13. XIII.
THE OWNER OF THE HANDKERCHIEF.
FORDING the Rappahannock near the little hamlet of Orleans,
I stopped to dine and feed my horses at the hospitable mansion
of Mr. M——; and then continued my way, drawing nearer
and nearer to the long blue wave of the Ridge.
I lost no time, as heavy banks of clouds piled up on the horizon
indicated an approaching storm; and the thunder already
began to mutter in the distance. The declining sun, threatening
and bloody, poured its crimson light upon field and forest as I
hastened on; and from time to time vivid flashes of lightning
lit up the dark masses slowly gathering overhead. Then all at
once, without warning, and ere I dreamed of its approach, rushed
down from the mountains a veritable hurricane.
Never before had I encountered anything like this sudden tornado.
It blinded me, and took my breath away. Roaring as it
came, like a thousand wild beasts unloosed, it tore across the
fields, whirled amid the boughs of the forest, and carried everything
before it.
I had entered a belt of woods, through which the road ran,
ere I realized the extent of the hurricane; and now went on at
full speed, to escape the dangerous vicinity of crashing boughs
and tree trunks. The air was filled with limbs torn from the
trees, and more than once, as I passed beneath, I narrowly
escaped being struck by them.
All at once, as I went on at full gallop, I saw a horse shoot
out from a side road, a hundred yards in front of me, and a
second glance told me that the rider was a young lady. Her
hair was flowing in heavy curls upon her shoulders, from beneath
the coquettish little hat and feather; her habit streamed like a
meteor; and, with head thrown back, and slender form erect in
the saddle, she seemed to be enjoying the hurly-burly of the
storm.
Behind her came a servant, urging his horse violently with
hand and heel—as perfect a specimen of terror as his young
mistress was of “game.”
I was charmed with the enticing figure which sped on before
me, and pashed my horse to his utmost speed, not only to escape
the storm, but also to keep up with the young lady. As I did
so, the hurricane increased in intensity. The air was full of flying
boughs: twice I was obliged to leap trees which had crashed
down between myself and the young lady: finally my enjoyment
of her splendid horsemanship came suddenly to an end. The
storm came on with a roar which surpassed all its former fury;
a huge limb above me snapped—the next moment I was struck
violently upon the head, and hurled from my horse to the
ground.
I must have been completely stunned for some moments.
When I opened my eyes and came to my senses, I saw the
young lady kneeling beside me, and felt her arm under my head.
At ten paces the frightened servant held her horse. The storm
raged as furiously as before, but the young lady seemed perfectly
indifferent to it.
Suddenly I recognized in the face close to my own something
familiar; then a thrill ran through my frame. It was the
owner of the handkerchief which I had picked up, on that
moonlight night, in the grounds of the Capitol at Richmond!
There was no sort of doubt about the identity of the young
lady. There were the same beautiful lips, as red as carnations;
the same waving chestnut hair; the same eyes, half haughty and
half languishing—great violet eyes, which had haunted me ever
since that evening!
I must have looked at her fixedly, for a slight rose-color came
to the cheeks. Then it faded, and she said, with the most perfect
calmness:
“Are you much hurt, sir? Your arm seems to be broken.”
“I do not know,” I murmured. “I am ashamed to trouble
you!”
“You do not trouble me at all, sir,” was the reply of the
young lady. “I will assist you to rise.”
Was anything ever less romantic? Instead of rescuing the
young girl, of whom I had dreamed so long, here she was coming
to my own succor and rescuing
me!
Rising faintly to my feet, with a sort of vertigo in my brain, I
managed to mount my horse, which was led up at the moment,
and the young lady, too, got into the saddle.
“You must not ride rapidly: I fear you are seriously hurt,”
she said. “I am in no haste, and will accompany you until you
feel stronger, sir.”
And she calmly rode on by my side.
She was in no haste!—and yet the forest was a whirlpool of
falling limbs and crashing trees, as the storm roared on with
unabated fury! My fair companion exhibited not a single
evidence of fear—her face was as calm and cold as before. You
would have said that she was riding pensively along on a tranquil
May morning.
We soon issued from the forest.
“Will you come to my father's house, sir, until the storm is
over?” my companion now said. “I think you need some rest
before riding further.”
“Thanks!” I murmured, in a sort of dream, as I listened to
that voice.
And she led the way into a by-road which ran in the direction
of a house which I saw rising from the woods upon a distant
hill.
Still stunned, bewildered, and scarcely realizing my situation,
I rode on by the side of the young lady, who seemed not to observe
the rain which now drenched her chestnut curls and her
riding habit. She did not again open her lips; and I was too
faint and weak to address her.
In a quarter of an hour we reached a large white gate,
ascended a grassy hill, and stopped before the portico of an
old mansion of very considerable size, overshadowed by magnificent
oaks. I remember some dogs were lying upon the
portico, and a peacock was cowering with wet plumage beneath
one of the trees. Memory is a curious faculty and deals in
trifles.
I had dismounted, with the vague feeling that I ought to assist
the young lady from the saddle, when a gentleman, with long
gray hair falling upon his shoulders, came out and approached us.
After that, I don't remember much more. My arm seemed on
fire; a mist passed before my eyes, and, only dimly realizing
that the arm of the gray-haired gentleman was around me,
I lost consciousness.
Again, my dear reader, can you possibly imagine any incident
less “heroic” than this first meeting with the lady of the
handkerchief?
