"Art thou coming to our lodge, dear Blossom?" asked Edith, and then added, "Where is thy father?"
"We both come," answered the girl, in fluent English, with no more of the Indian accent than served to give a peculiar softness to her tones. "I wait the Black Eagle here since dawn of day. He has gone towards the morning, with our father the White Heron; for we heard of Hurons by the side of Corlear, and some thought the hatchet would be unburied; so he journeyed to hear more from our friends by the Horicon, and bade me stay and tell you and our brother Walter to forbear that road if I saw you turn your eyes towards the east wind. He and the White Heron will be by your father's council-fire with the first star."
A good deal of this speech was unintelligible to Lord H----, who had now approached, and on whom Blossom's eyes were turned with a sort of timid and inquiring look. But Walter hastened to interpret, saying--
"She means that her father and the missionary, Mr. Gore, have heard that there are hostile Indians on the shores of Lake Champlain, and have gone down towards Lake George to inquire; for Black Eagle--that is her father--is much our friend, and he always fancies that my father has chosen a dangerous situation here just at the verge of the territory of the Five Nations, or their Long House, as they call it."
"Well, come to the lodge with us, dear Blossom," said Edith, while her brother was giving this explanation; "thou knowest my father loves thee well, and will be glad to have the Blossom with us. Here, too, is an English chief, dwelling with us, who knows not what sweet blossoms grow on Indian trees."
But the girl shook her head, saying--
"Nay, I must do the father's will. It was with much praying that he let me come hither with him; and he bade me stay here from the white rock to the stream. So I must obey."
"But it may be dangerous," replied Edith, "if there be Hurons so near; and it is sadly solitary, dear sister."
"Then stay with me for a while," said the girl, who could not affect to deny that her lonely watch was somewhat gloomy.
"I will stay with her, and protect her," cried Walter eagerly; "for, dearest Blossom, should there be danger, my sister must fly to the lodge."
"Yes, stay with her, Walter. Oh, yes, stay with her," ejaculated the unconscious Edith. And so it was settled, for Otaitsa made no opposition, though, with a cheek in which something glowed warmly through the brown, and with a lip that curled gently with a meaning smile, she said--
"Perhaps my brother Walter would be elsewhere? He may find a long watch wearisome on the hill and in the wood."
Well was it that others were present, or the lips that spoke would have paid for their insincerity. But perhaps the Blossom would not have so spoken had they been alone; for woman feels a fear of playfulness, and knows that it needs a safeguard; while deep passion and pure tenderness seem to have a holy safeguard in themselves, and often in their very weakness find strength.
"Let us stay awhile ourselves," said Lord H----, seating himself on the grass, and gazing forth with a look of interest over the prospect: "methinks this is a place where one may well dream away an hour, without the busiest mind reproaching itself for inactivity."
There was no ceremony certainly in his manner, and yet no assumption. Had there been older persons present, women nearer his own age, perhaps the formal decorums of the time might have put upon him a more ceremonious bearing: he might have asked their wishes--waited till they were seated--bowed, and assisted them to a commodious spot. But Edith was so young, that a feeling of her being almost a child was unconsciously present in his mind--a very dangerous feeling, inasmuch as it put him wholly off his guard; and, acting as plain nature taught, he cast himself down there to enjoy an hour of pleasant idleness, in a beautiful scene, with one too lovely, too deep-toned in mind--ay, too mature in heart and in body--to be so treated with impunity.
That hour passed by, and another came and went, while into his thoughts and into his breast's inmost caves were stealing strange new sensations. A dreamy charm was over him, a golden spell around him, more powerful than Circe ever threw, or the Siren ever sung. Oh, the Lotus!--he was eating the Lotus, that sweet fruit, the magic taste of which could never be forgotten--which was destined thenceforth and for ever to draw him back, with irresistible power, to the spot where it grew.
Surely that nectareous fruit, which transformed the whole spirit into desire for itself, was but an image of love, pure and bright, growing wild upon the bank of the sacred river. And the first taste, too, gave no warning of its power. Thus he was all unconscious of what was coming over him, but yielded himself calmly to the enjoyment of the moment, and imagined that in the next he could be free again in every thought.
The reader may ask--"Was he thus early in love? Had the impassioned haste of Italian love--the love of Romeo and Juliet--flown across the wide Atlantic?"
No! I answer, no. But he was yielding himself to thoughts and feelings, scenes, circumstances, and companionships, which were sure to light it up in his heart--yielding without resistance. He was tasting the Lotus-fruit; and its effects were inevitable.
For two hours the four companions sat there on the hill-side, beneath the tall shady trees, with the wind breathing softly upon them--the lake glittering before their eyes--the murmur of the waterfall sending music through the air. But to the young Englishman these were but accessories. The fair face of Edith was before his eyes, the melody of her voice in his ear.
At length, however, they rose to go, promising to send one of the slaves from the house with food for Walter and Otaitsa at the hour of noon; and Lord H---- and his fair companion took their way back towards the house.
The distance was not very far, but they were somewhat long upon the way. They walked slowly back, and by a different path from that by which they went; and often they stopped to admire some pleasant scene; often Lord H---- had to assist his fair companion over some rock, and her soft hand rested in his. He gathered flowers for her--the fringed gentia and other late blossoms; they paused to examine them closely, and comment on their loveliness. Once he made her sit down beside him on a bank, and tell the names of all the different trees; and from trees his conversation went on into strange, dreamy, indefinite talk of human things and human hearts.
Thus noon was not far distant when they reached the house; and both Edith and her companion were very thoughtful.
CHAPTER VIII.
Edith was very thoughtful through the rest of the day. Was it of herself she thought? Was it of him who had been her companion through the greater part of the morning? Hardly at all.
Hast thou not heard, reader, in eastern fable, of springs of deep, clear water, covered from the eye of passing strangers by a sealed stone; and how, when he who has the talismanic secret approaches and says the words of power, or makes the sign, the sealed fountain opens its cool treasure, and the bright stream wells forth? Such is woman's love.
No word had been spoken, no sign had been given; no intimation to make the seal on the fountain indicate that the master of its destiny was near. Edith had had a pleasant ramble with one such as she seldom saw--and that was all. That he was different from the common multitude--higher, brighter, nobler in his thoughts--she had gathered from their short acquaintance; and so far she might be led to think of him somewhat more than she thought of other men. But her meditations had another object; her mind was attracted strongly in another direction.
It is strange how clearly and how willingly women look into the hearts of others--how