homeis not here; but I am very glad I came, as otherwise I should never have known you, my pretty darling, the very sweetest, the dearest little girl I ever saw;" he bent fondly over her and touched his lips to her forehead.
But she shrank from the caress, her cheek crimsoning.
"No, no; you must not do that. I—I cannot allow it."
"But why not? Why should we not be kind and affectionate to each other? Ah, don't move away from me, don't avert your sweet face, or I shall think you quite hate me, and I am going away to-day."
She covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that would come, and struggled with the sobs that were half choking her.
All the brightness seemed to have suddenly gone out of her life. "Why had she let herself care for him when he was going away and would never, never come again?"
"Don't weep, sweet girl, dear Marian; it breaks my heart to see your tears, my own darling," he murmured low and tenderly, moving nearer and venturing to steal an arm about her waist; "and yet there is a strange pleasure in the pain, because they show that you are not wholly indifferent to me, that you have yielded to me at least one small corner of your precious little heart. Is it not so, dearest?"
Surely this was the language of love, and her heart leaped up with joy in the midst of her pain. She did not repulse him now, but let him draw her head to a resting place on his shoulder and kiss away her tears.
"Don't shed any more, vein of my heart!" he whispered, "for I will return to you, perhaps in a few months, certainly within a year."
"Oh, will you?" she cried, smiling through the tears, lifting her eyes for an instant to his to meet a gaze so ardent that she dropped them again, while a crimson tide swept over face and neck.
The sun had touched the western hilltops, and the trees cast long shadows at their feet, when at last they rose and moved slowly on in the direction of Glen Forest.
He would not go in, and they parted at the gate with a long tender embrace.
"Do not forget me, sweet Marian; I will come again," he repeated.
"No, no, never! I shall never forget!" she sobbed, "but, you, you will forget me when you are far away and meet other and prettier girls."
"I have seen thousands, but never one half so lovely or half so sweet," he whispered, as for the last time he snatched a kiss from the rich red lips.
He was gone, hidden from her by the windings of the road, and Marian hurried up the path to the house, sat down on the porch step, and with her arms round the neck of her faithful dog, her cheek resting on his head, wept as if her heart would break.
Old Vashti found her thus.
"What de mattah, chile?" she asked, "you didn't hear no bad news?"
Marian shook her head. "I'm so lonely!" she sobbed.
"Well dat's bad nuff, chile, but don't fret yo' heart out dat way; de missus come back soon, please de Lawd; so cheer up, honey, and come and eat yo' suppah. I'se cooked a chicken and made some o' dose muffins you's so fond of."
But Marian was destined to be more lonely still. Sadnews reached Glen Forest the next morning just as she was preparing to pay her usual visit to Woodland. Miss Janet, in her blindness, had missed her footing at the top of the stairs and fallen down the whole flight, striking her head with such force that she was taken up insensible, and in a few minutes had ceased to breathe.
The shock of the terrible accident brought a second stroke of paralysis upon the bereaved sister, and in a few days they were lying side by side in the little churchyard. They had been lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death were not divided.
CHAPTER XIV.
One beautiful October day two well-mounted gentlemen, each followed by a servant, came galloping into Chillicothe, and halted at Major Lamar's door.
In the one the major instantly recognized an old friend and companion in arms, Captain Bernard, now a wealthy Virginia planter; the other was introduced as an English gentleman, Mr. Lysander Lyttleton, his guest for some weeks, whom he had persuaded to accompany him on a visit to this new state, of whose beauty and fertility they had heard the most flattering accounts.
The major gave them a hearty welcome, and proffered the hospitalities of his house, a larger and more commodious dwelling than the one he had occupied at the beginning of our story. Tig was summoned to take charge of the servants and horses, and the major himself conducted his guests to the parlor and introduced them to his wife and sister.
Dinner was already on the table; two more plates were added and they sat down to partake of the meal, but while in the act of taking their places their number was augmented by a new arrival, a very plainly dressed, sober looking man, who came in with the air of one who felt quite at home, giving and receiving a cordial greeting.
"Ah, Tommy," said the major, shaking hands with him, "you are just in time. Tig, set up a chair and bring another plate for Mr. Dill."
