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The Hidden Children

Chapter 7 LOIS

Word Count: 7587    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

s twilight, and the starless skies threatened rain. Road and field and forest were foggy and silent; and I thou

rough the thicket to the Spring Waiontha. Not finding her there, I retrace

too poor to afford a light of any sort. But my lantern stil

g gathered in her hand, and

upant beside ourselves. Then Lois said: "Mrs. Rannock, Mr. Lo

adows, and move slowly into my lantern's feeble beams--a frail and pall

spered i

her little sister with a hatchet; then her husband fell; and then, before

ffering my hand; and she laid her thin a

each one of you is worth a regiment of men, your sorrows sacred to us all, strengthening our vows, steeling us to a fierce

k her he

e so lifeless that it sounded flat as the wo

-sill?" whispered Lois. "The only seat

the onl

last year's corn-husks. Shall we sit outside?

eft me silent; then, as the lantern's rays fell

ide. But first, I brin

e gift, Lois-a nothing-a mere jest of mine which we shall enjoy b

re still darkening her brow. Then I set my lantern on the puncheon fl

ened to rain when I heard the door creak; and, turning in my tracks, caught th

lantern and held

vest, her slender, rounded limbs moulded into soft knee-moccasins of fawn-ski

e lovely revelation. "What a miracle

fine to plea

d, but striving

e Night-Sun hang from your sacred girdle, making it flash like silvery showers of seawan. Salute, O Watcher at the Gates

nty head to view her finery once more, examining it grav

us, she lifted he

y-full--" She hesitated, then stretched forth her hand to me, sm

s raining, Euan! Your rifle-shirt is wet already, and yo

n on the puncheon floor, brushed the fine drops from thrums and hatchet-sheath, rubbed the

er; then, as though a common instinct stirred us to caution, we turned and look

reely here, Loi

he shadowy figure, then, loweri

e may. And I do not care to share my confidences with anyone-save you.

will not t

an I,

he loft above. She followed my gaze, hesitated, shot a keen and almost hostile gla

g the rustling husks. She dropped the trap-door silently, above the ladder, took the lantern from my h

intimate abode?" I

r; and a clean bed of husks; and if I am lonely, there be friendly little mice to b

in comfort!" I said w

ckly, then, shrug

remember their brief day of ease-none for those

e are yo

y, I t

that!" I

m so?" she as

in your eyes that now and then surprise

d-a knowledge that means sadness, Euan.

faint sound from below

whisp

d, her baby, and her little sister eight years old? The baby lay in its cradle smiling up at its murderers. Even the cruel Senecas turned aside, forbearing to harm it. But one of Walter Butler's painted Tories spies it and bawls o

wberry we caught and hung before we went to Westchester. I saw him hang with that

s I could still hear the wom

d, touching her trembling arm

face, looking up at me with

you, roaming these woods alone, is become a livi

r a while, her pale face pressed betw

? At the Spring Waiontha it almost

it has c

o

know it, l

and deathless friendship with a man-with you-mean that I am

id laughingly, yet thrilled

ng friendship from you. But if you give it when you really know me-t

I met the winning hones

r friendship-you can not give it rightly. Can you, Euan? You m

you is wonderful enough--" Suddenly the danger of the

there till her cheeks cooled. So she pondered for a

father. Presently I will tell you who he was." Her grey and troubled eyes gazed into space now, dream

think so?" I exc

Yndaia there, nea

But

have had them thirteen times in thirteen years. And every year-save the last two-the moccasins have been made a little larger, as though to fit my growing years.

I asked

hem for m

jour

straight through it, Euan, to the Weste

nge moccasins at your

not

suppose they come

atharin

ve your mothe

il two years ago I did not un

Lois? Is any written m

ed a strip of silver birch. Always the message writ

he long trail is safe. Then, in the Vale Yndaia, little Lois, se

him who died in the

who waits for yo

nge message!

