15. XV.
Thus said, or rather sung, the uncouth god, to
Mary, as, after the first emotions of his own joy
were over, he beheld the expression of melancholy
in her countenance. Somehow, there was
something so fatherly, so gentle, and withal, so
melodious, in his language, that she soon unbosomed
herself to him, telling him freely and in the
utmost confidence, though without any hope of
relief at his hands, the history of her lover, and
the new project for departure which he had now
got in his head. She was surprised, and pleased,
when she saw that Logoochie smiled at the narrative.
She was not certain, yet she had a vague
hope, that he could do something for her relief;
and her conjecture was not in vain. He spoke —
“Why should the grief be in the heart and the
cloud on the face of the maiden? Is not Logoochie
to help her? He stands beside her to help.
Look, daughter of the pale clay — look! There
is power in the leaf that shall serve thee at the
bidding of Logoochie; — the bough and the
branch have a power for thy good, when Logoochie
commands; and the little red-berry which I
now pluck from the vine hanging over thee, it is
strong with a spirit which is good in thy work,
when Logoochie has said in thy service. Lo, I
speak to the leaf, and to the bough, and to the
berry. They shall speak to the water, and one
draught from the branch of Logoochie, shall put
chains on the heart of the youth who would go
forth with the stranger.”
As he spoke, he gathered the leaf, broke a bough
from an overhanging tree, and, with a red berry,
pulled from a neighboring vine, approached the
Branch of Sweet Water, and turning to the west,
muttered a wild spell of Indian power, than threw
the tributes into the rivulet. The smooth surface
of the stream was in an instant ruffled — the offerings
were whirled suddenly around — the waters
broke, boiled, bubbled, and parted, and in another
moment, the bough, the berry, and the leaf,
had disappeared from their sight.
