Ellen Walton Part 6

"Your words are words of doom. How am I to interpret your enigmatical conduct? But now I thought you a friend, come to give me timely warning to guard against threatened danger, when, all at once, you declare my situation a hopeless one! If you _are_ my friend, why not warn me sooner, and in time?"

This was said in a firm manner, and gave the stranger to understand he had no common, timid nature to deal with. The truth was, the thought had flashed across Ellen's mind that this man was some way connected with Durant, perhaps employed by him, and she began to conclude it might be a trick to frighten her, after all. If so, or if not, she determined to meet boldly what he had to say. The man perceived the change, and replied:

"My seemingly enigmatical conduct is easily explained. It is true I have a long time been known to the fact that most determined designs of mischief were entertained against you, and that your enemy was ceaselessly at work to perfect his plans; but just as I was preparing to come to inform you of this state of affairs, I was so unfortunate as to be desperately wounded in battle with the Indians. I have but just recovered; the fresh scar you can see on my temple."

And brus.h.i.+ng away the hair, he exposed a hardly healed, terrible gash. This appeared to satisfy his listener.

"I have, therefore, done the best I could, and you must charge the rest to fate--a fate whose inexorable decree I almost rebeled against bowing to.

But I am here, my warning is given, and I can only regret that it comes so late."

These words and the exhibition of the scar restored Ellen's confidence in the stranger, and, with it, her fears returned. He perceived this, and proceeded:

"Though your case is a desperate one, there is still some hope; there is a _possibility_ of your deliverance from impending peril."

"Then let me know how I am to act."

"I fear to do so."

"Why fear?"

"It may prove a desperate alternative."

"Nothing can be so dreadful as falling into the hands of my enemy."

"Perhaps not; still you may be unable to choose between the evils."

"Let me know them, and I will try."

"As I said, it may be a desperate alternative, and I must ask of you beforehand to pardon me for being compelled to give you only the choice between what may prove one of two equally direful evils. Your only hope of relief from present evil _is in me_."

This was an unexpected announcement; it fairly startled Ellen, and, in the moment of bewilderment, she made no reply. He continued:

"Do not consider me selfish--at least do not condemn me for my selfishness.

If you have ever loved, you know what almost omnipotent power that pa.s.sion has over the mind and heart. For long years I have loved you in secret, with a burning, consuming intensity of feeling, which defies all efforts to describe. I cannot tell you all the joy or agony love has awakened in my bosom; I can only say, that you have it now in your power to render me supremely happy, or abjectly miserable. If you will cast yourself on my love, I will save you from your plotting foe, and devote my life to your service, and to make you happy. If I had any other means of saving you, I would not propose this one, but I have not. Just now I have not time to explain all that I would like to make clear, and must ask you, for the present, to take my word; for at any moment, even now, your malignant foe may come upon us, and then all is lost. Can you accept the alternative?"

"I--I thank you, but I cannot."

"You say, in view of all the facts, this is your unalterable decision, from which I may not hope to persuade you?"

"It is. For all or any kind intentions and wishes you may have had or still entertain for me, please accept my sincere thanks; but do not attempt to change my purpose, for it is fixed, and I would save us both the pain of repeating it."

"Then farewell, and G.o.d protect you!"

"Amen!"

This one word was said in such a fervent, and, at the same time, confident manner, the stranger paused a moment as he was turning away; for a short time he seemed engaged in deep thought, which had the effect of totally changing his former, and apparently predetermined course of action. Turning again to Ellen, who saw his hesitancy of action, he said:

"You rely, then, in G.o.d?"

"I do, most a.s.suredly."

"And you have a hope that He will deliver you from the sad situation in which you are now placed?"

"I humbly trust He will s.h.i.+eld and protect me from harm."

"Perhaps that confidence induces your present course of action?"

"Doubtless it does, in part."

"Well, let me tell you that angels nor devils can save you!"

"I have no wish to be saved by the devils."

"I wonder you can be at all merry in your situation."

"I begin to be less apprehensive than I was."

"Indeed! and why, pray?"

"To be plain, an explanation will not be very flattering to your vanity, or very creditable to my penetration, and, therefore, I had rather not make it."

"I see you suspect me, so you may as well know the truth."

Saying which, he threw off some outward disguises, and stood before the astonished maiden--LOUIS DURANT himself!

"You see me, Ellen Walton, and in me your worst enemy, because you will not permit me to be a friend. I have made the present attempt to win you by stratagem, in the not very sanguine hope of success. I have failed--now for my revenge. Know that all I have said concerning my plans, and the net I have woven around you, is true. You are now in my power, and I only forbear taking you captive at this time because I wish you to live for a short period in dread and suspense, as you once made me."

"Keep to the truth, sir, in making your statements."

"I intend to; and so bid you beware, and _to escape if you can!_"

"I have a very comfortable expectation for the future, thank you."

"Well, cherish it, then; hug it close, for it will be short lived, I give you fair warning."

"The warnings of a man who comes with the tissue of falsehood, are of little worth. Keep them to yourself."

"Beware how you presume on my forbearance; it may give way."

"I presume on nothing but your cowardice."

"Enough! enough! I will bear no more! I go, but you will see me soon again!

_Your doom is sealed!_ '_Cowardice!_' This from a woman! G.o.ds! but I'll remember this in my revenge!"

He started, as if to leave the place, but turned again, and said.

"Girl, I dislike to leave you in this manner. For the love I bear you, I would still see you happy--happy as a wife and not a despised outcast--the scorn of society. You might once have been my honorable bride; yes, you might still be. Pa.s.sing by all your insults, I would still offer you my hand, and honorable marriage."