University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.
ELLA.

The town of P— is almost exactly east of Glen's
Creek, and by keeping constantly in that direction, Orianna
had but little difficulty in finding her way. In twelve
days' time she accomplished her journey, stopping for food

and lodging at the numerous wigwams which lay on her
road.

It was near the middle of the afternoon when, at last,
she entered the woods on the borders of which lay the
settlement of P—. Wearied with her day's toil, she
sought a resting-place beneath the same old oak where,
seventeen years before, Mr. Gorton had laid his little
Madeline; and the same large, rough stone which he had
placed there to mark the spot, and which had since fallen
down, now served her for a seat. But Orianna knew it
not, nor ever dreamed that often had Robert and Marian
stood there, the one listening tearfully, while the other
told her all he could remember of the sister who, in childish
playfulness, he had often called his little wife.

It was now near the first of April, and already had the
forest trees put forth many a dark green leaflet, while the
song birds gaily caroled of the coming summer; but Orianna
did not hear them. Sadly her heart went back to
her home, and what there awaited her. Weary and worn,
it is not strange that for a time she yielded to the despair
which had gathered about her heart. Covering her face
with her hands, she wept bitterly, nor until twice repeated
did she hear the words, “What makes you cry so?” uttered
in the soft tones of childhood.

Looking up, she saw before her a little girl, her deep
blue eyes filled with wonder and her tiny hands filled with
the wild flowers of spring.

Something whispered to Orianna that it was Ella, and
brushing away her tears, she answered, “Orianna is tired,
for she has come a long way.”

“What have you come for?” asked the child.

“Charlie sent me. Do you know Charlie?” and Orianna
looked earnestly at the little girl, whose blue eyes
opened wider, and whose tiny hands dropped the flowerets,

as she answered, “Charlie, my cousin Charlie? Have
you come from him? What word did he send me?”

“Walk with me and I will tell you,” said Orianna, rising
and taking by the hand the unresisting child, who,
with the ready instinct of childhood, could discriminate
between a friend and foe.

For more than an hour they walked rapidly on, Ella, in
her eagerness to hear from Charlie, never once thinking
how fast the distance between herself and her home was
increasing; nor had she a thought of her companion's intention,
until Orianna, suddenly lifting her in her arms,
said, “I promised Charlie I would bring you, and for that
have I come.”

Then a cry of fear burst from Ella, who struggled vainly
to escape from the arms which gently, but tightly, held
her. “Let me go, oh, please let me go,” she cried, as
Orianna's walk quickened into a run; but Orianna only
replied, “I told Charlie I would bring you, and I promise
you shall not be hurt.”

“Mother, oh, mother, who will tell my mother?” asked
Ella.

“I will send some one to her in the morning,” answered
Orianna; and then in order to soothe the excited child,
she commenced narrating anecdotes of Charlie and the
place to which they were going.

Finding it impossible to escape, Ella by degrees grew
calm, and as the night closed in, she fell asleep in the arms
of Orianna, who, with almost superhuman efforts, sped on
until a wigwam was reached. There for a short time she
rested, and won from a young Indian a promise that he
would next morning acquaint Capt. Wilder of the whereabouts
of his child. Fearing pursuit, she could not be prevailed
upon to stay all night, but started forward, still

keeping in her arms the little Ella, who at last slept as
soundly as ever she had done in her soft bed at home.

The night was far spent when Orianna finally stopped
beneath the shelter of a large, overhanging rock. The
movement aroused Ella, who instantly comprehending
where she was, again plead earnestly that she might go
home. Orianna soon convinced her that to return alone
was impossible, and then painted the meeting between herself
and Charlie so glowingly, that though her eyes were
full of tears, her voice was more cheerful, as she asked,
“And will you surely bring me back?”

“As yonder stars fade in the rising sun, so surely shall
you go home,” said Orianna. Then spreading in her lap
the blanket which, with ready forethought, she had
brought from home, she bade Ella lie down and sleep.

“And will you keep the bad Indians off?” asked Ella,
looking shudderingly around at the dark woods.

“No one will harm you while I am here,” was Orianna's
reply, and with the trusting faith of childhood Ella was
soon fast asleep, while Orianna carefully watched her
slumbers.

Once during her night vigils she was startled by the
distant cry of some wild beast, but it came not near, and
the morning found them both unharmed. Dividing with
her little charge the corn bread and cold venison which
had been procured at the wigwam, Orianna again set forward,
leading Ella by the hand, and beguiling the hours
in every possible way. The next night they passed in a
wigwam, where dusky faces bent curiously above the
“pale flower” as she slept, and where, next morning, in
addition to the bountiful supply of corn-cake and venison,
a bunch of spring violets was presented to Ella by an Indian
boy, who had gathered them expressly for the “white
pappoose,” as he called her.

Blest season of childhood, which gathers around it so
many who are ready to smooth the rough places and
pluck the sharp thorns which lie so thickly scattered on
life's pathway! It was Ella's talisman; for more than one
tall Indian, on learning her history from Orianna, cheerfully
lent a helping hand, and on his brawny shoulders carried
her from the sun's rising to its going down.

With Ella for a companion, Orianna proceeded but
slowly, and nearly three weeks were spent ere familiar
way-marks told her that they were nearing Lexington.
“In less than two days we shall be there,” she said to
Ella, as at the close of one day they drew near that town.

Lighter grew Ella's footsteps, and brighter was her eye,
while darker and deeper grew the shadows around poor
Orianna. She was right in her calculations, for on the afternoon
of the second day they struck into the narrow
footpath which led to Deacon Wilder's house, and which
she and Charlie oft had trodden.

Here for a time we will leave them, while in another
chapter we will read what has taken place since we in the
wilderness have been roaming.