University of Virginia Library

65. LXV.
CALIBAN AND MIRANDA.

THE young lady stirred in her sleep, and a tremor
ran through her frame. The vicinity of the
crouching and hideous figure seemed to exert a
magnetic influence upon her.

The Half-breed remained for some time silent and motionless
at her side, gazing with a species of ferocious and
yet servile admiration upon the beautiful countenance,
around which fell the profuse ebon curls—afraid apparently
to awaken the sleeper. Finally he grew bolder; he crawled
like a stealthy panther toward the pillow of the girl, and
took in his huge knotty fingers, one of the dark curls and
gazed at it with the air of a child who holds a toy which fills
it with delight.

The movement awoke the sleeper, and for an instant she
gazed with a dreamy air into the revolting mask, rather than
human countenance, upon which the red gleam of the fire-light
fell, lighting up every repulsive detail—the snake-like
eyes, the grinning mouth, the hooked nose, and narrow forehead,
like a dog's or an ape's. Another tremor ran through
Miss Argal's form, and she quickly rose, leaning upon one
hand, and looking silently at the Half-breed. In this gaze,
however, there was no trace of fear. Despite the wild and
frightful scene, the horrible appearance of the intruder, and
the half-darkness of the cavern, she did not tremble or exhibit
any sign of terror. On the contrary, she recovered
almost instantly the air of mistress, which we have referred
to, and said in a tone of anger:

“Why did you come and wake me?”

The savage cowered, and retreating two paces, said humbly,
but cunningly:

“I came to see if the White Raven,” such was the name
he had given her, “was well wrapped up and warm. The
cave is cold damp—and she is weary with the journey.”

“Well,” said Miss Argal calmly, “you see that I am provided
for—and now leave me.”

The Half-breed made an unconscious motion to obey, following
his instinct—but some other impulse counteracted
the first.

“Let us talk a little, first,” he said, grinning with a polite
air. “Let the White Raven talk to the Yellow Serpent.”

“I am weary.”

“Nevertheless you must talk,” returned the Half-Breed
obdurately, “you are my captive, and I am not sleepy.”

Miss Argal saw from the tone of these words that she had
lost a portion of her former power over him, and her marvelous
tact made her instantly change her manner and expression.

“Well,” she said, “if you treat me as your captive, I must
submit, and obey you. Of what shall we talk, Yellow Serpent?”

The old fascinating glance which had charmed Falconbridge
came back; and the dangerous smile of the dazzling
beauty played upon the ugly dwarf, as it had played upon
the young cavalier. The Half-breed thrilled with a vague
delight as she looked thus at him, and said:

“We will talk of the future, when you will be the Yellow
Serpent's wife.”

“Your wife!”

“Yes,” was the resolute, almost savage reply, “you shall
be my wife! I have sworn it, and it shall be so. I am
unmarried, I am a great brave; and you shall be my wife, or
I will keep you from being any other warrior's wife—you
must die, or be mine!”

The ferocious eyes glared as he spoke, and the lips curled
fiercely. Instead of becoming angry, Miss Argal smiled more
sweetly than before. The will of the strange animal pleased
her, whilst it put her upon her guard and aroused all her
finesse to meet the occasion. She assumed the pouting air
of a child, and with a glance filled with blandishment, said:

“Why do you wish to have me for your wife, Yellow Serpent?
You say that you are a great brave, if so, why have
you not selected some maiden of your tribe?”

The hideous face was darkened: the eyes scowled bitterly:

“Because the maidens despise me, and get sick when I
go near them,” he growled; “they are frightened by my
ugliness! You only are not frightened, and I have sworn
by the Evil Spirit that you shall be mine, White Raven—
mine only! You need not try to escape me! I will kill
myself rather, but I will kill you first. I will be your slave
if necessary—but rather than see you leave me, or spurn
me, I will plunge my knife into your heart, and we will die
together!”

He was ferocious, imperial, as he thus spoke. There was
something almost attractive in the fierce animal's air. He
resembled an aroused tiger. It was the beauty of strength
and bloody determination.

And instead of frightening Miss Argal, it drew her. Her
feminine nature, in spite of the disgusting figure of the
speaker, recognized his power and passion. She looked at
him almost with pleasure, and said smiling:

“Well, but suppose you were my husband, how could I
live away from home, in your land?”

“You need not,” returned the savage, returning to his
submissive air, “I will follow you back and become a white.
Still there is much to make you go with me. I am no
common Indian. I am a great chief, and my squaw will be
a great woman in the tribe. She shall live daintily, every
one shall wait on her. I will be king in the band, but she
will be the king's king—his beautiful queen. The tenderest

game shall be brought to the table of the White Raven—the
finest plunder shall be her own—the maidens shall dance
before her, and she shall wear the handsomest clothes to be
got in the settlements.”

“That is well; I like that, but I cannot go.”

“Why? You must!”

“I cannot.”

“You shall!”

Miss Argal became submissive and tranquil. She put her
hands to her eyes and murmured:

“Why do you speak to me so cruelly?”

Some sobs succeeded, and she looked through her tears
at the Half-breed, with such a lovely air of uncomplaining
sorrow, that he felt all his anger leave him. He cowered
before her, and said:

“The Yellow Serpent did not mean to make the White
Raven cry. He is her slave.”