nder her breath. "The trail

that trail m

last. And now the time is

y you have

unted camps, asking for information concerning Yndaia and the Regiment de la Reine. But of Yndaia I learned nothing, until the Sagamore i

s at Poundridge? You should

red men. And I had already quite

she comprehended the unasked qu

dread of men-how it has been with me since my foster parents fo

ou

or I supposed they were my parents-till two years ago. Now shall I tell you all,

w to my lips-so sweet and fearless

l me

gh they were the first sounds that I ever heard.... And once, lately, they were like to be the last.... And next I can remember playing with a painted mask of wood, and how the paint ta

g idly at the thrums al

But I do not really know how old I am,

not more-except the

Mistress Lydon taught us A-B-C and manners-and nothing else that I remember now. Then for a long while I was at home-which meant a hundred different lodgings-for we were ever moving on from place to place, where his employment

oster f

r mother, too, was

y not kin

me to the nearest school to be rid of me, I think. I have attended many schools, Euan-in Germantown, in Philadelphia, in Boston, in New York. I stayed not long in school at New Y

r foster fath

e, except his wife. When he spoke at all it was to her of Raphael, and of Titian, and par

heard

ng her leggin-fringe; then,

e place while there were portraits to paint-or tavern-signs, or wagons-anything to keep us clothed and fed. Then there came a day in Alba

ng. About that time my foster mother became ill. I remember that she lay on a couch all day, watching her husband paint. He and his art were all she cared for. Me she seldom seemed to see-scarcely noticed when she

to womanhood alone, and shy, and silent among my fellows; alone at home among the shadows of that old Dutch house; ever alone. A

t unawakened souls conjure for company; companioned by all creatures of the mind, from saint to devil. Ai-me! Fo

light breath, s

chool. So dreadfully was he broken that for months he lay abed never speaking, scarcely eat

ooded there in silence, day after day, until our creditors would endure no longer, and the bailiff menaced him. Confused and frightened

avishing the land; there was no work for him to do. We starved slowly south

ut it was Continental Line-a gaunt, fierce, powder-blackened company, disciplined with iron. And presently a dreadful thing befell us. For one morning before sunrise, as I stood scouring the milk-pans by the flare of a tallow-dip, came to me a y

dreadful plight. All the defence he ever made, they say was that he had tired of dirty camps and foolish drums, and wished to paint again. Euan, it was terrible. He

is,' he said, smiling, 'there is a bright company aloft, and watching me. Raphael and Titian are of them. And West will come some day.' And, 'God!' he murmured, wonderingly, 'What fellowshi

e, there, child! There's nothing to it-no, not anything to weep for. In less than half an hour

her said: 'He's come to talk to me of Christ and Raphael. It is pleasant to hear his kind assurance that the

ll you that I am not your father.... We found you at our door in Caughnwagha, strapped to a Seneca cradle-board. Nor had you any name. We did not seek you, but, having you so, bowed to God's will and suffered you to remain with us. We strove to do our duty by you--' His vague gaze wandered toward the tent door

ing sun blinded my tear-drowned eyes, where I was kneeling in a field under a tall tree.... I heard the dead-march rolling from the drums, and saw them passing, black against the sunrise.... Th

cross her brow, clearing

out Briskly to the jolly drums and fifes.... I stood by the grave while the detail filled

e might be found the Regiment de la Reine. Wherever was a camp of soldiers, there I loitered, asking the same question, day after day, month after month. I asked of Indians-our Hudson

der hand slowly across he

day, night after night, endless and terrible." She flushed, but continued calmly: "I had nigh sold myself to some young officer-some gay and heedless boy-a dozen times that winter-for a bit of bread-and so I might lie warm.... The army starved at Valley Forge.... God knows where and how I lived and famished through all that bitter blackness.... An

uld not utter

d, gazing

. But at times it seems to be still in my bones-deep bitten to the very

where she sat, her fingers interlaced,

en. But it was solitude that nigh undid me. T

gust swishing across the eaves. Beyond the outer circle

oi

"All that is ended no

e no re

g. How I first came by it I do not know. But Guy Johnson placed it there for me, saying that it was mine by right. Now, today, I have w

e exclaime

"Do you listen now to me, for I mean to

t you have done t

les of no value-nothing more-stockings, and shifts

s!" she said, an angry

ack even of handkerch

nd stockings are none of you

e them

your privilege

-wh

r; and left me checked. She added: "What you offer is impertinen

lash of her rebuff-but presently I felt her hand steal over mine and tighten

ed me to your fancy. You have had scant payment in exchange-only a poor girl's gratitude. What have I left t

ake, Lois. What they possess

nly my thanks-and--" she smiled tremulously, "--a wild rose-bud. A

ked of you!" I

the more inclined to

en offer me the privilege of giving. I

le the soft colour waned

aid in a voice

e levies, has a noble one. Yours is its mate. And into yours will fit your gowns and shoon, patches and powder, and the hundred articles which every woman needs by day and night. Also I've named you to Mr. Hake, so that, first writing fo

