Ellen Walton Part 8

"Well, love, just banish it. You are certainly in no personal danger; and there is hardly a possibility, let alone a probability, protected as I shall be, of my encountering serious danger on my way home."

"I know all you say; I can see no cause of fear; no reason to apprehend danger; yet I _do_ feel alarmed; but it is a vague, undefined sensation, which I hope reason will soon banish from my mind. I am not now, and never have been, a believer in presentiments, and I do not intend to become a convert to the notion to-day."

"I am glad to hear you speak in that manner. There are but few things in the compa.s.s of possibility that may not be achieved, if we bring a resolute will to bear upon them. The belief in presentiments, signs of good and bad luck, and the like, is calculated, in no small degree, to 'make slaves of us all,' and to detract very much from the happiness we might otherwise enjoy. I have known persons who were perfect slaves to such things, having their evil omens and good omens, their bad days and good days, their moon signs, their owl signs, their cat and dog signs, and I know not what all other kinds of signs, all of which were regarded with the reverence due only to sacred things. I must confess I have often been disgusted at the tomfoolery of some of these 'signs' people."

"Really, I hope you do not intend to be _personal_ in your remarks?"

"My usual reply to such inquiries is, 'if the shoe fits, wear it;' but you know, love, I had no intention of alluding to you in what I said; at least, if you did not know it, I tell you so now."

"Very well; your amusing strictures on the 'signs' have had the effect to dispel, in a good degree, my forebodings of evil, whatever may have given rise to them. I presume, if the sign is really reliable, I may now conclude that the danger, if any was near me, has pa.s.sed away."

"One would naturally suppose that the more imminent the danger, the heavier would be the pressure on the spirits."

"And who knows but some unseen calamity _was_ near us--a serpent, for instance, whose deadly fangs might have proved fatal, or some other unknown or invisible foe, with power to work us evil?"

"Without entering the field of speculation, we will just suppose your snakes.h.i.+p has departed, and, as your spirits have recovered their wonted elasticity, let us talk of more pleasing and interesting matters."

"With all my heart."

And _had_ the serpent, Durant, really withdrawn himself? Had some long buried cord of human sympathy at last been touched in his heart, and the slumbering emotions of a better nature awakened? Let us hope so if we can.

The lovers continued to converse of their hopes for the future, and regrets for the immediate separation; and their attention became so fixed in each other, that it would have required some extraordinary occurrence or sound to arouse them. In reply to a remark of his companion, Hamilton said:

"Yes, but four months, and our probation will be ended. Would that they would speed away as rapidly as the past week. Four months, and then shall our happiness be--"

The sentence was never finished. At that precise moment rude hands grasped each lover. A smothered cry arose to Ellen's lips, but was hushed by a covering which was placed and fastened over her mouth. They were both secured with thongs, and led away into captivity. As Ellen was being secured, the miscreant captor hissed in her ear:

"Be of good cheer, you are in the hands of Durant, the 'DOG!' who distinctly remembers your former kindness and amiability!"

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CAPTIVES.

With all the speed possible, Durant hurried off toward the Ohio, determined as soon as it could be done, to place that river between himself and captives and any pursuers that might follow them, when it became known that the lovers were missing.

It was a matter of wonder with Ellen's family what could keep her and Hamilton out so late in the evening; and when darkness set in, and they were still absent, the wonder changed to alarm. Search was instantly made; they were traced to their resting-place; the evident marks of a scuffle were visible; and the unanimous opinion of all was that they were in the hands of Indians. Preparations for pursuit were immediately inst.i.tuted, and by daylight next morning, a strong band of armed pioneers, well mounted, were on the trail of the fugitives, determined to retake the captives, if such a feat were in the bounds of possibility.

Durant had everything so arranged, that his party need not be subjected to a moment's delay. Every member of his band, including the prisoners, expected a vigorous pursuit, and the lovers were not without hope that it would prove successful. In this hope, they, as far as circ.u.mstances and ability permitted, endeavored to r.e.t.a.r.d the progress of the captors by slow movements; and Durant was finally constrained to threaten them, if they did not step with greater alacrity; for he feared they might be overtaken.

At length the hilly banks of the Ohio were reached; the clear waters of that n.o.ble stream lay before them; and between the prisoners and despair, and no friends in sight to bid them hope! Durant now concluded all was safe; and the malice of his heart, which the pressure of circ.u.mstances had kept smothered, began again to display itself. Pointing to the verdure-clad and tree-crowned hills on the other side of the river, he said:

"Once there, amid the lovely groves of Ohio, and you are beyond the last hope of recovery from my power, my beautiful girl! Then and there I shall have the exquisite pleasure of informing you more particularly concerning my plans for the future. For the present, receive my a.s.surances, that nothing else could give me such unbounded satisfaction as the felicity unspeakable of having won my old and dear love from all compet.i.tors for her hand and person, and the certain a.s.surance, that, for the time to come, she is all my own, without fear of rivals.h.i.+p!"

The bitter irony attempted in this malignantly polite address went to the heart of the fair girl; but she resolutely set herself against any display of fear, or the least manifestation of alarm, well knowing that the marks of such emotions would but increase the revengeful feeling of delight evinced by her adversary.

Just as Durant concluded his speech, the tramp of horses' feet was heard in the distance, and the cry raised by the Indians:

"White man come! white man come!"

All hands sprung to unmoor the canoes, which were in readiness, concealed among the drooping branches of some trees which overhung the margin of the stream. While thus engaged, Hamilton, who was watching his opportunity, knocked down the Indian who guarded him, sent Durant whirling round like a top to the distance of ten or twelve feet, seized Ellen in his arms, and with strength almost superhuman, and a speed miraculous under the circ.u.mstances, bounded away in the direction of the approaching hors.e.m.e.n, who were now visible through the interstices of the forest, a good way off, but coming rapidly on to the rescue, though, as yet, in ignorance of their near proximity to friends and foes.

