Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 183 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

« . * i ete 4 eo oe _- er ee lh er ae - Pid Gilbert, the Guide. 27 ‘‘T must dwell in the lodges of the white men from this hour, for I have given my word,” replied Morena. aft. ‘‘Would it make you happier if you could know who your father was?’ he asked. “Yes, Darromed; will, you not tell me, for the sake of the past?” ‘Gilbert, the Guide, come near,” said the chief, “and all you who would listen to a strange tale, hear me speak. Many years ago I went out. upon the war-path, and surprised a stockade upon the upper Ohio. In that stockade lived a young white man who had been a great war-chief under the great Wasb- ington. The chief was away, and we took them all, the squaw and two little children, The slaves were killed, and we took much spoil. The stockade was burned to the ground. - ‘In my band I had three nations: Wyandots, Hurons of the Lakes, and Pottawatomies. The Pottawatomies took one child, the Hurons took the woman, and the other child fell to my ‘ m o not keep me suspense ! cried Gilbert. “What ‘aid you do with that child?” **Suppose she wearied on the way and I killed her?’ the Wyandot replied, questioning. “Beware that you do not confess any such crime as that!” cried Gilbert, with a fierce look. | ““ What did you do with the child?” Madame was =: to be seen that she was fearfully excited. within the other, and her breath came thick | - fight. agrange had .drawn near, and it | ' hand into her bosom, she drew out a little er hands wreathed themselves one | lockét, years the foot of the encroaching white man could not come. ‘* And where is Helen?” asked Gilbert, as they laid the chief gently down. ‘‘ Ah, there she is, Morena, go and meet her!” The sweet girl sprung away, and met Water- man, Helen and Pat returning from tbe hut where Helen had remained through the All that Clinton needed to say to Helen was: “‘ This is Morena; love her, for my sake. Madame Lagrange, or rather Estelle Gilbert- son, for that was the true name of the man so long known as Gilbert, the Guide, met the sweet pair, and taking Helen’s hand in hers, kissed her tenderly, and then looked with a puzzled expression from face to face. ‘What is your name, my sweet child?” she said. ‘Husband, what does this mean?” “My name is Helen Carlyon, madam,” repli Helen. ‘I do not understand you.” ‘ Have you any reason to believe that Carlyon is not your real name?” ‘‘It is not, madam. My real name I never knew, for Major Carlyon took me from an Indian village when I was a little child and adopted me. The Indians did not know my name, but only that | was taken in one of their forays.” “Have you anything which you wore when you were a child?” ‘Only this,” said Helen, and putting her the exact counterpart of the one which Gilbertson and Morena had worn. There could and labored; and her eyes were never turned | be no doubt that this was the locket which from the steadfast face of Gilbert, the Guide, | Estelle Gilbertson had put upon the neck of her as he bent over the dying chief. infant daughter many years before, and with a ‘** What care I for your tbreats?’ replied the | great cry of joy, the reunited family clasped chief, ‘‘I can only die, and but for orena’s | hands at once. It was a wonderful meeting; sake, who bas been true to the Wyandots, I| and the stern, bordermen looked...on with would not tell you now, for your hand laid my, father and my brother low, and only spared me because you knew lL held the secret whetber your daughter lived or died. Give me some drink.” Gilbert held a brandy-flask to his lips, and he took a sip of the fiery ree ‘Your child it was, Gilbert, who fell to my share. I took her to my village and traired her to forget that she had not always lived among us. There she stands, Morena, Queen of the Lake!” Gilbert uttered a glad cry, and Morena, rais- ing herself, fell sobbing, into hisarms. Theface of the Guide seemed to be transfigured, and his eyes gleamed with a joy which had not been there for years as he pressed her to his breast, and kissed her again and again. ‘““At last, at last!” he cried. ‘“‘ After many years.” Darromed raised himself upon his elbow, and looked at the pair, who for a moment forgot that any other creature breathed. At length Gilbert s and putting Morena gently aside, though stili clasping her hand, he turned to the dying warrior. “You have given me back my daughter, chief; ‘‘ where is my wife?’ “ Here?” cried & solemn voice, sweet and musical. CHAPTER XXV. REUNION. ALL turned toward the speaker, and saw that it was e Lagrange. She had thrown aside her vail, and reve a face which, al- though it bore marks of a life of sorrow, was still beautiful. She put out her hands to Gilbert with a touching gesture of supreme love and faith. The next moment he held her close up to his beating heart—the wife he bad lost many ~ year te eon 4 Aner Pag scene 6 the silent lake, and there was not a dry eye among the lookers-on. Even the Onond turned Mia. in the presence py this enduring Gilbert, with one arm about his wife and the | other clasping his daughter, looked up to heaven with streaming — Darromed, with rapidly- glazing eyes, looked upon the ae trio with : smile, even as he felt the pangs o death upon im. ** Morena!” he ed. She released herself from her father’s arm and stooped over him. “I am dying,” he said. the kindness the tribe have done you, do not suffer the body of a chief to be mutilated, Lay me down under these bending trees, with my dead warriors about me, and let none know that underneath the grass-grown and flowery sod rests the clay of a great chief. Hark; I hear the voice of. warriors who have gone before calling me to the spirit-world. They wait for me to join them beside the rapid river, where the white man cannot come, | Morena, I—” Was at rest. He whose whole life had been ee ee away | “For the sake of | | amazed eyes, not undimmed by tears. ‘‘T need but few words to tell my story,” said .Mrs. Gilvertson, Madame Lagrange no longer. “The Hurons took me to their village, far to the north, and for three years I was a prisoner there, though kindly treated. At the end of that time 1 wasransomed by an English- man and taken to Quebec. There I found my relatives, and from thence sent two Indian runners to the Ohio, to find out whether my husband was alive. They brought back word that he had disappeared long agu, and although every one believed him dead, no one could tell where his bones were «laid. I thought my childrén dead too, and could not bear to return, and so I staid in Montreal until six years ago, when I came to York, where I found my cousin, Herbert Gandelion, who had been sent out as an Indian agent under McKay. At York I first saw this dear child, and my heart went out to her at once. Little did 1 dream that she was one of the twin daughters I lost so long ago. Since that time I have been trying to win her from her Indian friends, and only sue- ceeded yesterday in forcing a promise from her.” ! “My story is enough to fill a volume, Es- telle,” said Gilbertson, “ but I will be as short as you. I have been a wanderer ever since my loss, when I came to my ruined home and found ‘nothing but smoking rafters and whit- ened bones. knew the d which did the deed, and since that time I have lived as an avenger. That time is over, thank . and you and I, together with these sweet children, will live anew our lives.” At this moment McKay advanced with a smiling face. ‘*The reuniting of this family was to have been my task,” he said. ‘‘ Unfortunately, I was interrupted,” “Colonel McKay,” said Gandelion, ‘‘ have you penetration enough to understand that your presence is not required here, and the sooner you climb into a canoe and leave the better it will be for you?” ‘‘ How so, Do you dare speak in that wey, to me?’ do, sir. Yesterday you were my superior officer, but to-day you are not. My resignation as sent ina month ago has been accepted by the commander-in-chief, and, as a private citizen, sir? _I shall feel constrained to pull your nose the very first time I meet you elsewhere,” ‘*It is very brave to quarrel in the presence of ladies,” sneered McKay, turning pale. “Tt is that very fact that prevents me from rforming the operation now,” replied Gande- ion, coolly. ‘*] demand a passage to the fort upon your schooner.” ‘Your foot never shall pollute a deck of mine, sir; I refuse, and wonder at your mg dence in making the request. Find those In- dian renegodes and let them paddle you to the mainland, and be sure you take Frisbee with you, or I will tar and feather him.” With a glance of mingled fury and fear, McKay strode hastily away and buried himself in the woods, and Gandelion turned with a | smile to Gilbertson. The voice was hushed in death. Darromed | ‘*T suspected this ever since the night you } ; were wounded with the poisoned arrow, my One of violence did not sleep the less peacefully | dear sir. The locket you wear fell from your ause he slept in a place where for many neck, and I recognized the face of my cousin Estelle as I remembered her when you married