Part 1 (2/2)
In striking contrast with all this is the appearance of her companion.
The impression the eye receives in looking on the latter is that of something soft and beautiful, of a glorious golden hue. It is the reflection of bright amber-coloured hair on a blonde skin, tinted with vermilion imparting a sort of luminous radiance divinely feminine.
Scrutinise this countenance more closely; and you perceive that the features are in perfect harmony with each other, and harmonise with the complexion. You behold a face, such as the Athenian fancy has elaborated into an almost living reality in the G.o.ddess Cytherea.
This creature of golden roseate hue is yet very young--scarcely more than a child--but in the blue sky above her burns a fiery sun; and in twelve months she will be a woman.
Her costume is still more simple than that of her companion: a sleeved dress of the same striped homespun, loosely worn, and open at the breast; her fine amber-coloured hair the only covering for her head--as it is the only shawl upon her shoulders, over which it falls in ample luxuriance. A string of pearls around her neck--false pearls, poor thing!--is the only effort that vanity seems to have made in the way of personal adornment. Even shoes and stockings are wanting; but the most costly _chaussure_ could not add to the elegance of those pretty _mignon_ feet.
Who are they--these fair flowers of the forest?
_Let_ the mystery end. They _are_ sisters--though not the children of one mother. They are the daughters of the hunter--the owner of the cabin and clearing--his only children.
Happy hunter! poor you may be, and your home lowly; it can never be lonely in such companions.h.i.+p. The proudest prince may envy you the possession of two such treasures--beyond parallel, beyond price!
CHAPTER TWO.
MARIAN AND LILIAN.
Pa.s.sing outward from the door, the two young girls pause in their steps: an object has attracted their attention. A large dog is seen running out from the shed--a gaunt fierce-looking animal, that answers to the very appropriate name of ”Wolf.” He approaches the sisters, and salutes them with an unwilling wag of his tail. It seems as though he could not look pleased, even while seeking a favour--for this is evidently the purpose that has brought him forth from his lair.
He appeals more especially to the older of the girls--Marian.
”Ho, Wolf! I see your sides are thin, old fellow: you want your breakfast! What can we give him, Lil?”
”Indeed, sister, I know not: there is nothing for the poor dog.”
”There is some deer-meat inside?”
”Ah! I fear father will not allow Wolf to have that. I heard him say he expected one to take dinner with him to-day? You know who?”
An arch smile accompanies this half-interrogatory; but, for all that, the words do not appear to produce a pleasant effect. On the contrary, a shade is observable on the brow of her to whom they are addressed.
”Yes, I _do_ know. Well, he shall not dine with _me_. 'Tis just for that I've brought out my rifle. To-day, I intend to make my dinner in the woods, or go without, and that's more likely. Never fear, Wolf! you shall have your breakfast; whether I get my dinner or not. Now, for the life of me, Lil, I don't know what we can give the poor brute. Those buzzards are just within range. I could bring one of _them_ down; but the filthy creatures, ugh! even a dog won't eat them.”
”See, sister! yonder is a squirrel. Wolf will eat squirrels, I know: but, ah! it's a pity to kill the little creature.”
”Not a bit. Yon little creature is a precious little thief; it's just been at our corn-crib. By killing it, I do justice in a double sense: I punish the thief, and reward the good dog. Here goes!”
The squirrel, scared from its depredation on the corn, sweeps nimbly over the ground towards the nearest tree. Wolf having espied it, rushes after in headlong pursuit. But it is a rare chance indeed when a dog captures one of these animals upon the ground; and Wolf, as usual, is unsuccessful.
He has ”treed” the squirrel; but what of that? The nimble creature, having swooped up to a high limb, seats itself there, and looks down upon its impotent pursuer with a nonchalant defiance--at intervals more emphatically expressing the sentiment by a saucy jerk of its tail. But this false security proves the squirrel's ruin. Deceived by it, the silly animal makes no effort to conceal its body behind the branch; but, sitting upright in a fork, presents a fair mark to the rifle. The girl raises the piece to her shoulder, takes aim, and fires.
The shot tells; and the tiny victim, hurled from its high perch--after making several somersaults in the air--falls right into the jaws of that hungry savage at the bottom of the tree. Wolf makes his breakfast upon the squirrel.
This young Diana of the backwoods appears in no way astonished at the feat she has performed; nor yet Lilian. Doubtless, it is an everyday deed.
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