Having been introduced in due form to the otherguests, and requested to ask a blessing, the new comer bowed his head over his plate, each one present copying his example, and with outspread hands and closed eyes, poured out a long prayer of fervent thanksgiving for the food set before them, and all other blessings temporal and spiritual, mingled with much humble confession of sin, and very many petitions; winding up with this remarkable one: "O Lord, we beseech thee to go into the highways and byways and hedges of our hearts and drive out the Canaanites, and the Hittites, and the Hivites, and the Perizzites, and the Girgashites, and the Amorites, and the Jebusites."
The elders of the family preserved a grave and decorous silence to the end, which the guests and the children had some difficulty in doing; the latter, especially the little boys, being almost convulsed with suppressed laughter.
At length the Amen was pronounced, Mrs. Lamar hearing it with an involuntary sigh of relief, for she had been very uncomfortably conscious that her dinner was growing cold, and she particularly prided herself on always having her meats and vegetables served up hot.
She mentally resolved to enjoin it upon the major never again to call upon Tommy Dill to ask a blessing when other guests were present.
But the guests showed no lack of appreciation of the fare, partaking of it with keen appetites and praising the viands without stint.
"Such game as this would be considered a rarity in my country," remarked Lyttleton, as the major heaped his plate for the second or third time; "but I presume it is abundant here?"
"Plenty of it to be had for the shooting," was the reply; "our woods are full of wild fowl, deer, bears, rabbits, squirrels and coons; and the rivers abound in fish. And such crops of corn as are raised in this Scioto valley you never saw, I venture to say. I'm glad you've come out here, Bernard; I shall take delight in showing you the land."
"Ah, the major is riding his hobby now," laughed Mrs. Lamar; "he is quite convinced that Ohio, you know we have just been admitted into the Union, Mr. Lyttleton, is the finest of all the states."
The Englishman bowed an assent, a half mocking smile playing about his lips.
Nell saw it and her eyes flashed. She thought he despised her country.
"How long since you left England?" asked the major, addressing Lyttleton; and then began an animated discussion of the political situation in Europe, the attitude of France and England toward each other, the career of Bonaparte, then the French revolution, particularly the Reign of Terror, Mr. Lyttleton greatly interesting the company by a graphic description of those of its scenes of which he had been an eye-witness.
He turned frequently to Nell as he spoke, for he read intense interest in her bated breath, changing color, the kindling of her eye when he told of some heroic deed, the tears that suffused it and the tumultuous heaving of her breast when the anguish of the wretched victims was his theme.
A connoisseur in female beauty, he was struck with admiration at the first sight of Nell, the delicacy of her complexion, the perfect symmetry of form and features, the queenly grace of every movement, and the abundantwealth of beautiful hair that crowned her shapely head. There was no little display of artistic taste in its arrangement, and in the simple elegance of her attire.
Lyttleton mentally pronounced Clare also a fine-looking and intelligent woman. She bore a prominent part in the conversation, while Nell contented herself almost entirely with silent listening, though from neither lack of ideas nor bashfulness, as her speaking countenance and quiet ease of manner fully attested.
Lyttleton wanted to draw her out, to hear her opinion on some of the controverted points, so seated himself at her side, when the dining-room had been forsaken for the parlor, and asked what she thought of the sentiments expressed by himself and others.
He found she had an opinion and was able to maintain it with spirit and ability.
They were still talking earnestly when Kenneth came in; so earnestly, that they were not aware of his entrance until the major pronounced his name in introducing Captain Bernard.
"Dr. Clendenin."
Lyttleton turned hastily at the sound and scanned the tall, manly figure and noble face with ill concealed eagerness and curiosity; then as the major named him, "Mr. Lyttleton, lately from England," rose with a slight bow, and accepted Kenneth's offered hand with a show of cordiality and a "Most happy to meet you, sir."
But neither then nor afterward did he give the smallest hint of his acquaintance with Marian, or his visit to the neighborhood of Glen Forest. He had read Marian's nature, delicate, sensitive, reserved, and felt sure that she would confide to no one the secret of their solitary rambles, their stolen interviews, much less of the wooingof his looks and tones, scarcely put into plain words by his wily tongue.
