The Knight of the Golden Melice Part 15

"He is no more friend of mine than I hope all the world are my friends," answered the girl, glad to get away to acquaint the lovers that Spikeman was in the house.

"I wish," she muttered, as she closed the door, though not so loud as to be overheard, "that some folk were not so great friends of mine."

"Have my people given my friend anything to eat?" inquired the a.s.sistant, on the departure of the girl.

"Waqua is not hungry," answered the Indian. "His white brother has fed him until he has no place for more."

"What thinks Waqua of the painted man?" asked the a.s.sistant, observing that the eyes of the savage wandered every now and then to the painting.

"It is a great medicine," replied the Indian, noticing with admiration the resemblance between it and the a.s.sistant, (whose father's portrait it was.) "My brother loved his father very much, and so, before he was called to the spirit land, my brother put him on a board, even as white men put faces in frozen water. But my brother is wiser, because he makes his father stay on the board, instead of disappearing like faces in frozen water."

"My brother is right," said the a.s.sistant, not unwilling to avail himself of an opportunity to impress on the mind of the savage the superiority of the whites; "but he has seen little of the wisdom of the white man. It is a light thing to put a man upon a board, though at the same time he may be in the spirit land. It is wonderful to Waqua, but a white child understands it. If Waqua remains the friend of the white man, greater and more wonderful things shall he learn."

"Waqua is an Indian, with an Indian head, and he is afraid it is not big enough to hold all these things. It makes his head ache to think of them."

"My brother's head will grow. But will he follow me now into another part of my dwelling?"

The Indian made a gesture of a.s.sent, and the a.s.sistant preceding him, the two went in the direction of the room where were Arundel and Eveline.

Prudence, when she left Spikeman and Waqua together, had rushed in upon the lovers to apprise them of the a.s.sistant's presence. The proud spirit of the young man revolted somewhat at the idea of stealing out of the house like a felon, and a little time was spent before the expostulations of Prudence and the entreaties of Eveline could prevail. And when he rose to leave, some time longer was consumed in tender leave-takings, which, though they seemed instants to the lovers, were lengthened almost into hours to the anxious waiting-maid.

Hence it happened that when the door was opened, Arundel was confronted by the a.s.sistant. Surprise and indignation were both expressed in the countenance of Spikeman, as he demanded to what circ.u.mstance he was indebted for the honor of the young man's company.

"Master Spikeman knows," answered Arundel, "without any averment on my part, that I came not to see him."

"It needs no declaration of thine to a.s.sure me of that," said Spikeman.

"I do nought," said Arundel, "which I will not avouch by both deeds and words. Plainly, I came to see Mistress Eveline Dunning, and strange indeed would it be, were I in this strange land to avoid her presence."

"Speak out the whole truth," said Spikeman, with rising pa.s.sion, "and avow that like a thief thou didst steal in to corrupt the affections of my ward, and teach her undutifulness to her guardian."

Before the young man could reply, Eveline interposed.

"You do Master Arundel wrong, sir," she said, "to charge him with aught unbecoming. He comes. .h.i.ther in open day, and that by my special invitation."

The eyes of the spirited girl flashed, and her cheeks were crimson, as she made the avowal.

"This from you, Eveline Dunning," exclaimed Spikeman, with ill-suppressed rage. "Have you so far forgotten the modesty of your s.e.x as to make this declaration in public? I knew before, that this boy had bewitched you, but dreamed not that he had triumphed over all maidenly reserve."

There was something insufferably insulting, both in the tone and in the insinuation concealed in the language, which was not entirely understood by the pure mind of Eveline, but which was maddening to her lover.

"Only a base ingrate and liar," he cried, "would slander celestial purity. Master Spikeman knows that what he utters is false."

"Ha! darest thou, malapert boy," said Spikeman, advancing to Arundel with his arm raised, as if about to strike; but Waqua stepped between them. He had gravely listened to the heated conversation, and supposed he understood its purport.

"Let not the wise white man," he said, addressing Spikeman, "imitate a mad wolf in his anger. Give to my brother for his wife the girl whose cheeks are like the summer morning, for her heart has hid itself in his bosom."

The fury of Spikeman, thus bearded in his own house, was now directed to the savage. Anger appeared to have completely deprived him of reason, for turning upon the Indian with glaring eyes and exerting his strength to the utmost, he hurled him with irresistible force across the room against the wainscot, where his head struck a post, and he fell bleeding on the floor.

