CHAPTER XV.
BEN AND ALICE.
"Now that the wedding-feast is disposed of, I must remind you all thatthere is yet work to be done. I have not heard from the mill; and poorold Saturn must be searched for, as well as that unfortunate young manwho has made us so much trouble. It frets me to think I can do nothing.Philip, you must do service in place of my broken arm."
The party were making ready to go out again, when two or three mencame from the mill, to inquire after the family, and to relate to thecaptain the story of the vast damage his property had sustained.
"Oh, what is de riches of dis worl', masser," said Pallas, as she,too, paused from her work to hear their interesting narrative of wreckand chaos upon every side, with accounts which had reached them frompeople farther down, where the tornado had made a yet more terriblevisitation. "What is de riches of dis worl', when a bref of de Almightycan sweep 'em away like as dey were dust and trash. My ole masser heturn you 'way, 'cause yer had no riches, and your chile-wife, she dieof grief; and you come out here and work and work in de wilderness halfas long as de chil'en of Israel--and you set your foot down, _you_ willbe rich, and your chile shall have much to gib her husband when she gotone--and de storm come, and all yer pine-trees is laid low, and yermill-wheel is broken at de fountain, and your riches pass 'way in dewhirlwind."
"It's time for me to begin thinking of these things I suppose, Pallas.But, as to my losses--I can stand 'em. My wood-choppers must workbriskly this winter, among this fallen timber--and as for the old mill,I think it has gone to pieces to hasten the fulfillment of my plan oferecting a steam-mill in its place. I've worked for Alice, and now Imust work for Virginia."
"Let us at least," said the clergyman, who was standing by, "bereminded of our duty by this humble colored woman--let us offer upthanks for our wonderful preservation."
All knelt, except the disabled raftsman, while the minister offered upa heartfelt thanksgiving, when the party set forth into the tangledforest again. Alice, who had been overcome more by anxiety than byfatigue, was so recruited, that she insisted upon going with Philip.Her familiarity with the woods she thought would enable her to tracethe way to the spot where Ben would doubtless be found a corpse;the fact that he was high up in the branches of a tall tree whenthe tempest struck the spot, making it almost certain that he wasdestroyed. Two or three foresters, Raymond, and Philip, followed theirguide, as she wound through and climbed over matted branches and fallentrunks, pausing occasionally for some trace of the familiar aspect ofyesterday. In many places the forest looked actually as if a band ofgiant reapers had passed that way and mowed down the trees in mightyswaths. Again, when the tornado had taken a more whirling moment, thegreat trunks would be twisted and snapped off in long splinters, tenor twelve feet from the ground. An overwhelming sense of the terrificpower of their unwelcome visitor oppressed them, as they beheld itsravages in the broad daylight.
"And yet, dear Philip, it may have been sent by Providence to saveme from a fearful fate--or at least, it _did_ save me, and I amgrateful--oh, so grateful," whispered the young wife, as Philipassisted her over a huge tree which lay, torn up by the roots, acrosstheir path.
"It must have been somewhere about here," she said, presently.
"I am sure I have no idea of the locality," answered Philip.
"Yes! there is the ledge of rock, and the cavern into which he thrustme. Poor Ben! I forgive him all. I hardly dare go on--I am afraid Ishall see some dreadful sight;" and she shuddered.
"Perhaps you had better rest yourself, while we search this vicinityclosely."
"Oh, no! I am too nervous to be left alone. I will keep by your side,"and she clung to his arm, growing paler every moment, and scarcelydaring to look before her.
"Hush!" exclaimed one of the foresters, half-an-hour later, turningback toward the young couple who were some distance behind. "Don't lether come near. We've found him; he's dead as a hammer."
Alice sat down upon a fallen tree-trunk, faint and trembling.
"Stay here, dearest, a few moments. I will come back to you," andPhilip went forward with the men to where, amid the ruins of theforest,--Ben lay, a crushed and senseless human thing. He wasdreadfully mutilated, and to every appearance dead. They dragged himout from under the heavy branches, and as they did so, a low groanstartled them. One of the men sank down and took the head upon his knee.
"Where's Alice?"
