Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 22 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

Whitelaw. 7 Nathajia saw Kalph’s face peering from behind a tree close at hand, “I believe I got a fall,” she said. ‘ The thunder and lightning terrified me.” “ Yes, it was a fall!’ answered Whitelaw, in a low voice. “The young man and I traced ye to where you fell. I hope it was a fair fall; od knows I hope it was a fair fall!” He regarded her with keen earnestness. “All this is very singular,” he said, anon. “Was he with you?” “Washe? Yes—yes—he—he saved me!” She stagvered, touched her forehead faintly. “ Yes—I think he—he saved me.’’ Then, in a whisper: “ Speak low. We are watched. He drew me out”—in her natural voice. “I am muddy—am I not? What a fright! I have not lovked at myself Lefore.” “ What is your name, my child?” he asked, vely. 4 Nathalia,” “Nathalia? Is that all ?” “Is it not enough? I havenoother. Ihave been called Nathalia and Nattie from childhood.” “Tt is a pretty title; but people usually have a surname,” returned Whitelaw, with a faint smile. “You can call me Nattie of the woods, or Nattie of the Ten Mile Trace, or the girl of the forest, if one name be not enough.” “Or the girl of the sorrowfal figure!” he added, running his eyes over her person. Nathalia, by a stolen glance, assured herself that Ralph was still listening. “ Nathalia or Nattie, or Nattie of the woods— it matters little which,” answered W hitelaw, in a kindly voice, “I feel tly interested in you. If I have the power, FT should like to do you good. I may be wrong, but I have the feel: that you live the life of a martyr.” “ Lower! lower!” murmured Nattie. “When my eyes first rested on your beauti- ful face, girl, I conceived a liking for you. I wanted to give you my hand in friendship.” “Tt was kind of you, indeed!” She turned her large eyes upon Whitelaw. ‘“ Your face looks friendly. I do not fear you as I do Ralph and his companions.” 2 “How long have you been with Ralph, my \ehitd y? — “Along, longtime! But we have not always lived here. Will you come to me again ?”’ ‘*] mix not much with human creatures,” he repliod, absently. “I fear I am not one to please the young; but I dare say a will see me again. You are very weak and faint; you must go into the hut; you must lie down and rest.” He put his arm tenderly around Nathalia, who was ready to sink with exhaustion, and sup- ported her to her humble couch in the hut, laid her upon it, covered her gently with the blank- et. While he was thus employed, Ralph Quim- by entered. He looked sharply at the counte- nance of each, then calling an amiable expres- gion to his own, said: “I thank you, sir, for this kindness to my niece. The poor girl got a fright last night. She fell into one of the copper-mines, but luck- ily it was two-thirds full of water. She got a wetting, but came up like a duck, and clung to a stick of timber, which kept her afloat till I could draw her out. It was a dangerous piece of business. theugh, going down after her.” “T should think so,” replied Whitelaw, dryly: “How do you find yourself, Nattie?” added Ralph, without noticing the quiet irony of the remark. “Quite comfortable, I hope.” Then to White- law; “I don’t know what I should do without the girl. The solitary life of a miner would kill me, I think.” “No doubt,” answered Whitelaw, biting his lips. Then, with a strong effort to be agreea- ble, he added: “Have you lived long on the lake shore, Mr. Quimby ?” “ Longer than I wish I had, though I’ve made a little in the mines. I’ve had my streaks of luck, like other people. Mining is profitable, »when you get a good lead and know how to work ing ( Ralph glanced from Whitelaw to Nattie, and from the latter back to the former. He wished to know what their thoughts were. “ T have heard rumors of diggings richer than copper,” remarked Whitelaw, carelessly. “Let me give my niece a little of this broth. You'll agree with me that she needs it. You observe a pale jine around her mouth. It’s a curious circumstance, but she always has that eircle while she’s ill.” “I eee it plainly,” said Whitelaw, quickly, “Tt isn't a good sign; it indicates suffering.” | thoughtful face near her, and the man Ralph He laid his hand lightly on Nattie’s brow. She apparently sleeping soundly by the fire. So the had closed her eyes; she opened themandsmil- night drifted on with Nattie. ed when she felt the touch. The soul of White-— ae! law was drawn toward her. | CHAPTER VI. ‘“‘T was so excited after extricating my niece PLAIN DEALING. from the shaft—so excited with joy at finding | Whitelaw and Ralph walked from the hut to- her alive, that I really did not know which way gether in the morning. The former was grave I went; and in the darkness mistook the way. | and silent; but the latter was disposed to be I stumbled upon this deserted hut by the merest eommunicative. accident. asn’t it singular?” “ What do you think of her?” he asked, in- “It was, truly !’’ responded Whitelaw. differertly. “Ah, sir! if you knew Nattie of the lake “Of whom ?” said Whitelaw, absently. shore |” “Of the girl; of my niece,” answered Ralph. Ralphed stopped suddenly. “‘T believe she will recover from the shock.” “ What, sir?’ asked Whitelaw, abruptly. * Shock ?” “You'd do as everybody else does that sees “Yes; the shock of the fall.” her; you’d love her; and that’s all about it. The parties stopped, as by mutual consent, What’s the use concealing things? Ibelieve in | and looked at each other. honesty—don’t you ?” | “A wonderful young girl is Nathalia,” said Nathalia heard all this. She sighed, raised | Ralph. “I’ve had a great deal of anxiety, first her darkly-fringed lids a little, wht considered | and last, on her account. She’s too beautiful, the countenance of Ralph Quimby. She won- | you see, not to attract attention even in this dered and doubted. She had better not have | wilderness. Many have tried to please her, but doubted. His eyes were fastened on her; his | they were not men of her heart, nor mine. head had a slightly-oscillating motion to and | There was Nat Stratton, who took a liking to from her. She shut him from her vision as | her, and has troubled me a long time with his quickly as possible, for she felt his power. _ | askings.” “You are very happy together—you and “A ruffian! Why do you speak of such a your uncle!” observed Vhitelaw, pay creature in connection with Nathalia?” Ralph half arose from the block on which he “To show you how I’m bothered, and what had seated himself, and slowly settled back | anxieties I have about her. You think ’ma again. man of no heart, I s’pose, with less love for Nat- “ He. must answer that,” replied Nathalia. —_—_| tie than for a Sotthd of copper ore,” returned “Tt gave her a cruel shock. Do you think | Ralph, deprecatingly. there is any fever, stranger?” said Ralph, eva- “Tt is time that I should speak,” said White- sively. ‘1 wonder if this hut wi!l shed rain,” law, with sternness. “I have kept silent long “It has,” said Whitelaw. “I have passed | enough. I demand some explanation of the many dry nights within it when it was wet out- | scene I surprised in your hut? Nay, start not side.” nor scowl! You attempted to take human life. “ Perhaps it’s yours? I didn’t stop to trou- | There is murder in your heart, if not on your ble myself about such matters, you understand ; | hands, I hate assassins and villains. Exeulpate I took the first shelter that offered.”’ ourself, if you can. For a few moments I will “Jt is mine; but for her sake, you are wel- | listen to you. Do not stop to coin falsehoods ; come to it. I would sleep on the ground in @ the simple truth will serve you far better.” winter's night to give her shelter” A dead silence followed. This diversion was “ There’s room for all; stay. Nattie, bid him | manifestly as sudden as it was embarrassing. Ou — —— —— stay.”’ | “I’m not to be catechised by any man,” an- | Nathalia did not speak ; she simvly held out gwered Quimby, deliberately. “ Nobody ean her hand. Se compel me todo athing against my will. I'll “I thought so,” said Ralpn, with a smile. tell ye what happened, of my own accord, and Now it happened that Nathalia was lookin at not on compulsion. Nat Stratton had some him at the moment, and noticed that smile. She | words with Neil Travis, the young man that you thought she saw a demon leering from his eyes. | found insensible on the floor, with a hatmmer She regretted giving Whitclaw her hand; not peside him, which soon grew to violent alterea- for the simple act itself, but for the effect it tion, ending in blows. Stratton drew his knife seemed to have upon Quimby. | and used it, though I told him not to. Travis As for Whitelaw, he appeared to Know every- | was wounded in several places. We thought he thing without taking the slightest trouble of ob- | wa, dead, and hearing some one at the door, servation. concealed the body under the bed. You saw “This hut was built by my hands of the un- | the fellow who interrupted us?” bought and cheapest productions of nature. It | «Veg; his name is Ross.” required but trifling labor to fix these poles in | “T don’t care. what hie hame is! Ill be the ground, join them at the top, and cover | watched and robbed by no man!” . | them with bark and boughs. My greatest ene- “ Watched ?—robbed ?” interposed Whitelaw, my — if I have an enemy — should be wel- quickly. come to it, if his necessities or misfortunes made “Ay! he came to dog us, and steal our te- him need it.” crets, if we had any. Haven’t I seen him track- Raph guarded his expression, but the lustrous ing us from day?. Hasn’t he scented us like a eyes of Nathalia were on him | dog? Hasn't he kindled his fire every night “T have wee homes, Ralph Quimby—that | witiin rifle-shot of mines or miners ?” is your name, I believe—think not, therefore, « Every man has a right to seek for copper or that I value this. It derives its present value | for gold, the same as for the wild game that runs from the fact that it shelters this innocent head, through the woods. His white hand trembled over the white forehead “But not to the harm of another man. He of Nathalia. ‘“IcomeandI go; I haveneither | who gteals my secret is a robber. He takes times nor seasons. I seek but solitude and for- | away my bread and my meat. He robs me, and getfulness. I go where impulse leads me. It | he robs Nattie. And,” added Ralph, striking Be BERN a Pee nary Mae cece wherever I find him! Ay! I say it, and TP oo her; it et eee ne she des ae it! You needn't talk to me about “ytete and am a man of few words, of much thought. | grime, and all that ; ans of living is my Suffering has made me wise insome things. Ex- | fe. He ane eee. Tie: de m support takes pect me not, but always feel that Iam not far | f,9m me my flesh, and my blood, and my bones ; off,” Pu no thant” diawered Ralnb. with « and I'll kill him as I sha tM ie Bh slight frown. “ I didn’t know but you'd feel an ugh ley y Justa’ Pree: wry tale z ’ a l. ; knowledge of roots and herbs and the nursing marr Et ie 7 7 it,” he said, abruptly. such tender plants require.” “On this subj ct, as on many others, we never Ralph arose and left the hut in apparent | .)9)) think slike.“ shall Ad Neil Travis, anger. Whitelaw sat by Nathalia’s couch till | .j ould I again meet him, if this tale of yours be the sun went down—through the dark hours of | true, It is more than probable that you and J, the night till the glorious orb came up again in | Ralph Quimby, shail not part now for the last the morning. He kept the fire burning right- | time. I’m danycrous, if trifled with; harm! <s ly; he watehed her slumbers ; his careful eyes | ifletalone. My present estimate of your en... did not le nor weary, and his ministrations | goter jg low indeed. | do, I am free to confess, were as en e ag & woman's. regard You as a most exeerable villain! Na . Nathalia’s mind fluctuated between darkness don't — your hand on your knife, for, ph “f and lucidity, She talked but little. Whenever | eally, Iam your master. Don’t be deceived b her weary eyea unclosed, ahe saw a kindly and these gray hairs, Ralph,” : J Eomichbooks. co ;