Waqua was instantly on his feet again, and his first motion was to clutch the tomahawk, but Arundel catching his arm, compelled him to desist from his revenge. Holding the savage by the arm, Arundel pa.s.sed out of the apartment, leaving the a.s.sistant standing as if petrified by his own violence, while Eveline, pale, yet resolute, had sunk upon a seat, and Prudence was hysterically shrieking. As soon as they stood in the street, Arundel said:

"I am grieved, Waqua, that thou, on my account, shouldst have been the object of the ruffian's rage. Its possibility occurred not to me."

"Let not my brother grieve," said the Indian. "It is nothing; not so much as the scratch of a bear's paw."

"I take blame to myself for this day's unhappy violence, and hope that no further mischief may spring out of it. Will my brother grant me a favor?"

"The ears of Waqua are open," said the savage.

"Promise me, for my sake, to seek no revenge, but to leave it in my hands."

But the Indian looked moodily on the ground. "Waqua," he said, "will kill his enemies himself."

"If," continued the young man, "my brother knew that an attempt to punish the bad white man would bring ruin on the maiden and on me, would he be willing to destroy them too?"

"Waqua will do no harm to his brother."

"Waqua's heart and mine are one, and he has a wise head. He sees that the arms of the English are very long, and their hands strong, and he will not run into them, for they will crush him."

"My brother shall see the inside of Waqua. Let him look up. Behold, the sun s.h.i.+nes because he is the sun, and the wind stirs the forest leaves because he is the wind, and water runs, and fire burns, because the Master of Life made them thus; and so the Indian will never forgive, for then would he cease to be an Indian. But Waqua will do nought to injure his brother."

With this unsatisfactory answer the young man was forced to content himself as well as he could, though his mind misgave him as to the possible consequences of the insult. He trusted, however, that Spikeman's knowledge of Indian character would place him sufficiently on his guard to make abortive any attempts against him, and determined to keep a watchful eye upon his wild companion for the present, and until time should have blunted sensibility to the injury. For this reason, and in order also to counteract, as far as might be, the effect of the incidents at the house of the a.s.sistant, after purchasing the articles which they came out to procure, he took the savage with him on the visit to the Governor, which he had promised the knight to make. Nor is this a circ.u.mstance that should excite surprise; it being the policy of the colonists to cultivate the best understanding with the natives, to accomplish which object the latter were not only admitted into their houses, but sometimes even invited by the princ.i.p.al inhabitants to seats at their tables. They found Winthrop at home, and were admitted to his presence.

"Welcome, young friend," he exclaimed, "with England's red rose still blooming in thy cheeks; and a welcome, too, to my Indian brother."

"This, right wors.h.i.+pful sir," said Arundel, "is Waqua, to whom I owe my life, which he saved this morning from a panther."

"Ah!" said Winthrop, "one of the hazards not uncommon in our wild-beast-infested forest, and young blood is rash. But relate to me thine adventure."

Arundel was obliged to detail the circ.u.mstances of his escape, which he did with the greater pleasure, as contributing thereby to recommend his companion to the favorable consideration of so powerful a person as the Governor. At the conclusion of the narrative, Winthrop devoutly said:

"The praise be to Him to whom it justly belongs, and whose unsleeping Providence perpetually watches over us. Yet," he added, turning to the Indian, "be not the instrument forgotten by whom He manifested his favor. The life of a white man is very precious, and Waqua may ask much because he saved it."

"It is a small thing," replied the Indian. "My brother would have killed the beast himself without Waqua's arrow; it only saved him a little trouble."

"How modest is ever true merit, Master Arundel," said Winthrop, "and that is noticeable in both civilized and savage. This community of feeling doth, as I take it, evidence, in connection with other matters, the truth revealed in the Scripture, (nature herself thereunto bearing witness,) that we are descended from one common parent, of whose qualities all do partake, even to the remotest generations. But, however desert may be disclaimed by thy preserver, it were shame, morally, as also censurable in another view, were I to show myself no sense of the obligation."

So saying, the Governor opened the desk before him, and taking therefrom a medal attached to a glittering chain, presented it to the Indian,

"Take it," he said, "and wear it in testimony that the white chief knows how to estimate thy service, and desires to cultivate thy friends.h.i.+p."

But the Indian held not out his hand to receive the proffered medal.

"Why dost hesitate?" inquired Winthrop, in some amazement, (for never had he known before an ornament, of which the savages are usually so fond, refused.) "Is there aught else that would pleasure thee more?

Speak freely thy thoughts."

"Waqua thanks the white chief," replied the savage, softly, "but he wears only one totem, and that is one which cannot be taken from his neck. See!"

So saying, he threw open the folds of the robe of skins that covered his chest, and disclosed upon his naked bosom the picture of a turtle.

It was painted upon or p.r.i.c.ked into the skin in divers colors, so as to be indelible, and though rudely done, was sufficiently well executed to convey an idea which could not be mistaken of what was intended to be represented.