The Bride Of Fort Edward: Founded On An Incident Of The Revolution Part 19

_Helen_. Yes--_Indians_--are they not?

_Jan_. Ay--it must have been their yelling that we heard.--We need not be alarmed.--They are from the camp--they have come to that spring for water. The wonder is, your soldiers should have let them pa.s.s.--You will see them turning back directly now.

_Helen_. (_Turning from the window_.) Shelter us--all power is thine.

_Jan_. Holy Virgin!--they are coming this way. Those creatures are coming down that hill, as I live. Yes, there they come.

This strip of wood hides them now. What keeps them there so long? Ay, ay,--I see now--I am sorry I should have alarmed you so, Ma'amselle, for nothing too--They have struck into those woods again, no doubt; they are going back to their camp by the lower route.

_Helen_. No.

_Jan_. It must be so. There is no doubt of it. Indeed, we might be sure they would never dare come here.--They cannot know yet that your army are gone. Besides, we should have heard from them ere this. They could never have kept their horrid tongues to themselves so long, I know.--Well, if it were to save me, I cannot screw myself into this shape any longer. (_Rising from the window_.)

_Helen_. Listen.

_Jan_. 'Tis nothing but the sound of the river. You can make nothing else of it, Ma'amselle,--unless it is these locusts that you hear. I wish they would cease their everlasting din a moment.

How that breeze has died away! Every leaf is still now! There's not a cloud or a speck in all the sky.

_Helen_. Look in the west--have you looked there?

_Jan_. Yes, there are a few little clouds beginning to gather there indeed. We shall have a shower yet ere night.

(_The war-whoop is heard, loud and near_.)

_Jan_. Mon Dieu! Here they are! It is all over with us! We shall be murdered!

(_She clasps her hands, and shrieks wildly_.)

_Helen_. Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ Put down that window, and come away. We must be calm now.

_Jan_. It is all over with us,--what use is there? Do you hear that trampling?--in the street!--they are coming!

_Helen_. Janette--Hear me. Will you throw away your life and mine? For shame! Be calm. These Indians cannot know that we are here. They will see these houses _all_ deserted. Why should they stop to search _this?_ Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ they are pa.s.sing now.

_Jan_. They have stopped!--the trampling has stopped!--I hear the gate,--they have come into the yard.

(_A long wild yell is heard under the window. They stand, looking silently at each other. Again it trembles through the room, louder than before_.)

_Helen_. I am sorry you stayed here with me. Perhaps--Hark! What was that? What was that? Was it not _Maitland_ they said then? It was--it is--Don't grasp me so.

_Jan_. Nay--what would you do?

_Helen_. I must speak with them. Let go my arm! Do you not hear? 'Tis Maitland they are talking of. How strangely that blessed name sounds in those tones!

_Jan_. You must not--we have tempted Heaven already--this is madness.

_Helen_. Let go, Janette. It is not you they seek. You can conceal yourself. You shall be safe.

_Jan_. She is wild! Nay, I was mad myself, or I should never have stayed here. It were better to have lived always with them, than to be murdered thus.

(_Helen opens the window, and stands for a moment, looking silently down into the court. She turns away, shuddering_.)

_Helen_. Can I meet those eyes again?

(_Again the name of Maitland mingles with the wild and unintelligible sounds that rise from without_.)

_Helen_. Can I? (_She turns to the window_.) What can it mean? His own beautiful steed! How fiercely he prances beneath that unskilful rein.

Where's your master, Selma, that he leaves me to be murdered here? A letter! He bids me unfasten the door, Janette.

_Jan_. And will you?

_Helen_. They are treacherous I know. This will do.--(_Taking a basket from the toilette_.) Give me that cord. (_She lets down the basket from the window, and draws it up, with a letter in it_.)

_Helen_. (_Looking at the superscription_.) 'Tis his! I thought so. Is it ink and paper that I want now? (_Breaking it open_.) Ah, there's no forgery in this, 'Tis his! 'tis his!

_Jan_. How can she stand to look at that little lock of hair now?--smiling as if she had found a bag of diamonds. But there's bad news there. How the color fades out, and the light in her eye dies away.

What can it be?

_Helen_. (_Throwing the letter down, and walking the floor hastily_.) This is too much! I cannot, I cannot, _I cannot go with them_! How could he ask it of me? _This is_ cruel.

He knew, perfectly well, how I have always feared them--I cannot go with them.

(_She takes up the letter_.)

(_Reading_.) "Possible"--"If it were possible"--he does not read that word as I did when I kept this promise--_Possible_? He does not know the meaning that love gives that word--"If I had known an hour sooner,"

--Ay, ay, an hour sooner!--"Trust me, dear Helen, they will not harm you." _Trust me_, trust me. Won't I?

_Jan_. She is beckoning them, as I live!

_Helen_. Bring me that hat and mantle, Netty. I must go with these savages.

_Jan_. _Go_ with them!

_Helen_. There is no help for it.

_Jan_. With these wild creatures,--with these painted devils?--No--Like nothing human they look, I am sure. Ah see, see them in their feathers and blankets, and that long wild hair. See the knives and the tomahawks in their girdles! Holy Mary! Here's one within the court!

_Helen_. Yes, there he stands--there's life in it now.--There they stand--the chesnut boughs wave over them--this is the filling up of life. They _are_ waiting for me. 'Tis no dream.

_Jan_. Dare you go with them? They will murder you.

_Helen_. If they were but human, I could move them--and yet it is the human in them that is so dreadful. To die were sad enough--to die by violence, by the power of the innocent elements, were dreadful, or to be torn of beasts; to meet the wild, fierce eye, with its fixed and deadly purpose, more dreadful; but ah, to see the human soul, from the murderers eye glaring on you, to encounter the human will in its wickedness, amid that wild struggle--Oh G.o.d! spare me.

_Jan_. If you fear them so, surely you will not go with them.

_Helen_. This letter says they are kind and innocent. One I _should_ believe tells me there is no cause for fear. In his haste he could not find no other way to send for me.--The army will be here soon,--I _must_ go with them.