ed slightly,

you will have means to properly maintain you; and I shall send you by batteau to Mr. Hake, who will find lodging suitable for you-and be yo

oated pigeon of the woo

d never had I dreamed that any maid could be so full o' tears, when by all

made strange and cold and awkward by her tears. The warm flush of self-a

ntured, liftin

aid I ung

? Else I use my scan

heart to see her now surrender at discretion, with her grey eyes smiling at me throu

l? And now he sits there laughing, and convinced that when the army marches I

go to Catharines-

, asking the way. Do you suppose I have endure

omise you that if your mother be truly there among those unhappy prisoners she shall be brought back safely from the Vale Yndaia. I will tell Major Parr of t

in a qu

y why-I asked you here tonight. Find me some

d to hell?" I asked impatientl

e that. And guide me, too

ha

o years of camps blunt

you wish to go to Catharines-to

ing, then, in a

e.... And first I must show you what my

little

bosom, unlaced the thong, unr

. "This I have never had interpret

ght I read it, while she lo

AD

-yen-engh

th

a white dog lying de

side

erigh-w

-ten-yon

dawen-ken-w

tline the foot and cl

yegh-nyasa-kenra-dake,

e sy

ked silence. Then I asked her if she suspected

nd look askance at me, and tell me nothing; interpreters laugh

," I

an int

es

ll

aning which had been rendered plainer

a priesthood," I muttered. "Here is a fou

I found courage to re

ening to me, Lois. That which has befallen you we place it here (or, 'we draw it here'-i. e., the severed foot and claws of a

all signify?" she

and menacing horror of the symbols, int

Amochol-and his Erie sorcerers!

n!" she faltered. "Wa

e drawing of th

! It was because your 'neck' was 'white'! Look again! Here is the symbol of the Cat-People-the Eries-the acolytes of Amochol-here! This spread lynx-pad with ev

y, pausing to look at her with a new a

t shown me a

there were other things in the packet with this

uckle," she said, offering

here were still traces of F

t somewhere. Oh! Now I remember. It was a very celebrated French regiment-cut all to p

ent, then, tot

again with new men and new officers, and

s men cut it to pieces-the Re

rovincials, left nothing of

ew from the deerhide packet a miniature on ivory, cracked ac

might be, was this girl's father; and nobody who had

t her eyes had never left my face and must

like her own. And at first I saw nothing else. Then, as the glass-backed locket glanced in the lantern-light, I

r a son co

ed up

s since-hearing Guy Johnson cursing some such man. Then in an instant all came back to me; and she seem

tinent to France. Captain Joncaire was feared, detested, but respected by Sir William Johnson because he held all Canada and the Hurons and Algonquins in the hollow

r. But she married another man-one Louis de Contrecoeur--" I hesitated, glanced

ntrecoeur. The names sc

in a low, tense voice, and lai

title was written in faded ink: "Le Capitaine Vicomte Louis Jean de Contrecoeur du Regiment de la Reine." And under that,

e writing that the birch bark

ther was born Mademoiselle Joncair

ngering the stained and faded

quarters of the Regiment de la

ad an

omte Louis Jean de Contrecoeur fell at Lake George in '55-

he reaction came, taking me by th

"If de Contrecoeur died unma

y wrote. If my father married h

s-whichever is the tru

s, giving me a frightened look; and che

o catch the first spark that flies? A brand ever smould

ve I love

uan, are

breathing fas

if it be not love!

, cool current of contempt. "Why, it is what always urges men to speak, I fancy-t

my friendship?" I

be of this

not have me

her yet except emotions. Friendships have their deeps and shallows, but are deathless only while they endure. Love hath no shallows, Euan, and endures often when friendship dies.... I speak, having no knowledge. But I believe it. And, believing nobly of true love-in ignor

s si

he lantern, laid o

whispered,

t the shadowy heap, asleep perhaps, on the corner settle, then walked to t

ill she

l you com

t me?" I sa

hand and pressed it, crushing it between both of hers;

h-headlong, headstrong, tender, and generous, petty and childish, grave and kind-the sacred and wondrous being, in point of fact, known to the world as man

at her skirt's edge, and m

ain to visit me tomorrow, while I am mend

sadly. "How can

n to lau

ure it if you're solemn

boiling, under the high stars. And every star o' them, I th

ed when an Oneida runner had it and was driving his canoe down the Mohawk River at a speed that promi

of Amochol and of Catharines-town; and he listened while

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