CHAPTER XX.
THE COMING OF WANDA.
The spectacle of a pair of lovers equally pale and proud alighting ather door was rather dispiriting to Lady Sarah Maitland, but she didnot lose heart. This she rightly considered to be the proper thing for_them_, not for her to do. At least they should not escape "thesolitude of the crowd," and opportunities for bringing them into thissort of solitude were not lacking. The same afternoon an English lord,who had recently been making a tour of the States, with some officersof His Majesty's 70th Regiment, then stationed at York, arrived atStamford Cottage, and in their honour a large number of guests wereassembled that evening. The soft radiance of mingled moonlight andcandle light, the artistic luxury of the place and its surroundings,the exquisite robes of soft-voiced women, the cultivated tone andmanner of the men, with a sort of subtle and distinguished aroma ofBritish nobility shed over the whole--all of these things held forEdward Macleod a potent witchery. This evening he was in unusuallygood spirits, and was entertaining a group of gentlemen, who hadgathered about him in the centre of the large drawing-room, by anamusing account of his hunting experiences in the backwoods. Thesounds of subdued mirth that followed his recital induced a passingbevy of ladies to join them. Lady Sarah took the arm of Helene, andgave him her flattering attention along with the rest. A young mannever talks poorly from the knowledge that he has gained the ear ofhis audience.
"Really, a remarkably bright young fellow," confided Lord E---- to SirPeregrine, at the close of another story, which was accentuated bylittle bursts of gentle laughter.
A slight breeze blew from a suddenly opened door upon the wax tapers,and the next moment a strange figure made its way through thatbrilliantly dressed assemblage, and laid its hand upon the arm ofEdward. With his face flushed and eyes brightened by the sweetlybreathed flattery that, like wine, was apt to go to his brain, heturned and beheld Wanda. She had evidently walked all the way from herhome for the express purpose of finding him. Her dress, made up ofvarious coloured garments, the cast-off raiment of those whose charityhad fed and lodged her on the way, was covered with dust; hermagnificent hair lay in a great straggling heap upon her shoulders."My father has gone to the spirit-land," she said, "and now I come toyou." Lady Sarah and Rose advanced immediately, with protestations ofpity and sympathy, and entreaties that she would go at once with themto find food and rest. But she was immovable as granite. "I have cometo _you_," she said, her beautiful eyes fixed upon Edward, and sheuttered a few words of endearment in the Huron tongue. Nobodyunderstood them but the young man, his sister, and hostess. The latterlady felt herself growing very cold, but she accompanied the pair to aprivate parlour, and returned to her guests with an amused smile uponher lips.
"Poor thing!" she said in a clear voice, distinctly audible to all."Her foster-father died last week, and left no end of messages andrequests to Mr. Macleod, his friend and constant companion in hishunting expeditions. The girl has that exaggerated idea of filial dutycommon to the Indian races. She could not rest until she had fulfilledhis dying wishes."
No; Lady Sarah certainly did not merit the compliment she had givenher husband--she was not the soul of honour--but what would you? Withher cheery voice and confident laugh she had dispelled at a breath thevile suspicion of scandal. The company experienced a wonderful relief,and the conversation naturally turned to the peculiarities of savages.Rose had vanished, and it was generally supposed that she was with herbrother and that queer Indian girl. In reality she was locked in herroom, saturating her pillow with her tears.
Edward was alone with Wanda. For a moment the blood ran hot in hisveins, and he longed to act the part of a man. He longed to take thehand of this beautiful travel-stained savage, and lead her back intothe midst of those fashionably dressed, superficially smiling, ladiesand gentlemen. He longed to declare, nay, rather to thunder forth, thewords: "This is my promised wife! Through weary days and nights, withsore feet and sorer heart she has been coming to me. Burned by the sunand blinded with the dust, hungry and thirsty, and aching in everyfibre, her trust never faltered, her love never failed. And her loveis matched by mine. The loyalty and devotion of my life I lay at herpoor bleeding feet."
That would have satisfied his imagination, but in real life imaginationmust always go a-hungering. He sat down beside her with a face farmore weary than her own.
"Wanda," he burst forth, "my poor fatherless, friendless child, whatcan I say to you? I am a villain, a coward, a reptile! I thought Iloved you, and I do not. No, though my heart aches for you, I do notlove you. Oh, you look as though I were murdering you, and it isbetter for me to murder you now by a few sharp terrible words, than bya life-time of neglect and loathing."
