Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter. A Forest Romance

by Metta Victoria Fuller Victor

  CHAPTER XIV.

  GATHERING TOGETHER.

  The first ray of morning startled the young couple from their sweet buttroubled sleep.

  "You shiver!" exclaimed Philip, looking at the damp, disordered attireof his wife; "I ought not to have allowed you to fall asleep in thosewet garments."

  "It is but a momentary chill, dear Philip. Oh, let us go and find myfather. Certainty will be more endurable than this dreadful suspense."

  They arose, pursuing their search through the gray dawn whichbrightened soon into as glorious a September day as ever shone. Therewas no use in trying to convict Mother Nature of crime and bloodshed;she appeared totally unconscious of the waste and ruin she had spreadover the land the previous day. Through the wrecked wilderness theystruggled forward, silent, sad, looking in every direction for tracesof their friends, and making their way, as correctly as they coulddiscern it, with the river for a guide, toward the home which theyexpected to find overwhelmed and scattered by the storm.

  It was four or five hours before they came in sight of the cabin, sotoilsome was their course; many times Alice had been obliged to rest,for hunger and fatigue were becoming overpowering, and now Philip hadto support her almost entirely, as she clung to his arm.

  "Take courage, dearest,--there is the house, and standing, as I live!"

  The storm, sweeping on, had just touched with its scattering edges thehouse, which was unroofed and the chimney blown down, and otherwiseshaken and injured, though not totally demolished. As the two came insight of it, they perceived old Pallas, sitting on the front step inan attitude of complete despondency, her apron thrown over her face,motionless and silent. She did not hear them nor see them until theystood by her side.

  "Pallas! what is the news? where is my father?"

  The old woman flung her apron down with a mingled laugh and groan.

  "Oh, my chile, my darlin', my pickaninny, is dat you, an' no mistake?"Springing up, she caught her young mistress to her bosom, and holdingher there, laughed and sobbed over her together. "Sence I seen you safeagin, and young masser, too, bof of you safe and soun', as I neber'spected to behold on dis yearth agin, let me go now, 'long wid my oleman--O Lord! let thy serbent depart in peace!"

  "My father--have you heard from him since the storm?"

  "No, darlin', not from one single soul, all dis awful night. De ladiesdey were wid me till de mornin' broke, den dey set out, cryin' andweepin' and wringin' dere han's, to look for all you who was in dewood. Oh, dis has been a turrible season for a weddin'. I had a senseall de time suthin' was goin' to happen. My poor ole man!"

  "What's become of him?" asked Philip.

  "De Lord above alone knows where he be now--oh! oh! He was tuk rightup to glory, wid his weddin' garment on. I see him sailin' off, but Icouldn't help him. Laws! if missus isn't a goin' to faint dead over."

  "Give her to me, and get something for her to eat and drink, if you canfind it, Pallas. She's worn out."

  "I've kep' up a fire in de kitchen, which is low, an' not much hurt.I'll spread a bed down dar and lay her down on de floor till I makesome right strong tea. Lord be merciful to me a sinner! It's times asmake ole Pallas's heart ache. Come 'long wid her, masser--I'll tro amattress on de floor. Dar, lay her down, I'll hab de tea direckly.Sech sights as I see yesterday is 'nuff to unsettle anybody as sotsdar heart on de tings ob dis worl'. When I heard my chile scream, Itought a knife went right tru me--I could n' run, nor do nuthin', I wasjes' all weak and trimbling. Dar I stood, lookin' into de woods, wideberybody out ob sight, when I hear de storm a comin'. First I toughtit was de ribber broking loose; I looked round, but _dat_ was jes' aspeaceable as a lamb. Here, honey, set up, and drink yer tea. Den Itought de woods on fire, as dey was onct, when dey made sech a roar,but dey wan't. Den I looked up to see if de sky was fallin', which wasde fust I saw ob de wind. It war a whirlin' and a roarin' like eber somany tousend, hundred mill-wheels. It look for all de worl' like a bigfunnel wid water pourin' tru. I was so scart, I run back to de house,hollerin' for my ole man, who was settin' on de fence, lookin' t'odderway. But he didn' hear me. It went right past, holdin' me up agin dewall as ef I war nailed. I seen de air all full ob ebery ting, chickensand pigs and boards and trees, and it tuk my ole man right up off datfence an' carried him up to de nex' worl'. I see him, wid my own eyes,ridin' off in de chariot ob de wind, way over de woods, way off, off,out ob sight. Oh, missus, when I see him goin' so, I mos' wish I was'long. I know Saturn was a foolish nigger, and a mighty sleepy-headed.He was n' no use to me much--he was a great cross; but dar neber was abetter-hearted husband. He min' me like a chile. And he was so fond ofpresarbed plums, and such a hand to help 'bout de kitchen--'pears to meI hain't no heart. But laws, what bus'ness I to speak _my_ troubles,and you neber to know where your own fadder is. If masser don't comeback, I'll jes' lay down an' die. Poor ole nigger no more use. Dar'sSaturn tuk away in de clouds wid his bes' raiment on, as de Biblecommands; and neber one moufful ob de weddin' feas' which is standin'on de table, and de rain leaking down upon it--oh! hi! hi!"

