Part 34 (1/2)
”It is not usual for so small a party to pa.s.s over the prairies alone.
There is always danger from the Indians. Sometimes from whites too! Ah me! there are white savages--worse savages than red--far worse--far worse!”
These strange speeches, with the sigh that accompanied them, caused me to turn my head, and steal a glance at the countenance of my companion.
It was tinged with melancholy, or rather deeply impressed with it. She, too, suffering from the past? In this glance I again remarked what had already attracted my notice--a resemblance to Lilian Holt! It was of the slightest, and so vague, that I could not tell in what it lay.
Certainly not in the features--which were signally unlike those of Lilian; and equally dissimilar was the complexion. Were I to place the resemblance, I should say that I saw it in the cast of the eye, and heard it in the voice. The similitude of tone was striking. Like Lilian's, it was a voice of that rich clarion sound with which beautiful women are gifted--those having the full round throat so proudly possessed by the damsels of Andalusia. Of course, reflected I, the likeness must be accidental. There was no possibility of its being otherwise; and I had not a thought that it was so. I was simply reminded of looks and tones that needed not that to recall them. The souvenirs so excited hindered me from making an immediate reply.
”Your observations are somewhat singular?” I remarked at length.
”Surely you have not verified them by your own experience?”
”I have. Yes--and too sadly, ever to think them otherwise than just. I have had little reason to love those of my own colour--that is, if I am to consider myself a white.”
”But you are so, are you not?”
”Not altogether. I have Indian blood in my veins.”
”Not much, I should fancy?”
”Enough to give me Indian inclinings--and, I fear, also a dislike to those of my own complexion.”
”Indeed?”
”Perhaps less from instinct than experience. Ah! stranger! I have reason. Is it not enough that all have proved false--father, lover, husband?”
”Husband! You are married, then?”
”No.”
”You have been?”
”No.”
”Why did you say _husband_!”
”A husband only in name. I have been married, but never a wife; wedded, but never--”
The speaker paused. I could feel her arm quivering around my waist.
She was under the influence of some terrible emotion!
”Yours must be a strange story?” I remarked, with a view of inducing her to reveal it. ”You have greatly excited my curiosity; but I know that I have no claim to your confidence.”
”You may yet win it.”
”Tell me how.”
”You say you intend returning to the States. I may have a commission for you; and you shall then hear my story. It is not much. Only a simple maiden, whose lover has been faithless--her father untrue to his paternal trust--her husband a cheat, a perjured villain.”
”Your relations.h.i.+ps have been singularly unfortunate; but your words only mystify me the more. I should give much to know who you are, and what strange chance has led you hither?”