her. Your own words have come true at last: night is ended and day is coming on.” ‘You tell the truth, Gandelion, and I, as Gilbertson, repeat the advice which Gilbert the Guide, gave you on the banks of the Miami. My consent you need not ask, for it is given already, and I find I have gained a daughter only to lose her to you. Morena?” ‘‘Her nameis Clara, husband,” said Estelle. ‘* Keep that for state days. I imagine that Gandelion will always call her by the name under which he knew and loved her. I know that she loves you, Herbert, and I am happy in her choice.” “And I,” said Estelle, placing her daugh- ter’s hand in Herbert’s. ‘‘ Cherish ber, Gan- delion, for she has a true and noble heart.” ‘*) do not intend to leave you,” said Gande- lion: ‘‘On the contrary, I will take up land near your owr, wherever you may abide, and we will labor to build up in the wilderness a ate young State, to add to the galaxy of stars in this young but glorious flag.” **Let this be a‘day of happiness,” added Gil- bertson. ‘Clinton, Iam not the man to in- terfere with the wishes of my daughter. You had won her love long ago, and I bope it will be the same as before, and no man better choose his sons-in-law.”” I hope you two will be steadfast friends,” ‘‘We shall,” said Herbért, extendirg his hand to Clintoh Waterman, ‘At least 1 hope so “*Tt shall not be my fault if we are not,” re- plied Clinton, pressing his hand. ‘““Huroo!” cried Pat. ‘* More power til ivery wan, and good luck go wid ye.” “ Will you f° with mé, Pat?” said Gilbertson. ‘““Wherever I have a home I will see that you are provided for,” ““T’ll folly ye,” eried Pat, ‘‘ while I’ve a fut to goan.” They pushed out the light schooner from the Shore and sailed away for Miami. Next day — joined the army of Wayne, and remained with it until a party started for the Ohio. Owasco had remained with them until now, but here he bade the friend of many years good-by. i “| have not many words,” he said, as he caught Gilbertson’s hand and laid it upon his heart. “You will be very ha , and will not care to walk the woods. Sometimes Owasco will come and look: upon your happiness, and his heart will be glad. With these words he was gone, and for man months they did not see his Das again. Gilbe son took up his old land upon the Ohio, the title of which he had not lost, and in this now smiling land, with his dear wife, sat down to live a life that atoned for past sorrows. When the autumn leaves were falling there was merrymaking at the farm-house, and a double wedding. The youth and maidens of the country, far and near, came one and all, and puzzled themselves to decide which of the two brides looked most lovely. No longer roaming the woods, the complexion of Morena became nearly as fair as that of Helen, and it was hard for a stranger to tell them apart- The solemn words were said, and these, who one suffered together, were made happy at Handy Pat, now the Gilbertsons’ -hand man, were in so much peach b y as to become inebriated, but was pardoned the of- re aoa occasion. ajor Carlyon was at the wedd a noble org nae man, not yet quite reconttlod to the — loss of his daughter. The clergyman was in the midst of the ser- vice when there was a stir at the door, and Owasco, travel-stained and jaded, stood before them. With the natural politeness of the In- dian he said nothing, but kept his place near the door until the ceremony was over, before he greeted his old friends. As soon as Gilbertson was at liberty he hur- ried to meet the Onondaga, and their strong hands met in a gripe which told how joyful was the meeting. ‘‘Gilbert has not forgotten,” said the Onon- daga, his face lighting up. ‘‘Itis well, and E am content. I am going to the distant West, and you may never look upon my face again, and I could not go without seeing the faces which have looked kindly on me. Good-by, one and all.” He waved his hand with a mute but touching gesture of farewell, and was gone, and they never saw him more. McKay kept out of the reach of Gandelion, who was forced to forego the pleasure of pull- ing his nose. It was not until some time after that they understood why he had wished to marry Helen, when a great fortune fell to Mrs. Gilbertson which had lain without an heir for some time. Then they became satisfied that McKay knew this, and that Darromed believed Helen to be the daughter of Gilbertson, Thev never heard orcared to hear of him again, but lived out their bappy lives and helped to build up the great State in which they had suffered so much and so long, | THE END, oeye) COME (E(o)