“Jennet,” said Mrs Fletcher, “thy tongue far outruns thy discretion. Restrain thy foolish thoughts, and bid Magawisca come to me.”
Jennet sullenly obeyed, and soon after Magawisca entered. Mrs Fletcher was struck with her changed aspect. She turned away, as one conscious of possessing a secret, and fearful that the eye, the herald of the soul, will speak unbidden. Her air was troubled and anxious, and instead of her usual light and lofty step, she moved timidly and dejectedly.
“Come to me, Magawisca,” said Mrs Fletcher, “and deal truly by me, as I have ever dealt by thee.”
She obeyed, and as she stood by Mrs Fletcher the poor girl’s tears dropped on her benefactor’s lap. “Thou hast been more than true,” she said, “thou hast been kind to me as the mother-bird that shelters the wanderer in her nest.”
“Then, Magawisca, if it concerneth me to know it, thou wilt explain the meaning of this roll which Nelema dropped at my feet.”
The girl started and became very pale – to an observing eye, the changes of the olive skin are as apparent as those of a fairer complexion. She took the roll from Mrs Fletcher and shut her eyes fast. Her bosom heaved convulsively; but after a short struggle with conflicting feelings, she said, deliberately, in a low voice – “That which I may speak without bringing down on me the curse of my father’s race, I will speak. This,” she added, unfolding the snake’s skin, “this betokeneth the unseen and silent approach of an enemy. This, you know,” and she held up the rattle, “is the warning voice that speaketh of danger near. And this,” she concluded, taking the arrow in her trembling hand, “this is the symbol of death.”
“And why, Magawisca, are these fearful tokens given to me? Dost thou know, girl, aught of a threatening enemy – of an ambushed foe?”
“I have said all that I may say,” she replied.
Mrs Fletcher questioned further, but could obtain no satisfaction. Magawisca’s lips were sealed; and it was certain that if her resolution did not yield to the entreaties of her own heart, it would resist every other influence.
Mrs Fletcher summoned Everell, and bade him urge Magawisca to disclose whatever Nelema had communicated. He did so, but sportively, for, he said, “the old woman was cracked, and Magawisca’s head was turned. If there were indeed danger,” he continued, “and Magawisca was apprised of it, think you, mother, she would permit us to remain in ignorance?” He turned an appealing glance to Magawisca, but her face was averted. Without suspecting this was intentional, he continued, “you ought to do penance, Magawisca, for the alarm you have given mother. You and I will act as her patrol tonight.”
Magawisca assented, and appeared relieved by the proposition, though her gloom was not lightened by Everell’s gaiety. Mrs Fletcher did not, of course, acquiesce in this arrangement, but she deemed it prudent to communicate her apprehensions to her trusty Digby. After a short consultation, it was agreed that Digby should remain on guard during the night, and that the two other menservants should have their muskets in order, and be ready at a moment’s warning. Such precautions were not infrequent, and caused no unusual excitement in the household. Mrs Fletcher had it, as she expressed herself, ‘borne in upon her mind, after the evening exercise, to make some remarks upon the uncertainty of life.’ She then dismissed the family to their several apartments, and herself retired to indite the epistle given above.
Everell observed Magawisca closely through the evening, and he was convinced, from the abstraction of her manner and from the efforts she made, (which were now apparent to him) to maintain a calm demeanor, that there was more ground for his mother’s apprehensions than he, at first, supposed. He determined to be the companion of Digby’s watch, and standing high in that good fellow’s confidence, he made a private arrangement with him, which he easily effected without his mother’s knowledge, for his youthful zeal did not render him regardless of the impropriety of heightening her fears.
CHAPTER 4
“It would have been happy if they had converted some before they had killed any.”
Robinson
The house at Bethel had, both in front and in rear, a portico, or, as it was more humbly, and therefore more appropriately named, a shed; that in the rear, was a sort of adjunct to the kitchen, and one end of it was enclosed for the purpose of a bed-room, and occupied by Magawisca. Everell found Digby sitting at the other extremity of this portico; his position was prudently chosen. The moon was high, and the heavens clear, and there concealed and sheltered by the shadow of the roof, he could, without being seen, command the whole extent of cleared ground that bordered on the forest, whence the foe would come, if he came at all.
Everell, like a good knight, had carefully inspected his arms and just taken his position beside Digby, when they heard Magawisca’s window cautiously opened, and saw her spring through it. Everell would have spoken to her, but Digby made a signal of silence, and she, without observing them, hastened with a quick and light step towards the wood, and entered it, taking the path that led to Nelema’s hut.
“Confound her!” exclaimed Digby; “she is in a plot with the old woman.”
“No – no. On my life she is not, Digby.”
“Some mischief – some mischief,” said Digby, shaking his head. “They are a treacherous race. Let’s follow her. No, we had best keep clear of the wood. Do you call after her; she will hearken to you.”
Everell hesitated. “Speak quickly, Mr Everell,” urged Digby; “she will be beyond the reach of your voice. It is no light matter that could take her to Nelema’s hut at this time of the night.”
“She has good reason for going, Digby. I am sure of it; and I will not call her back.”
“Reason,” muttered Digby; “reason is but a jack-o’-lantern light in most people’s minds. You trust her too far, Mr Everell; but there, she is returning! See how she looks all around her, like a frightened bird that hears an enemy in every rustling leaf. Stand close – observe her – see, she lays her ear to the earth – it is their crafty way of listening – there, she is gone again!” he exclaimed, as Magawisca darted away into the wood. “It is past doubt she holds communication with some one. God send us a safe deliverance. I had rather meet a legion of Frenchmen than a company of these savages. They are a kind of beast we don’t comprehend – out of the range of God’s creatures – neither angel, man, nor yet quite devil. I would have sent to the fort for a guard tonight, but I liked not being driven hither and yon by that old hag’s tokens; nor yet quite to take counsel from your good mother’s fears, she being but a woman.”
“I think you have caught the fear, Digby, without taking it’s counsel,” said Everell, “which does little credit to your wisdom; the