3. III.
HOW CAPTAIN WAGNER BECAME UNEASY IN HIS SLEEP.
IN five minutes the Borderer was snoring with an
unction which brought a smile to the faces of his
companions. He had closed his eyes with the
words, “Take care, my dear friends, I hear very
well in my sleep—therefore don't speak ill of me;” but this
seemed quite an idle boast. The Captain presented the appearance
of a frontier Goliath, worn out by fatigue, or somniferous
from the extent of his last meal.
“Come, Bertha,” said Mr. Argal, rising, “we must set
out very early, and it would be advisable to retire, I think.
I see old John at the door waiting for us.”
“Yes, sir—when you're ready, sir—everything right, sir,'
came respectfully from the door, which opened on a flight
of stairs, “right hand for the gentlemen—the other room is
ready for Miss Argal.”
“Please send the maid to show me the way,” said the
young lady, with a smile, “good-night, father, I will follow
in a moment.”
The old gentleman nodded, and kissing her on the forehead,
went out, followed by George.
Falconbridge rose.
“Stay and entertain me for a moment,” she said, smiling
“until my maid comes.”
He sat down quickly: so quickly that any one would have
understood from the movement, how gladly he complied
with the request.
The door closed upon Mr. Argal and George. Then
commenced a conversation, at first upon indifferent subjects
in the ordinary key, but gradually becoming more confidential,
if the word may be used, and carried on in lower tones.
To a curious observer, the spectacle would have possessed
a profound and absorbing interest—for it was that of a woman
of dazzling beauty, and immense finesse, marshalling all
her dangerous powers against the heart of a frank and
truthful gentleman, into whose breast the shadow of suspicion
never had for a moment entered. The glances which
she cast upon him were dazzling, electric; he felt his cheeks
flush, and his pulses throb.
“Then you do not think me unmaidenly?” came in a low
murmur from the crimson lips.
“Because you express your satisfaction at my coming?”
said Falconbridge; “how can you ask such a question?”
“I feared you might; I am so unfortunate, in never concealing
what I feel. Frankly, then, I hope you will come
and see me—we are almost buried in the woods.”
“I surely shall. I am too happy to be able to contribute
to your amusement.”
“No, do not say my amusement”——
She stopped, blushing deeply.
“Do not look at me,” she murmured, turning away, “I
am so foolish”——
“Your room is ready, miss,” said the maid, opening the
door.
“Wait for me in the chamber,” was Miss Argal's reply.
“I will come up in a moment. It is very early, is it not?”
she added, turning with a languishing smile to Falconbridge,
as the maid disappeared.
“Very,” he replied, “and if you'll not regard me as presumptuous,
I will say that I have little desire to exchange
your society for my own thoughts or dreams.”
“Of what do you dream?” she said, smiling archly, and
throwing at him one of those fascinating glances which
possessed such a singular attraction.
“Oh! of many things. Of my lowland home—of the
strange land to which I go, for I have come to see about
some property in the wilderness which I am entitled to, by
a grant from Lord Fairfax.”
“Are your dreams never filled with brighter images?”
“With brighter images? Ah! you mean with the forms
of ladies fair!” he laughed; “no, no, I have never loved.”
“Then your heart is cold?”
“Oh, no! I think 'tis a warm one.”
The young lady sighed deeply.
“Why do you sigh so?” he asked.
She played with the ribbon around her waist, and looked
in silence at the floor.
“Only my foolish thoughts,” she murmured; “I thought
—what a treasure it would be to me—a heart that had
never loved”——
As she spoke she suffered the hand which played with the
ribbon to fall beside her. The hand of Falconbridge was
hanging down, and the two came in collision. Mastered by
a sudden and wild impulse, and forgetting every rule of
etiquette, he imprisoned the snowy hand in his own, and
raised it to his lips. The young lady blushed, but did not
withdraw it. For an instant the eyes of the two persons
met and exchanged a long, and absorbing look:—the young
man's were filled with an ardent admiration, the young
lady's with a languishing sweetness.
“I must go now,” she murmured, slowly withdrawing her
hand. “Good-night!”
And with a last look, she opened the door just as the
maid placed her hand on the knob. Had the young lady
heard her step descending the stairs?
Falconbridge sat down, and leaning his head upon his
hand, gazed into the dying fire. Nothing disturbed the
silence but the heavy breathing of the soldier, who, stretched
in his great leathern chair, had never once moved during
the colloquy.
“Strange!” murmured Falconbridge; “strange young girl!
I scarcely fathom her character, or understand her singular
demeanor. They tell me that I have sound intelligence,
that I read men—but, pshaw! I am quite at sea with this
young girl. What a dazzling, superb beauty! Well, well—
this is folly!”
And he gazed again in silence into the fire. For more
than half an hour he remained thus motionless—reflecting.
Then turning his head, with a deep sigh, and a wistful smile
he gazed at the form of the sleeping giant in the leathern
chair.
“A brave man, and with a warm, strong heart under all
that roughness, I see plainly!” he murmured. “How great
a contrast to this beautiful young creature, does he present!
A strange world—yes, very strange—strangest of all that I
am here!”
And he leaned back in his chair, and smiled. The dying
fire-light lit up his youthful face, rich costume, and brilliant
eyes, making him resemble some picture of the Middle Age.
He remained thus, leaning back for a few moments, and
then rose.
“Well, well,” he said, “all this will have its course
—but I soon pass—enough for one day.”
And saluting the sleeping soldier with the smiling words,
“Happy dreams, companion!” he left the room, and retired
to his chamber.
No sooner had the door closed than the eyes of Captain
Wagner slowly opened, and he looked in the direction of
the door, muttering. Then his heavy moustache curled
slowly toward his ears, and under the mass appeared his
large, sharp teeth. He sat up and looked at the fire.
“Some people would say that I have done what is dishonest
and unsoldierly,” he muttered, kicking the brands of
the fire together, “let 'em! I was asleep and I woke,” he
added, gloomily. “I believe the sound of that voice woke
me.”
His eyes were raised toward the ceiling, and a strange
expression filled them, making them burn under their
shaggy brows.
“Good, good! it's well I'm here,” he muttered, “and I'll
act a comrade's part by him, or the devil take it—but not
too much! A noble fellow! He shall not be tricked!”
The Captain muttered something more to himself; and
then stopping suddenly, listened.
“There, I am at my folly again,” he growled. “I'm a
dog and can't sleep—I am dreaming!”
But in spite of this he rose, and went to the front window.
It was secured by the heavy shutter, through which
a streak of moonlight was visible.
The Borderer seemed uneasy; he walked to the other
window; stooped down, and for an instant seemed almost
to be smelling at it: and this idea appeared to cross his
mind, for he laughed, and returned to his place before the
fire.
“I'm a fool,” he said, “but I swear I felt uneasy: I must
decidedly get over this! I'm never at rest—why can't I
sleep?”
The fire began to burn clearly again, and give out a
pleasing warmth. The Borderer held his hands over the
blaze for a moment, then lay back in his chair; and placing
his huge boots upon the broad-topped andirons, began to
snore almost immediately.
The fire caught a fresh stick and licked it merrily, and
blazed aloft, but the Borderer slept on in spite of the full
light it poured upon him.