"I have not committed myself, did not ask her to be my wife, or even say 'I love you,'" was his inward thought; "and she would die rather than own that she had been so lightly won."
Kenneth declined an invitation to be seated.
"I am summoned in haste to a very sick patient," he said, "and merely stepped in, in passing, to ask Mrs. Lamar's kind offices for another who is suffering from the lack of proper nursing."
"Those poor devils of country doctors have a hard life of it," remarked Lyttleton superciliously, when Kenneth had gone.
"It is a noble, self-sacrificing life," replied Nell, with some hauteur, "I know of none that is more so than Dr. Clendenin's."
She would not have Kenneth pitied or patronized by this insolent stranger, and she glanced with scorn at the white hands, delicate and shapely almost as a woman's, one of which was toying with the seals of a heavy gold watch chain in a way to display to advantage a brilliant gem that glittered on the little finger.
They were alone at the moment, the major and his friend having followed Mrs. Lamar and Kenneth to the outer door.
Lyttleton lifted his eyebrows meaningly, and with a slight expressive shrug of the shoulders:
"Ah, I beg pardon, Miss Lamar! an intimate and particular friend of yours? I was not aware of it; and in fact was merely speaking of the class in general."
"And I was defending the whole profession," remarked Nell, "of which Dr. Clendenin, our family physician, isthe representative to us. We owe him much for his kind and faithful services in more than one dangerous illness among us."
Lyttleton remarked that her sentiments did her honor; then with a desire to introduce a fresh topic, "You have an odd character in that Mr. Dill," he said, "or is that the sort of grace usual at meals in this part of the world?"
"I never heard such from any one else," Nell answered with gravity. "He is an excellent man, but slightly deranged. There was a meeting of one of our church courts in town yesterday, and he always attends. But he has gone now to his home and we shall probably see no more of him for some time."
"I'm going with the major to take a look at the town; will you go along, Mr. Lyttleton?"
Captain Bernard spoke from the open door.
"Thank you, yes;" and with a courteous "Good-afternoon" to Nell, Lyttleton followed the others into the street.
He had come to Chillicothe with the undivulged intention of taking up his residence there for some months, and having made the tour of the town he called at the General Anthony Wayne and engaged board and lodging for himself and servant; his choice secretly influenced by the discovery that it was there that Dr. Clendenin took his meals; for Lyttleton had his own private reasons for wishing to see and hear all he could of Kenneth and his manner of life.
Captain Bernard made a like arrangement, though for a shorter period of time; then having seen their luggage bestowed in their rooms and refreshed themselves by a change of linen, they returned to the major's for the restof the day and evening, in accordance with his urgent invitation.
Mrs. Lamar being still absent on her errand of mercy, it fell to Nell's lot to do the honors of the tea-table; a duty of which she acquitted herself with an ease and grace that increased the admiration Lyttleton had already conceived for her.
Primitive customs still prevailed in Chillicothe; the tea hour was so early that when they rose from the table the sun had scarcely set behind the western hills. And the hunter's moon shone full-orbed over the tree tops.
The captain proposed a walk, remarking that the evening was much too fine to be spent within doors, and he and the major set off together, strolling along in leisurely fashion, smoking and talking of "the days of auld lang syne."
They had invited Nell and Lyttleton to accompany them, but both had declined; the one pleading the necessity of attending to some domestic duty devolving upon her in her sister's absence, the other that he found himself already sufficiently fatigued with riding and walking.
"Never mind me, major," he said, seating himself in the porch, and coaxing little three year old Bertie to his knee; "I'll amuse myself with these little folks till you return."
He soon had the whole flock about him, telling them stories and singing them songs, and they were having a merry time when Aunt Nell came to the door to say that it was their bed time and Maria was waiting.
Daylight had quite faded out of the sky and the air grown so chill that the warmth of the blazing wood fire inthe parlor was far from unpleasant to Lyttleton as he followed the children into the house.
Begging the guest to excuse her for a moment, and to make himself entirely at home, Nell went away with Maria and the children.
Lyttleton stood by the fire musing.