  "Poor Pallas, I'm sorry for you. But, Philip, I must go--I feelstronger now."

  "No, no, my own darling Alice, you are not fit for further exertion.Remain here in the hands of your nurse. Pallas, I leave my wife toyour care. She is in a fever now. Change her clothing and give her hotdrinks. I must be off. Keep up heart, dearest, till I get back."

  He had hastily disposed of a cup of tea and a few mouthful of food,kissed his bride, and was hurrying from the house, to go again into thewoods for tidings, when a tumult outside drew all three to the door.Every one of the missing party, except poor old Saturn, whose own casewas hopeless, and the raftsman himself, were coming up in a group.Virginia and Mrs. Raymond had encountered them in their search forthe clearing, and had led them out of the woods. Mr. Raymond and theclergyman had been together overtaken by the tempest; but it was not sosevere where they were, as in that part of the forest reached by Mr.Wilde and Philip. Trees had fallen before and around them, but they hadescaped unharmed. Night coming on, and the rain and changed characterof the scene bewildering them, they had not been able to make their wayout of the woods; and of course had suffered from anxiety, in commonwith their friends. Their astonishment and joy at beholding the brideand groom in safety were only held in check by the uncertainty whichhung about the fate of their host. Not one would enter the house, untilthat fate was known; taking from Pallas the cakes and cold meat shebrought them, they hastened away--all but Alice, who was really too illfrom exposure and surpense, to make any further effort.

  "Yes, you rest yourself, and try to be composed, honey. Ef your dear,good father is really taken away, you hab much to be thankful for, thatyer not left unpertected in this bleak worl'. You've a husband datloves you as his heart's blood--and yer father himself will smile inde heaben above, to tink how glad he is, all was made right, and youwith some one to care for you, 'fore he was tooken away. Dar', dar',don't hurt yourself a sobbin' so. I cried all night, and now dese poorole eyes hab no more tears lef'. When I tought I was lef' all alone--nomasser, no missus, no husband--my heart was like a cold stone. I feelbetter now. Ef masser war here, I could almost rejoice, spite of my'flictions. I mus' bustle round and get suthin' ready for all desetired, hungry people to eat, and get dem bed-clo'es dried where de rainbeet in. De table sot, jus' as it wos, when I was out here goin' ferto put de coffee on, and herd you scream. My poor ole man. He's goneup, sure, for I saw him go. Saturn 'll neber eat no more woodchuck piein dis life--hi! hi! Now, now, pickaninny, guess whose comin', and whothey're a-bringin'. You needn't jump out of yer skin, chile, if it _is_yer own father--hurt, too, I'm afraid, by the way he looks."

  Alice sprang to the door. Philip was lending her father the aid of hisstrong young arm. Mr. Wilde walked with difficulty, and his arm hungdown in a helpless manner.

  "Oh, father, are you hurt?"

  "Nothing to speak of--not worth mentioning,--a little bruised, and myleft arm broken. Positively, I don't feel a bit of
pain, since I seeyou unharmed, my darling."

  "But you'll come to a realizing sense of it, by the time we have setit, after its going so long unattended to," said Philip.

  "If I groan, punish me for it," replied the sturdy raftsman.

  The broken limb was soon set and splintered, and the friends had timeto look in each others' faces, and realize they were altogether andsafe.

  "You have not told us how you escaped so remarkably," said they toAlice.

  "Not anodder word at presen'," said Pallas, opening the door tothe dining-room. "De weddin'-feas' has not been eaten--sech as itis, ye mus' stan' in need of it. 'Tain't what it would have beenyesterday,--but I've did my bes' under de circumstances."

  "Take my place, Philip; I'll lie here on this lounge, and when puss isthrough, she can feed me."

  "If missus'll cut up his food, I'll wait on massa."

  As the declining energies of the party were recruited by the dinner,their spirits rose to something of the hilarity of the previousday;--if it had not been for genuine sympathy with the sorrow of theold servant, mirth would have prevailed in proportion to their pastdistress. An occasional exclamation, smothered in its birth, told themtheir host was not quite so easy as he affected to be; but he would letno one pity him, bearing his pain with fortitude.

  In the center of the table stood the bride's-cake, a snowy pyramid, thetriumph of Pallas's skill, wreathed about with garlands. It was fair tolook upon, within and without, and sweet to the taste as agreeable tothe eyes.

  "Dar' was de whites of fifty eggs beaten up in dat cake," its makerdeclared, in an aside to Virginia.

  "Then I should call it a very egg-spensive and egg-stravagant article,"remarked Mr. Raymond, who had heard the assertion.