The colour had all ebbed from her face. She fell on her knees besidehim, and her liquid childish eyes and sweet lips were upraised to his.
"No, no, my little fawn, I must not kiss you. It is wicked to kisswhat we do not love. And I do _not_ love you." He was shelteringhimself behind that assertion, but of a sudden he broke into crying,and his tears fell upon her face. "Child," he said, rising and pacingthe room, "do you know what it is to many a man, who cares a greatdeal for your lips and eyes, and nothing for your mind and soul? It isto marry a beast! You would be wretched with me. We should growinexpressibly tired of each other. Tell me," he cried, stopping shortin his swift walk to and fro, and confronting her with parched lipsand wet eyes, "could you endure to have me say cruel things to youevery day? Could you bear to have me think bitter things of you in myheart, though I left them unsaid? How could you live under my coldnessand neglect? You must learn to hate me--to scorn me,--to think asharshly of me as I shall always think of myself."
She was faint and dizzy, but she rose to her feet, and groped feeblyto the door, cowering from him as she went, with her hands over hereyes. Then she turned back with a low wail of irrepressible anguish.
"I cannot leave you," she said, "I cannot give you up!"
Again he was bound in her chains. Her feverish hands held his, herburning eyes drank up the dew in his own, her pathetic presencethrilled him with a sense of love stronger than any he had dreamed ofor imagined. Neglect, cruelty, bitterness, scorn! What did the wordsmean? Like poisonous weeds they had grown fast and rank before hiseyes, but in the burning face of this all-conquering love they hadshrunk, withered and dead to the earth. Yes, it was the vile earthfrom which they had sprung, and it was in the radiant heavens thatthis great love was shining. Wanda's victory was nearly complete. Theonly thing lacking to make it so was that she should renounce italtogether. And this she did--not with conscious art but by that sureinstinct of womanliness which teaches that a man won by other thanindirect methods is not won at all. Then she said, pushing him gentlyaside, "I will go away now, and never see you again, because I am aburden to you. No," for he had put his hand upon her wrist, "you mustnot touch me, because--" the words choked her for a moment, and thenthey fell from her lips with a sound of fathomless despair--"it is asthough you were my little child that I was forced to leave forever."Again she had reached the door, but this time it was his arm aroundher that brought her back, his protestations of undying affection thatrevived her drooping frame.
There was a light tap at the door, which opened to admit Lady SarahMaitland. "My maids will attend to this poor child," she said,addressing Edward. "She will have a bath, and food, and a bed.Meantime, I want you to help to entertain my guests."
"Really?" The young man frowned at the idea of rejoining that gaythrong. He was in a state of mental exaltation--so far up in theclouds that the idea of attending a reception given by his brillianthostess seemed by contrast spiritless and earthy.
"It would be a great kindness to let me off," he pleaded.
"It would be the greatest kindness to compel you to come," sheinsisted. There was a significance in the eye and tone of thisthorough-bred woman of the world that were not without effect uponEdward, who at once accompanied her. His bright face, collectedmanner, and ready speech, lessened the impression m
ade upon thecompany by the episode which had drawn general attention to him earlyin the evening. Not till after the guests had begun to retire did heagain see Wanda. Running upstairs to get a wrap for the fair shouldersof a young lady, who preferred a moonlit seat on the lawn to therather oppressive warmth within doors, he chanced into a littlesitting-room in which Wanda, left alone for a moment, was resting withclosed eyes in a great easy chair. Fresh from her bath, with her dampheavy hair lying along the folds of a loose white _neglige_, shelooked almost too tired to smile. Edward advanced with beating heart,but stopped half-way, suddenly smitten by the sight of a pair oflittle bruised feet, carefully bandaged, resting upon a stool--thelittle feet that had travelled such a long hard road, that had beentorn and wounded for his sake. A great wave of shame swept over him.
"I am not worthy to stand in your presence," he said penitently,kneeling at her side.
A low murmur of joy escaped the Indian Maiden's lips.
She drew his head down for a moment under the dusky curtain of heroverhanging hair, and then her eyes closed again.
Edward rose and beheld in the open doorway Helene DeBerczy; her largegaze, darker than a thunder cloud, was illumined by a long lightningflash of merciless irony.
An Algonquin Maiden: A Romance of the Early Days of Upper Canada Page 20