"What a handsome girl! and her manners would not disgrace a court. She's some years older, and more formed than Clendenin's sister; quite as fine looking too, though an entirely different style of beauty; not over twenty I should say. The other I take to be fifteen. Clendenin admires her vastly; I saw that in his glance, and that he saw in me a possible rival. Well, I shall enjoy getting into her good graces none the less for that."
Two candles were burning on the table, and beside them a piece of delicate embroidery which Nell took up on her return to the room.
Lyttleton drew a chair to her side and exerted his conversational powers to the utmost for her entertainment; evidently not without success; her low musical laugh rang out again and again, she gave him many a bright glance from her liquid eyes, and many a quick word of repartee.
He grew more and more interested in her and congratulated himself on his good fortune in having come upon such a gem "here in the wilderness."
Suddenly he started, turned pale, and half rose from his chair with a low exclamation of fear or dismay. His eyes seemed fixed upon some object behind Nell, whose back was toward the hall door, and she turned her head hastily to see what it was.
A tall Indian, dressed in native costume, tomahawk and scalping knife in his belt, and feathers in his hair,stood there regarding the Englishman with a contemptuous smile.
"Ugh! big baby!" he grunted.
"Wawillaway!" cried Nell, springing up and shaking hands with the chief in the most cordial manner; "you are welcome, always welcome to my brother's wigwam! Mr. Lyttleton, you need not be alarmed; Wawillaway is my very good friend, and has always been a brother to the white man."
The major coming in at that moment with Captain Bernard, echoed his sister's words of welcome, as he grasped the chief's hand and shook it heartily.
The captain did likewise, gazing with admiration upon the tall sinewy form and well developed limbs of this untutored son of the forest.
Leaving the gentlemen to entertain each other, Nell led the way to the dining-room, and with her own fair hands set before the chief an abundant supply of the best food the house afforded.
He ate heartily, then wrapping his blanket about him, stretched himself upon the kitchen floor with his feet to the fire.
"Pray do not deem me a coward," Lyttleton said in a low aside to Nell on her return to the parlor. "It was my first sight of an Indian, I unarmed, and I expected to see that tomahawk go crashing through your brain."
"I shall endeavor to make all due allowance," Nell answered courteously; but he fancied that he read contempt in the smile that accompanied her words.
It nettled him, and he mentally resolved to seize the first opportunity of proving to her that he was not lacking in courage.
CHAPTER XV.
"What do you think of this Englishman?"
Dale was pacing Kenneth's office with his hands in his pockets, while the latter, seated before his table, where were arranged various bottles, gallipots, and a delicate pair of scales, was busily engaged in weighing out medicines and putting them in powders.
He smiled slightly, then answered in a grave, somewhat preoccupied tone:
"Handsome, intelligent, travelled, apparently wealthy! can be very interesting in conversation, but haunts my office a little more than is perfectly agreeable to a man whose time is often more than money."
"No insinuation I hope?" returned Dale, laughing and shrugging his shoulders.
"Not at all, Godfrey, I feel at liberty to invite you to retire when I wish to be rid of you."
"Thank you; I regard that as an incontrovertible proof of friendship. But to return; I don't fancy the fellow; he's too highly polished; his extreme suavity of manner fills me with a desire to knock him down. There's nothing like an air of patronage to make my angry passions rise."
"And then he's forever at Miss Lamar's side, robbing every other fellow of the least chance to bask in her smiles. I haven't been able to exchange a dozen sentences with her in the week that he's been in our town. I vote that he be sent back to his own country."
Dale did not see the half spasm of pain that contracted Kenneth's brow for an instant.
"I must go now, have to ride ten miles into the country," he said, folding the last powder; then bestowing them, along with such other medical and surgical appliances as he might have need of, in his saddle-bags, he summoned Zeb to put them on his horse, ready saddled, at the door, and donning overcoat and hat, hurried out, mounted and away at a rapid gallop.
The principal streets had now been cleared of trees and Indians wigwams alike; they were very wide and straight, giving an extended view and plenty of room for the passage of equestrians and vehicles.
Far ahead of him Kenneth could see a lady and gentleman on horseback cantering briskly along; he overtook them, and in passing caught, and returned, a smile and bow from Nell Lamar and the Englishman.