"Seize them! seize them!--shoot the infernal dog!" roared Durant, in a hoa.r.s.e voice of pa.s.sion and rage, so soon as he recovered from the astonishment and fright into which the unceremonious a.s.sault of Hamilton had thrown him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Hamilton knocked down the Indian who guarded him, sent Durant whirling round like a top to the distance of ten or twelve feet."--See page 54.]

His first command was not obeyed, for Hamilton and Ellen were already beyond reach when the order was given; but the second one led to the discharge of two guns without effect, and the leveling of a third by Ramsey, with a coolness and steadiness of nerve and aim which gave a.s.surance of success. His finger was on the trigger, when Durant himself threw up the muzzle of the rifle, and sent the ball whizzing through the air, some ten feet above the heads of the fugitives.

"My revenge must be fuller than that, or not at all," he said. "The ball would have killed both, and I would not have had that for the world."

He had hardly uttered these words, when the sharp crack of the remaining Indian's rifle, who had recovered from the blow given him by Hamilton, and was glad of the opportunity of so speedily avenging it, rung in his ear with piercing shrillness, and looking in the direction of the flying couple, Durant saw Hamilton stagger with his burden, and then both fell to the earth. Instantly the demon was roused within him; every emotion of fear was swallowed up in his usually cowardly heart by the burning thirst for revenge which rankled in his bosom; and crying "_Come_!" he rushed to the spot where the lovers lay, followed by his comrade. Both were wounded, but neither was dead. Lifting the bleeding Ellen in his arms, he bore her back, while Ramsey and an Indian did the same by Hamilton. Springing into their canoes, and bending to the oars with all the strength they could muster, they were soon far out into the stream, and had just reached a point of safety, when the pursuing party of whites came up to the water's brink.

Several shots were fired at the canoes without effect, and then the men tried to force their horses into the river; but by yelling and splas.h.i.+ng the water with their oars by the enemy, the beasts were effectually frightened, so that no efforts of their riders could induce them to attempt the unwilling task of swimming across.

Durant could perceive the agony of the father and brother of Ellen, as they wrung their hands in despair, still vainly striving to urge forward their stubborn steeds. Feeling perfectly secure, now that the pursuers were effectually baffled in their designs, he gave orders to cease the frightening demonstrations, and continue their course. In a few minutes the Ohio sh.o.r.e was gained, and they soon buried themselves in the deep woods beyond and were lost to the sight of those on the opposite bank, who reluctantly turned their faces homeward, and, in deep and mournful silence, retraced their steps, revolving in their minds what next could be done.

Hamilton and Ellen were both severely wounded, the ball having pa.s.sed through the right side of each, but no vital part seemed to have suffered, and the wounds were not deemed mortal of themselves, but might prove fatal if not properly attended to. Durant's first care was to have them dressed and bound up; and he used every means within his reach to expedite their recovery. He had them taken to a place of safety, a kind of cove, known to himself and Ramsey, which was in an obscure and unfrequented spot, where they were carefully nursed until in a fair way for speedy recovery.

Until now, Durant had been careful to say and do nothing that might tend to excite the minds of his captives, fearing that inflamation might ensue, and rob him of his antic.i.p.ated triumph and revenge. But so soon as their convalescence was distinctly manifest, the crisis and the danger past, he began to torment his victims; the one of his wounded vanity, his disappointed avarice, and his venomous hate; the other of his envy and jealous malice. In consummating his revenge upon Ellen, he would not only gratify his malicious and vengeful nature, but minister, also, to the basest pa.s.sions of a corrupt human heart. Seating himself in her presence one day, he said:

"I now understand why it was that I found no more favor in your sight while so foolishly attempting to win your love. Your heart was already occupied, a circ.u.mstance you took good care to conceal. Thank my stars, my rival is now in my hands! And do you know, my dear, that he is a doomed man? If not, permit me to inform you of the fact."

"Sir, what has he ever done to you that you should wish to harm him?"

"Done! Has he not robbed me of your love, your hand, and made my life a hopeless desert and a weary waste?"

"No, sir, he has not. My heart was his before I saw you, and _you_, sir, attempted the part of a robber, not Mr. Hamilton. Now judge yourself by your own rule and what fate should be yours?"

"Ah, very fine logic, truly; but, unfortunately, you have not the power to back it up. I presume you have never beheld the sacrifice of a victim on a funeral pile, nor more than read of prisoners burned at the stake; how would such a spectacle affect you, think?"

This was said with a peculiar expression, and was evidently intended to make a strong impression; but whatever its real effect upon the mind of his auditor, no visible tokens of dread or pain were manifested, and Ellen replied:

"I do not know, so much would depend on circ.u.mstances; but that I would abhor the actors in the scene of barbarous cruelty, I can well imagine."

This was not the kind of a reply expected, and Durant changed his discourse from an insinuating tone to a direct manner.

"I perceive it will be necessary for me to render my meaning more explicit, and I now change the form of my query, and beg to know how you would probably feel, were you compelled to witness the burning of your lover at the stake?"

A momentary paleness blanched the cheek of the fair girl, as this heartless interrogation was fully comprehended, but recovering herself quickly from the rude shock, she replied:

"I doubt not the sight would be a harrowing one, but I do not antic.i.p.ate such an unlikely event."

"Pardon me, but I may as well tell you at first, that this fate is in store for you."

"Why do you persist in this attempt at refinement of cruelty? Bad as you are, I give you credit for too much humanity to believe your words are more than an idle threat, which you have no intention of putting into execution."

"Then you have given me credit for more humanity than is justly my due; for I never was more earnest in my life, and it is my fixed determination to do exactly what I have intimated."