The young lady dried her tears, and shaking her head, replied:

“You act like a master, and I no longer have any regard
for you. When you were kind to me, I liked you; but now
I hate you.”

And she turned away her head with an air of offended
dignity. The Half-breed was conquered by his captive. As
she yielded to his will, so now he submitted like a slave to
her displeasure. The resolute expression disappeared—his
eyes sank before her, and he said humbly:

“The Yellow Serpent did not mean to speak roughly.
He is no savage—he is almost a white, and knows how tender-hearted
the white maidens are. Let the White Raven
become the wife of the Serpent, and he will be her servant
for life. He is a Half-breed, he cares nothing for the Catawbas.
He will go and live like an Englishman in a house,
and hunt game, and till the ground, and wait on the White
Raven. He is her friend.”

“You do not prove it,” said Miss Argal, coldly.

“How must I?”

“Rescue me and my companions.”

“When?”

“To-night.”

The savage hesitated and reflected. He evidently doubted.

“If I do so,” he said at length, “will you go away with
me!”

It was Miss Argal's turn to hesitate—it was only for an
instant however. With her former fascinating smile she
said:

“I will go away with you.”

“And be my wife?”

“Yes,”

The hideous mask flushed with joy, and a broad grin revealed
the long hog-like teeth. The young lady almost recoiled
before the horrible countenance—she grew faint as
she saw the Half-Breed gaze upon her as a hawk does upon
a dove which he has nearly caught in his clutches. He
seized her hand, and would have pressed it to his ugly
mouth, but she suddenly drew it away, and said with a
quick return to her air of offended dignity.

“Let my hand go, and now let us talk of the means of
escape. How will you devise it?”

The Half-breed drew back humbly, and said:

“I must think of that. But it will be impossible to take
the others.”

And he pointed to Mrs. Butterton and Cannie. Miss
Argal assumed an air of resolute determination, and replied:

“Then I will not go with you.”

“Not go!”

“No—unless you rescue them, too!”

“Why, what do you care for them?”

“They are my friends—I love the little one dearly.”

And bending over the young girl, she smoothed with a
soft hand Cannie's disordered tresses. Her smile, as she
thus caressed the little head, was one of exquisite sweetness,

and showed how much warmth of heart was concealed beneath
the warped and strangely disturbed nature of the
poor girl. Her savage companion was not unaffected by the
manner of the young lady. He was evidently pleased, and
said at length:

“I will try. But you at least shall be rescued. I am
tired of my life in the band, and have been thinking that
you are right in wanting to return to the white settlements.
Yes, I will give up the war-path! I will go back with you—
White Raven, you shall make me a pale-face, like my father.”

The snake-like eyes grew thoughtful, and even soft, as the
man spoke, and he plainly returned in memory to some
scene of the past. Miss Argal caught the changed manner,
with her quick and acute instinct, and said:

“Was your father a white?”

“Yes,” returned the Half-breed, “he was a hunter who
married an Indian girl, of the Catawbas. My mother died
when I was a baby, and my father soon afterward. The
tribe took me, and one day my old granny, who nursed me,
showed me where my father and mother were buried in the
woods by Belle Rivière—which the English call the Ohio
I never cried but once—I cried that day. Yes, I did cry
afterwards when granny was killed by a white—I split his
head with my tomahawk though! I wanted him to come
to, afterwards, to stick burning splinters in his body, and
roast him till he yelled and died in the flames!”

The scowl had come back,—the bloody instinct was revived:—but
it disappeared again, very soon before the smiles
of his companion. She had evidently marshalled all of her
attractions for the task of subduing to her will, and making
a slave of, the singular being in whose power she found herself.
No one could have discovered in her air or expression
the least indication of disgust, as she looked at and spoke to
him. Her smile was as dazzling, her eyes dwelt upon his
countenance with as pleased and gratified a look, as if it was
the face of a gallant young gentleman, and not a sallow, deformed

ape. In half an hour her dominion over him was
complete. He was gazing at her with a species of submissive
ecstasy: the soft hand, figuratively speaking, had
smoothed with its caresses the bristling head of the animal
and with delighted growls, he crouched and cowered at the
feet of his mistress and keeper.

The details of the project of escape were quickly arranged.
At daylight the Half-breed would return to the cavern
where she slept—and pass through the fissure in the roof of
the highest cave to the area above, with the three women—
he would leave Mrs. Butterton and Cannie at a place of safety,
near a neighboring fort,—and then he and Miss Argal would
proceed to a spot in the Alleghanies, where a New Light
missionary lived, and be married. Afterwards they would
seek the northern settlements.

This was the Half-breed's plan. It is unnecessary to say
that it was not Miss Argal's. Her design was to escape
without the assistance of the Half-breed;—her colloquy
on the subject had a very simple object. That object was
the discovery of the means which her captor would make
use of to effect the escape. She had attained a knowledge
of all now:—the fissure in the upper cave would permit them
to pass:—and long before daybreak, they would all be far
away.

As this thought passed through her mind, Miss Argal bestowed
upon the Half-breed, her most winning and confiding
smile. She graciously gave him her hand to kiss—submitted
to the ceremony without moving a muscle—and then,
declaring that she needed rest, smiled him out of the cavern.

The animal went away, shuddering with ill-concealed delight,
and gazing on the young woman until an abutment of
the rock hid her from his view.

With a sneering smile, Miss Argal then turned, and hastily,
but with a wary hand, awoke her companions.