Malaeska: The Indian Wife of the White Hunter

ll to the dee

s gold

brown and a

each fo

of the India

ged her l

young laugh ro

ld birds o'

n each other's face, a rifle-shot cut sharply from the old man's station. They both started to their feet, and Martha clung shrieking to her lover. Jones forced her back to the settle-and, snatching his rifle, sprang to the door. There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and with it was mingled the voice of old Fellows, and the sweeter and more imperfect tones of a female, with the sobbing breath of a ch

ll you, nor the little pappoose, neither; so you needn't shake so. Come along! There's Martha

old man entered the hut, pushing the wr

tle varmint, no how. She's as harmless as a garter-snake. Come, see if you can find out what she wants of you. She

nto whose presence she had been dragged she withdrew fro

laeska only wants the papers," she pleaded, p

is the night you got so angry. I could not tell you why we were talking so much together; but I knew all the time that he had an Indian wife-it seemed as if he had a forewarning of his death, and must tell some one. The last time I

nd a path down the big river. Give her the papers th

r kindly, "have the Indians left our neigh

ied, the smoke of his wigwam went out; and his peopl

thos in the poor girl's speech, that a

you shall-and that's the end on't. I'll make a farmer of the little pappoose. I'll bet a beaver-skin that he'll larn to gee and h

settler's proposition; the tone and manner were

find the white man's God. Give her the papers, and she will go. Her heart will be full when she thinks

se to the dead-we ought not

the letter, which had been intrusted to her care, from beneath the pillow. The Indian took it between he

Farewell!" she turned tow

ttan-take something to eat, or you will star

ite maiden. A piece of bread for the boy-he has cried to his mother many tim

k eyes were turned up to hers as he drank. When the cup was withdrawn, the boy breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction, and let his head fall sleepily on his mother's shoulder; her large eyes seemed full of moonlight, and a gleam of pleasure shot athwart her sad features; she unbound a bracelet of wampum from her arm and placed it in Martha's hand. The next instant she wa

she should join him. The perpetual change of scenery, the sunshine playing with the foliage, and the dark, heavy masses of shadow, flung from the forests and rocks on either hand, were continually exciting her untamed imagination to comparison with the heaven of her wild fancy. It seemed, at times, as if she had but to close her eyes and open them again to be in the presence of her lost one. There was something heavenly in the solemn, perpetual flow of the r

e a fire and prepare her game in some shady nook by the river side, while the canoe swung at its mooring, and her child played on the fresh grass, shouting a

to forgetfulness of her affliction. She was young and healthy, and everything about her was so lovely, so grand and changing, that her heart expanded to the sunshine like a flower which has been bowed down, but not crushed beneath the force of a storm. Part of each day she spent in a wild, dreamy state of imagination. Her mind was lulled to sweet musings by the gentle sounds that hovered in the air from morning till evening; and through the long night, when all was hushed save the deep flow of the river. Birds came out with their cheerful voices at dawn, and at midday she floated in the cool shadow of the hills, or sh

harge. She took the letter from her bosom; the tears started to her eyes, and she kissed it with a regretful sorrow, as if a friend were about to be rendered up from her affections forever. She took the child to her heart, and held him there till its throbbings grew audible, and the strength of her misgivings could not be restrained. After a time she became more calm. She lifted the child from her bosom, laved his hands and face in th

nd his bright, black eyes were brim-full of childish wonder. One little arm was flung around his young mother's neck, and its fellow rested on the feathered arrow-shafts which crowded the quiver slung against her left shoulder. The timid, anxious look of the mother, was in strong contrast with the eager gaze of the boy. She had caught much of the delicacy and refinement of civilized life from her husband, and her manner became startled and fawn-like beneath the rude gaze of the passers-by. The modest blood burned in her cheek, and the sweet, broken English trembled on her lips, when several persons, to whom she showed the letter passed by without

uncommon luxury, covered a greater portion of the floor, and the furniture was rich in its material and ponderous with heavy carved work. A tall, and rather hard-featured man sat in an arm-chair by one of the narrow windows, reading a file of papers which had just arrived in the last merchant-ship from London. A little distance from him, a slight and very thin la

d in his severe gaze as he fixed it on her through his spectacles. The Indian felt chilled and repulsed; her heart was full, and she turned with a look of touching appeal to the lady. That face was one to which a child would have fled for comfort; it was tranquil

is his writing," she added, with a forced smile. "He could not have sent word himself, were he-ill."

that his face grew pale, that his high, narrow forehead contracted, and that the stern mouth became still more rigid in its expression. She knew that some evil had befallen her son-her only son, and she gr

my son?" Her voice was low and

his unsteady grasp, his eyes were fixed on his trembling wife with a look that chilled her to

murdered by the savages-w

ack, and the fire of anxie

of the first-born of our youth-cut off in his pro

almost fiercely; "there is a t

mother, too." There was a faint, red spot then upon that mild woman's face, and her mouth curved proudly

They have enticed him into their savage haunts, and murdered him

k slowly back to a corner of the room, where she crouched, like a frightened hare, looking

his hands and remained motionless, while the sobs of his wife, as

wn deep feelings taught her how to reach those of anothe

n the shadows fell upon his soul, he said that his mother's heart would grow soft to the poor Indian woman who had slept in his bosom while she was

our hearts. Oh, John, do you remember his smile?-how his cheek would dimple when we kissed it! Look upon this poor, fatherless creature; they are all here again; th

as touched. His bosom heaved, and tears gushed through his rigid fingers. He felt a little form draw close to his knee, and a tiny, soft hand strive with its feebl

smile broke through them, and the little fellow lifted both his arms and clasped them over the bowed neck of his grandfather. There was a m

the woman go back to her t

hands, and turned with an air of wild

ocking-bird. You would not send the poor Indian back to the woods without her child. She has come to you from the forest, that she may learn the path to the white man's h

is grandfather's arms, and stood like a lioness guarding her young, her lips writhing and her black eyes

go with you," said the gentle Mrs. Danforth. "Do not

s feet, drew back, and stood with her eyes cast down, and her hands clasped deprecatin

her husband's violence. "The thoughts of a separation drives her wild, poor thing. He loved her;-why should we send her b

her; and it was given out that young Danforth had married in one of the new settlements-that the young couple had fallen victims to the savages, and that their infant son had been rescued by an Indian girl, who brought him to his grandfath