They were out for a ride through the gay, beautiful woods this delicious October morning.
Something akin to envy of Lyttleton stirred for a moment in Kenneth's breast; but he struggled against it.
"Why should I grudge to him the prize that can never be mine?" he asked himself. "And am I so utterly, so abominably selfish, that I cannot rejoice in her happiness, though it be with another? Faster, faster, good Romeo," he continued aloud, patting the neck of his noble steed; "let us bestir ourselves, my boy, for we are needed yonder, and jealousy and envy must be left behind."
The intelligent creature seemed to understand, and urged by neither whip nor spur, flew over the ground with almost the speed of the wind.
Far in the distance a farm-house loomed up into sight, and as they drew rapidly nearer Kenneth could descry a horseman galloping furiously toward it from the opposite direction.
His first thought was that it might be another messenger from the house to which he was bound, some miles farther on, and where a patient lay very ill.
But no; the man drew rein at the gate of the dwelling already in sight, and as Kenneth came dashing up, was in earnest colloquy with the farmer.
They hailed him.
"Hollo, doctor! stop a bit. Have you heard the news?"
"No," he answered, coming to a sudden halt alongside of the other horseman, whom he now recognized as a farmer living some distance down the prairie. "Are you the bearer of evil tidings, Coe, an accident, some one hurt? I have hardly time to stop unless my services are needed."
"Worse than that, doctor; he's beyond your help, poor fellow; but you'd best listen, for all that!"
"Yes," put in the other man, with an oath, "it's the doin's o' those cussed red skins, an' if ye don't look out doc, they'll be takin' your scalp afore ye know it."
"What! you don't mean that the Indians have begun hostilities again, Wolf?"
"Yes, sir; I do!" he cried with a yet fiercer oath, and bringing his fist down heavily upon the palm of the other hand; "here's Coe brings news that Captain Herrod's found lyin' in the woods murdered and scalped; Captain Herrod, a man greatly loved by his neighbors, as ye must know, and of course it's their work; and the next thing they'll be burning down our houses about our ears, andbutcherin' and scalpin' men, women and children, as they did afore Mad Anthony Wayne whipped 'em into good behavior. The dirty, sneakin', treacherous rascals!" he went on, "I hate 'em like pizen."
"Is there any positive proof that Herrod met his death at their hands?" Kenneth asked, turning to Coe.
"No; but it looks likely; and I'm out to warn the settlers in the valley that we'd best be moving close together and building block-houses for protection."
"That we had," exclaimed Wolf, again cursing the savages as cruel and treacherous.
"They have often proved so in past times," said Kenneth; "yet there have been some noble exceptions, and certainly we have not been guiltless in our treatment of them."
"We've paid 'em back in their own coin," Wolf answered with a savage grin; "and we'll do it again; I'd as lief shoot a red skin as a dog any day."
"Yet it is as truly murder as to kill a white man," said Kenneth, "for God hath made of one blood all nations of men. But we have no time to talk, Coe. You go on to Chillicothe?"
"Yes, and beyond, warning everybody to be getting ready for the worst. I must be off. Good day to ye both, gentlemen."
He put spurs to his horse, but Kenneth called after him:
"Stay a moment; I passed a lady and gentleman riding out from the town. Be on the lookout for them and warn them to hurry back, will you?"
"All right, doc!" and each sped on his way, Kenneth's thoughts divided between grief for the violent death of a friend and neighbor, and anxiety for hispatient, and for sweet Nell Lamar, who might be even now in danger from the savages.
Alas, to have to trust her to the Englishman's care, and he in all probability entirely unarmed!
It was sorely against his will that Kenneth continued to increase the distance between her and himself.
Nor did he tarry unnecessarily in the sick room or snatch even a moment to refresh himself with food, though in need of it and urgently pressed to sit down to a well spread board.
"Do now, doctor, stop and take a bite," entreated the lady of the house, following him to the door; "why it'll be the middle of the afternoon or even later before you can get back to Chillicothe."
"Thank you kindly, Mrs. Bray," he said, tightening his saddle girth as he spoke, "but I really do not feel hungry, and am in very great haste to return."
