CHAPTER XVI. "A contract and eternal bond of love, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings; Shakspeare. THE situation in which Colonel Grahame found himself placed, with regard to Mr. Spencer and his daughter, seemed to throw them under his immediate protection, and to claim from him as large a portion of his time and attention as he could possibly bestow. After his return from Saratoga, he felt the claim doubly strong, in consequence of the rapidly declining health of Mr. Spencer, and the extreme affliction of Marion; and solicitous to alleviate their griefs, he spent much of that time which he would gladly have devoted to the society of Catherine Courtland, in the secluded dwelling of the melancholy fugitives. Mr. Spencer, sensible that his present misfortunes had arisen from his own injustice and imprudence, felt an unconquerable reluctance to speak of the occurrences of his past life; and even permitted the generous Grahame to remain ignorant of his real name, and of every incident of his private history, except such as had fallen under the Colonel's immediate knowledge. He seldom, indeed, spoke of any thing which had passed, or was now passing in the world, and showed so strong a disinclination to receive any intelligence of the kind, that Grahame at length ceased to mention even the public events of the day. He had once, however, alluded to Major Courtland's family, and expressed his opinion that Marion, without the slightest hazard, might be permitted to enjoy their society. But Mr. Spencer decidedly rejected the proposal, and entreated Grahame never to mention it in the presence of Marion, as he could not consent to her forming any acquaintauce in her present situation; and the knowledge of an agreeable family in the neighbourhood, might render her more unhappy in her retirement; he also begged that their names might never be repeated to any individual in existence. Grahame, unreasonable as he thought these requisitions, at least the former, could not refuse to gratify an unfortunate man, who, to all human appearance, had but a short space to live; and he not only gave his own promise, but also forbade the Indians, on pain of his displeasure, to repeat any thing which occurred; or to speak of the persons with whom they lived; or to let the place of their residence become known. These injunctions they promised to obey, though Minoya came near forgetting them, when, delighted with Miss Courtland's flageolet, she played part of a tune which Marion had taught her, and spoke of "the lily," to the extreme chagrin of Grahame. Painful as he felt it to become an object of suspicion and distrust to those whom he regarded with friendship and esteem, yet with strict fidelity he preserved inviolate the secrecy which Mr. Spencer had enjoined upon him. Circumstances were daily occurring to awaken doubt and conjecture;-the accident of meeting O'Carroll, when one night, in returning from the cottage, he stopped to give Ŏhmeina some instructions; the abruptness with which he was once called away in consequence of the sudden and extreme illness of Mr. Spencer; the discovery of the chain which Minoya had twined around the dog's neck, together with a thousand other incidents which were perpetually occurring, to deepen an appearance of mystery, not to be explained without betraying the retreat and history of the unfortunate man, whose life and safety were in his keeping. Grahame saw with inexpressible pleasure, that the noble-minded Catherine refused to participate in the suspicions which had banished him from the confidence of others. The admiration with which, on his first acquaintance, he had regarded her, soon deepened into a fervent and lasting affection, which he would long since have avowed, but for the cruel circumstances which subjected him to suspicion, and drew upon him the cold and altered regards of her father. Grahame felt that he would rather renounce her love than seek it in such a situation; and though he did not give utterance to his sentiments, it was impossible to control the expression of a countenance whose silent eloquence could not be misunderstood. The conference which took place at the cottage between Marion and Captain O'Carroll, we have already repeated. It was scarcely terminated when Mr. Spencer awoke, and inquired for his daughter. Marion, dreading the effect which her lover's unexpected appearance might produce upon her father's mind, besought him to depart; and though desirous of an interview, he could refuse her nothing; and receiving a promise that he should be summoned when she had prepared her father to see him, he took a tender and reluctant leave; and with visions of love and happiness dancing before his eyes, pursued his way home. It was past the hour of noon when he reached it; and he found Talbot and Amelia alone in the parlor; from the former of whom he learned with surprise the singular and tragical events of the morning. The possibility of its being the infamous Dalkeith, who had so relentlessly haunted and tormented him, had never once intruded itself into his mind; but the resentment, which under other circumstances he would have felt against him, was changed, by the knowledge of his miserable fate, into compassion. O'Carroll wished to set out instantly for the farm-house, to which Talbot, who had inquired the way of William, directed him; but he learned that Grahame was expected every moment at Major Courtland's; and he waited till he could no longer restrain his impatience, when, as the Colonel did not come, O'Carroll set out for the farm-house, which he entered a few minutes before Colonel Grahame's arrival at it. The scene which passed there has been related. When Grahame and O'Carroll quitted the house, the confessions of Dalkeith and other incidents of the day, yielded them abundant topics of discourse; and after an hour passed in explanations, apologies, and concessions, they parted mutually satisfied with each other, and happy in their respective prospects. According to an agreement of the preceding evening, Grahame and O'Carroll met early at the farm-house; but finding the unhappy man no more, they repaired together to the cottage of Mr. Spencer. When they entered, Minoya was sitting alone in the outer apartment, plaiting willow baskets, and singing in a low and, as usual, monotonous tone. In answer to Grahame's inquiries respecting Mr. Spencer, she said with a sorrowful look that he was very bad, and Marion had watched with him all night. O'Carroll was agitated by the thought of his Marion's toil and affliction, and Grahame begging him to compose himself and remain for a short time with Minoya, left him and entered the sick man's apartment. He found him much changed since the preceding day; but his countenance, though deathly, was placid and serene; and as he extended his hand towards Grahame, he said with a smile, "You find me changed my kind friend, but not sadly so. The spirit I think will soon leave her prison-house, and I have been seeking to reconcile my Marion to its departure. Should she not rejoice that my weary pilgrimage is almost ended; and that through the mediation of the Redeemer, to the foot of whose cross you have led me, I have hope of soon entering a region of unclouded joy ?" "Marion rejoices as we all do," said Grahame, affectionately taking the hand of the weeping girl, "in the brightness of that faith and hope, which shed the peace and serenity of heaven over the sadness of this trying hour. But religion, though she sooths our sorrows, does not forbid their indulgence, and the best disciplined heart must bleed with anguish, when about to be severed from the dear and cherished objects of its love."/ "Severed for a short time only," said Mr. Spencer, "to be re-united in that world where the heart shall no more be pained with the agony of separation. So weep not immoderately, my child; a short time only and we shall again meet where tears and farewells are unknown." Marion was so much affected that Grahame feared she would faint; and obeying a signal from her father, he led her gently from the room and consigned her to the care of O'Carroll, who seemed transported with happiness when he beheld her. But she was so overwhelmed with the thought of her father's approaching dissolution that she had no room for joy in her heart; and though she strove to smile upon her impassioned lover it was through tears, and with a sadness which told how much the effort cost her. When Grahame returned to Mr. Spencer, he found him somewhat disturbed, though he became composed when the Colonel informed him she was better, and would soon return to him. After a pause of some minutes during which, Mr. Spencer seemed striving to collect himself, he said with effort, "Colonel Grahame I have still somewhat to say, which from a reluctance to forfeit any portion of that esteem with which you have honored me, I have delayed to communicate till now. But Heaven, I trust, has pardoned the errors of parental affection, and you are too just, and too generous not to forgive them also." "Do not pain yourself by an exertion to which your strength is inadequate," said Grahame; "nor recall the images of the past to disturb the tranquillity of the present moment, I am already informed of every thing, Marion tells me that you know of her interview with Captain O'Carroll; and the accident which occasioned their re-union led to other occurrences, which have developed not only your history but also the intrigues of that infamous man, who has been the cause of all your misfortunes." |