The Secret Shot; Or, The Rivals Of Misty Mount — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

£0 THE SECRET SHOT. . , form of Wandalo glided into the moonlight. Flis eyes rested upon her with sorrowful tenderness. “Why does the wild Passion-Flower Groop ?” said Wandalo. “Are the dews of memory heavy on her soul ?” The woman’s mood was one on which fhe sad tones of the savage fell sooth- ingly. “Yes, my friend,”’: she replied; “but I am always thus. And how is it with the Thunder-Mocker? He is also pensive. He lingers about the mountain which his tribe have deserted, like a lonely waterfall whose Sister torrents have ceased to flow.” “Yes,” was the mournful reply. “The white man’s foot may invade the old dingles, and the red-men may drift to the westward ike the waving fogs in the morning sun, but Wandalo still roams like a dream the eld hunting-grounds. And his spirit shall Imger here also. While the eagles shriek and soar above the cliffs—while the deer and the bear and the wolf are abroad, and while the Catawba flows to the sea, the soul of Wandalo shall cling to his Misty Mountain.” He relapsed into silence, and, sitting down by her side, took her hand in his, without resistance, for Wandalo and Judith were old friends. Kt is difficult to imagine a genuine love as existing in the breast of a male aborigine, his habits are so rude—his nature is so fierce. But, if ever man loved woman fer- vently, devotedly, this lonely Indian, Wan- dalo, loved the slave-woman, Judith. He had a proud, high tone of feeling in his rude breast, and he knew the woman per- fectly for what she was—a slave. Still he would have made her his bride with utter rapture ; he would have borne her to his Jonely cabin on the mountain, and made her his queen—his idol. ‘Wandalo was a young brave, full of the ardor and vigor of fhe savage when the blood is fresh in the veins, at the time when Jacob Gleason came to the neighborhood of the Mountain from the coast, bringing with him, among other slaves, the beautiful mulatto, who was then in the ripe, voluptuous splendor of tropic womanhood. There were dark threads in the rumor ef her history. That which gained the most credence was that ghe was natural sister of Godfrey Gwin, the wealthy possessor of Misty Mount. Judith’s mother, Elise, a slaye-woman of much beauty and some accomplishments, had be- longed ‘to Sir Henry Gwin, the father of old Godfrey, many years before the opening of our story. Elise was wedded to a slaye, also a mulatto, a house-servant at the man- sion, but suffered such persecution at the hands of her mistress, the baronet’s wife, that she became partially deranged. The birth of Judith, and the child’s exceeding beauty, only added to the poor mother’s calamities. One morning early she was discovered dead in her bed, having taken poison. Judith grew up, as tenderly cared for as it was possible by Sir Henry, but hated by the mistress, for the child was a pure quadroon in complexion, and intelli- gent as the most favored child of Saxon blood. The kindness of Sir Henry toward her seemed to confirm the generally received opinion of his close relationship, and she passed for one of his own blood. That the baronet’s other children imbibed much ef their mother’s hate toward the quadroon was but natural, and the boys, Rupert and Godfrey, were not naturally calculated to brook her presence when it could be dis- pensed with. The opportunity of placing her where, in a slaye community, such are ever legally placed—in a slaye’s position and estate—was not wanting, for, upon Sir Henry’s death, Judith fell by law among the “ assets” of his estate, and was dis- posed of as one of his horses would haye been. .Her purchaser was Jacob Gleason. That this man had a design in her purchase will appear in the course of the narrative. Judith had in her nature all the elements of happiness. She was very beautiful, very gleesome, very willing to love and be loved; but, all this power to be happy was thrust back upon her heart like a threat, and when she was converted into a slaye, in fact, by executor’s sale, her passionate soul lost itg love, its purity, its hopes, and she became changed to a creature whose ceaseless cry was for vengeance, not only against those who had abased .her, but against society itself, which looked on and indorsed the hideous wrongs heaped upon her existence. From her heart went forth all pity, all good- ness, as somber mourners from a house of death ; in their stead came the passions and hates which render human nature fearful in its worst manifestations. As the property of Gleason, the beautiful girl was received in his family with the dis- trust and jealousy which Southern Women always bestowed upon household slaves of more than ordinary attractions. But she COMIIGHDOOKSACO