Part 35 (1/2)
”Some evil spirit of the woods has taken her.”
”Can you listen and think, Pani?” and she chafed the cold hand she held.
”I have had many strange thoughts and Touchas, you know, has seen visions. The white man has changed everything and driven away the children of the air who used to run to and fro in the times of our fathers. In her youth she called them, but the Church has it they are demons, and to look at the future is a wicked thing. It is said in some places they have put people to death for doing it.”
Pani's dark eyes gave a glance of mute inquiry.
”But I asked Touchas. At first she said the great Manitou had taken the power from her. But the night the moon described the full circle and one could discern strange shapes in it, she came to me, and we went and sat under the oak tree where the child first came to thee. There was great disturbance in Touchas' mind, and her eyes seemed to traverse s.p.a.ce beyond the stars. Presently, like one in a dream, she said:--
”'The child is alive. She was taken by Indians to the _pet.i.te_ lake, her head covered, and in strong arms. Then they journeyed by water, stopping, and going on until they met a big s.h.i.+p sailing up North. She is in great danger, but the stars watch over her; a prisoner where the window is barred and the door locked. There is a man between two women, an Indian maiden, whose heart hungers for him. She comes down to meet him and follows a trail and finds something that rouses her to fierce anger. She creeps and creeps, and finds the key and unlocks the door.
The white maiden is afraid at first and cowers, for she reads pa.s.sion in the other's eyes. O great Manitou, save her!' Then Touchas screamed and woke, s.h.i.+vering all over, and could see no further into the strange future. 'Wait until the next moon,' she keeps saying. But the child will be saved, she declares.”
”Oh, my darling, my little one!” moaned the woman, rocking herself to and fro. ”The saints protect thee. Oh, I should have watched thee better! But she felt so safe. She had been afraid, but the fear had departed. Oh, my little one! I shall die if I do not see thee again.”
”I feel that the great G.o.d will care for her. She has done no evil; and the priests declare that he will protect the good. And I thought and thought, until a knowledge seemed to come out of the clear sky. So I did not wait for the next moon. I said, 'I have little need for Paspah, since I earn bread for the little ones. Why should he sit in the wigwam all winter, now and then killing a deer or helping on the dock for a drink of brandy?' So I sent him North again to join the hunters and to find Jeanne. For I know that handsome, evil-eyed Louis Marsac is at the bottom of it.”
”Oh, Wenonah!” Pani fell on her shoulder and cried, she was so weak and overcome.
”We will not speak of this. Paspah has a grudge against Marsac; he struck him a blow last summer. My father would have killed him for the blow, but the red men who hang around the towns have no spirit. They creep about like panthers, and only show their teeth to an enemy. The forest is the place for them, but this life is easier for a woman.”
Wenonah sighed. Civilization had charms for her, yet she saw that it was weakening her race. They were driven farther and farther back and to the northward. Women might accept labor, they were accustomed to it in the savage state but a brave could not so demean himself.
Pani's mind was not very active yet. For some moments she studied Wenonah in silence.
”She was afraid of him. She would not go out to the forest nor on the river while he was here. But he went away--”
”He could have planned it all. He would find enough to do his bidding.
But if she has been taken up North, Paspah will find her.”
That gave some present comfort to Pani. But she began to be restless and wanted to return to her own cottage.
”You must not live alone,” said Wenonah.
”But I want to be there. If my darling comes it is there she will search for me.”
When Wenonah found she could no longer keep her by persuasion or entreaty, she went home with her one day. The tailor's widow had taken some little charge of the place. It was clean and tidy.
Pani drew a long, delighted breath, like a child.
”Yes, this is home,” she exclaimed. ”Wenonah, the good Mother of G.o.d will reward you for your kindness. There is something”--touching her forehead in piteous appeal--”that keeps me from thinking as I ought. But you are sure my little one will come back, like a bird to its nest?”
”She will come back,” replied Wenonah, hardly knowing whether she believed it herself or not.
”Then I shall stay here.”
She was deaf to all entreaties. She went about talking to herself, with a sentence here and there addressed to Jeanne.
”Yes, leave her,” said Margot. ”She was good to me in my sorrow, and _pet.i.te_ Jeanne was an angel. The children loved her so. She would not go away of her own accord. And I will watch and see that no harm happens to Pani, and that she has food. The boys will bring her f.a.gots for fire.