"Excited over this news of poor Captain Herrod?" she said. "Well, it's just as likely to have been the work of some white man as of the Indians, I think; somebody that's had a grudge against him."
"He was much beloved, Mrs. Bray."
"That's true too, and yet I've heard he had an enemy."
"I do not know, but hope it may not prove the beginning of hostilities," Kenneth returned as he sprang into the saddle. "Good afternoon, madame. Now, Romeo, good fellow, on at the top of your speed."
He glanced warily from side to side, alert but courageous, as he skimmed over the prairies and plunged through the forests; yet no sign of lurking savage rewarded his vigilance.
He did not halt or slacken his pace till fairly withinthe limits of the town; then allowing his panting steed to fall into a walk, he looked up and down the streets.
People were hurrying along in unusual haste, or standing in groups talking earnestly, with grave, sad, anxious faces.
Major Lamar, detaching himself from one of these knots of talkers, called to Kenneth to stop, then coming to his side asked if he had heard the news.
"Of poor Captain Herrod? Yes. What is thought of it, that it's the doing of the Indians?"
"There are various opinions. We have held a town meeting, resolved to prepare for the worst, discovered that there is no ammunition in town, and started a party down the river in a pirogue, to bring a supply from Cincinnati."
"No ammunition in town, is it possible, and we may be attacked at any moment!"
"True: but we do not hear of any Indians being seen on the war path. We will hope for the best."
"Miss Nell?" inquired Kenneth, "I passed her and Lyttleton as I left town this morning."
"Yes; they met Coe and came back in something of a panic. Nell hardly the more alarmed of the two, I fancy;" and there was a sly twinkle in the major's eye, an almost imperceptible smile lurking about the corners of his mouth.
"She is safe then? I was a little uneasy, not knowing how far they meant to go."
By this time quite a little crowd had collected about Romeo, and Kenneth was plied with eager queries as to the road he had been travelling, and whether he had seen any signs of hostile Indians.
His replies negativing the last question, seemed toafford some slight satisfaction, some hope that there was less occasion for alarm than had been feared.
Still all were in favor of proceeding with the work, already resolved upon in the public meeting, of fortifying the town. Kenneth was dismounting at his office door when Barbour hailed him, with a request that he would come at once to his house, as his wife seemed in a very bad way.
"What is the matter?" asked the doctor, hurrying along by Barbour's side.
"I hardly know, doc; she's a good deal alarmed with this story of Captain Herrod's murder, and really seems hardly able to breathe."
"Hysteria, doubtless."
"Dangerous?"
"No, not particularly so," returned the doctor dryly.
But Mrs. Barbour managed to detain him in attendance upon her for a couple of hours, insisting that she should certainly die if he left her, till at last he was compelled to tell her that he could not stay another moment, nor was it at all necessary that he should.
Returning to his office he found Major Lamar waiting for him, with an invitation to tea. Kenneth demurred, though beginning to be most uncomfortably sensible that he had not tasted food since an early breakfast, but the major would take no denial.
"I have some very fine game, and have set my heart upon sharing the enjoyment of it with you," he said; "and I shall be quite in disgrace with my wife if I fail to bring you according to promise. Bernard and Lyttleton are to sup with us too; so that you may feel assured of a feast of reason and a flow of soul," he added, jocosely; "the Englishman is a good talker, you know."
"Yes, his conversational powers are enviable," Kenneth answered in a tone of hearty good will. "And since you are so kindly urgent, major, I will go with you."
A vision of Lyttleton basking in Nell's sunny smiles, calling forth her silvery laughter with his mirth-provoking sallies, thrilling her with his stories of wild adventure, or moving her to tears with the pathos of his description of human suffering or heroism in times of danger, had brought about this decision, erroneously ascribed by the major to the attractiveness of the picture he had drawn.
Kenneth made a hasty toilet and they walked over to the major's together.
Full half of Lyttleton's time during this week in Chillicothe had been spent there, as Kenneth knew to his no small disturbance. In vain he reminded himself that he could never claim Nell as his own, therefore had not the shadow of a right to stand in the way of another; he could not school his heart into a willingness to utterly resign the faint hope that would linger there, spite of reason's mighty arguments against it.