  "'Tain't any too nice for de bride it was made fer, masser."

  "There's a ring in it," said Alice, as she performed the duty of theoccasion by cutting the cake. "Who has it?"

  Everybody took their piece with curiosity, and finally Mr. Irving heldup the golden circlet, giving, at the same time, a glance towardsVirginia, too expressive to be misunderstood.

  "You'll be married next, Mr. Irving, and we hold ourselves all invitedto the wedding," said Mrs. Raymond.

  "I hope I may be," replied that gentleman, with a second glance towardthe bride-maid; but she was looking to her plate, and did not seem tohear him.

  Virginia had pursued the art of flirtation too long to abandon it atonce.

  As they lingered over the closing cup of coffee, Alice related thecircumstance which had probably saved her life. It seemed she could notendure to dwell upon the terror of her flight in that wild maniac'sarms, passing it over as briefly as possible.

  "When I had given up all hope of rescue, and felt as if actually dying,from the terror of my situation, my abductor suddenly paused, beforewhat seemed to be a small ledge of rock, such as frequently juts out ofthe ground in these woods, especially near the river. Pushing aside avine which trailed thickly before it, he thrust me into the mouth of acave, but instead of following me in, as I expected, he drew the vinecarefully over it again, and sprung away, singing,--

  "'I'll hide the maid in a cypress-tree, When the footstep of death is near.'

  "The feeling of exquisite relief which came to me in that moment wasquickly superseded by the thought of his speedy return. While I stoodthere, trembling, waiting for him to get out of sight and hearing,in the hope that I might creep out and elude him, I heard the roarof the approaching tempest. Peering through the foliage, I felt myrocky shelter tremble, and saw the forest fall prostrate. As soon asthe first shock was over, I crept out, thinking nothing but of thedestruction of my friends. Too distracted to feel any personal fear, Iwandered through the storm, I knew not how many hours, until, by themerest chance, a flash of lightning revealed Philip, not four feet awayfrom me."

  "The first thing you did, I suppose, was to give him a curtain-lecture,for staying out nights," remarked Mr. Raymond.

  "And now, dear father, I think the roof blew off, and the house blew topieces almost, and your arm was broken, on purpose to convince you ofthe necessity of spending your winter with us. It would be foolish totry to make this comfortable again, this fall. Your men can put a roofon, to protect it from the weather, and we'll leave it to its fate."

  "Since he's disabled and can't defend himself, we'll take him captive,"said Philip.

  "Have it as you like, children, I expect to be led around byapron-strings after this. Next spring, I'll take Virginia, and comeback here, and will put up the handsomest mansion that ever graced thisriver-side--it shall be large enough to accommodate the whole family,present and prospective. _You_ needn't color up, little girl,--I wasonly thinking of Virginia's future spouse--eh, Virginia,--what's Mr.Irving blushing for?"

  "I don't know--men should never blush--it's a weakness."

  "I wish I could be as unmoved as you," he whispered in her ear, for hesat by her side. "It would be more becoming to me than it is to you.Women were made to blush and tremble."

  "_Were_ they, Mr. Irving, then you'd better leave those things to them,and not be intruding upon their sphere."

  "Perhaps I shall obey you, Miss Moore," he said, recovering all hiscoolness.

  She felt that he was a man not to be trifled with. Sensitive and fullof sensibility as he might be, he was not the man to let a woman puther foot on his neck. He might worship the foot, but he would notsubmit to be trampled upon by it. He would love, truly and deeply,but he must be respected and loved in return. His was just the spiritfitted to take the reins and curb the too headstrong and wilfuldisposition of Virginia--under the control of a wise and gentle naturelike his, her faults might change into virtues.

  Philip was secretly regarding them, delighted to see how soon herecovered his self-possession, and how quietly he made his companionfeel it. He saw that she fretted under it, and finally, giving up,exerted herself to be friendly and agreeable.

  "They will be well matched. I never saw a better mate for my naughtycousin. I had an idea of it, when I invited him to act as groomsman.She'll be a good while giving up, though."

  That Virginia would not yield to this new mastership very soon wasevident. When they had left the dining-room, and were standing on theportico, Mr. Irving desired to place the ring which had fallen to himupon her finger--but she refused it with considerable hauteur.

  "I only desired you to wear it for safe-keeping. It's a lady's ring,and I don't know what to do with it. Mrs. Raymond, will you accept it?"

  He placed it on the finger of the married lady with as pleasant an air,as if it had been accepted where he first offered it.

  "I had not ought to wear it; give it to some fair maiden."

  "There is but one, and she will not have it. If there were others, Ishould certainly offer it. So you see it is chance only that has leftit to you."

  "Well, I'm not very much flattered Mr. Irving--but the ring is just aspretty, and I ought to be thankful to chance."

  So the ring was lost to Virginia, without the satisfaction of herhaving annoyed the one who offered it.