Ben unclosed his eyes, as he asked the question, moving them about fromone face to another with a searching glance.
"I'm dying--bring her quick. Oh, do bring her, won't you?"
The gasping voice was loud and thrilling in the eagerness of itsentreaty. Philip turned away and went for his wife.
"Do you think you can bear the sight?"
"If he wishes to see me, I shall not deny a dying man. He took many astep for me, in his better days--poor boy."
Ben seemed to distinguish her footsteps as she drew near. He could notstir, but his eyes turned in that direction.
"Are you cryin' for me?" he asked, as she stood by his side, the tearsflowing down her cheeks like rain. "It's enough to make a man die happyto see you cryin' for him, Alice."
"O Ben! I wish I could help you," she sobbed.
"I'm past earthly help, and I'm glad of it. It's the best thing couldhappen to a used-up fellow like me. I don't blame you for it, Alice,but I'm to blame for things I've done, and I won't ask you to forgiveme. My head's been on fire for weeks--I've been in a strange state--Ican't recall what I've did or said. Then I got hurt, I don't knowhow--and when I could think again, that burning pain in my head wasgone. I knew I was dyin', and I wanted to see you. I wanted to carrythe pictur' of your face to the next world. I shouldn't be ashamed toshow it to the angels--if they'll have any thing to do with a poor,ignorant fellow like me, as Pallas said they would. You're married,ain't you?"
"She is my wife," said Philip, gently, taking her hand.
"It made me crazy to think of it once; but it's over now. Alice, you'vemy blessin' and my wishes that you may be happy all your life. Forgiveme the trouble I've made ye, and may you and him be happy long afterthe grass grows over poor Ben Perkins."
Alice sobbed aloud, and the rough men standing around were grave andsilent. The last sentence had been spoken in a whisper, and it wasevident that life was ebbing away rapidly. He closed his eyes, and thesweat gathered on the pallid face, but a short time since, rich withthe olive and crimson of health and youth.
"I shan't be twenty-two till next month," he whispered, with shut eyes."Put it on my tombstone, and let 'em put on it--
"'Oh, his heart, his heart was broken For the love of Alice Wilde.'"
They stood looking at him.
"Alice--good-by. Alice--where are you? Alice!"
"Here, Ben--here I am;" but she spoke to a corpse.
He died with the name of the woman he had loved with all the power ofhis passionate nature trembling upon his last breath.
The next day they buried him in a lovely spot on the bank of the river;and, spite of all his errors and crimes, he was not unwept and notunmourned. Once he had been gay and frank, kind and honest, handsomeand merry--and the memory of his good qualities swept away the judgmentpassed upon his later actions.
Poor Saturn's remains were not discovered; and Pallas, with thesuperstition of her class, was inclined to believe that he had beentranslated bodily, in the chariot of the wind, to that better world ofwhich they had spoken so much together. It was a pleasant belief, andafforded her great consolation.
"He allers was so fond of dressin' and good clo'es; and he'd been takenup in his new suit as if a-purpose to please him. Ef he'd only apartaken of de weddin'-feas', he couldn't hab been better prepared 'anhe was. Hi! hi!"
It was a picturesque-looking party which sailed away from Wilde's millone brilliant day in September.
"One doesn't see such a bridal-party every day, or take such a bridaltour," remarked Virginia to the groomsman by her side. "It's bett
erthan six fashionable weddings, with the usual routine. I used to have acontempt for the romantic--but I'm beginning to like it."
Yes, even the aristocratic Virginia, the beautiful metropolitan, beganto be infatuated with the romance of the forest.
We may yet hear of more remarkable changes than her change of opinion.We may yet see a villa, charming as those which grace our lordlyHudson, rising amid the elms and beeches on the banks of that fairerWestern river--for love, beauty, taste, and money can accomplishwonders more surprising than making the wilderness blossom like arose--and "out West" Aladdin's lamp is no myth.
But, for the present, we will leave this picturesque party sailing downthis broad, silver river in the purple and gold of an autumn day--leaveit to its joyous light, and leave that one new-made grave to itssilence and shadow.
THE END.
THE GOLDEN BELT
Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter. A Forest Romance Page 15