Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 22 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

. Whitelaw, quietly. | secrets are not. like thine.’ 8 “T’m not!—I’m not!” retorted Raiph, smil- ing and shrugging his shoulders. “No man knows better than [ what those gray hairs con- ceal.”” “ Have you—” “T have!” said Ralph, with a sneer. . ‘Well, it’s of little consequence,” answered “T am what I am, and my “T ask them not—lI care not to know them. Our life-lines. run not parallel. We may be friends; we may be deadly enemies.” “Something tells ‘ve that we are the last,” | returned Whitelaw. “T know not. how that may be, but there's a bond between us.” ‘“ A bond ?” ‘Yes, a bond! noticed the changes of your face—the softness that was on_ it. thalia, and you can’t deny it,” “1 cannot—I will not; neither do I wish to,” replied Whitelaw, impressively. “She is as much an angel as thou art a—” “A devil, you would add. Come, come! don’t be too hard and bitter. You have little rofeg? to push me so roughly to the wall. You abuse the confidence that I haye placed in you. I trusted you freely with my niece. I saw you sitting by her, without a fear; even with pleas- ure, satisfied that you were plensed with each other. It was no common privilege that I gave you.” “There is truth in that, certainly. On this point you have the advantage, I admit, The irl is a sweet flower. I fear, [ tremble for her. er pee?) life, her appearance here, the rela- tionship between her and you, are to me inex- plicable mysteries. [ would snatch her from this solitude; I would save her from evil, and from you. Such are my feelings; I spedk them frankly ; make much or liftle of it,” “It's best to be plain,” responded Ralph, after a short pause. “It’s always best to under- stand matters at the beginning. Look upon me as you will; as villain or honest man ; te opiniou will not affect me a straw, if you keep it to yourself, and walk your own side of the Cat You are free, for aught I care, to see Nathalia as a friend; but I warn you not to press her too much with questions, The mo- ment you meddle with what I choose to have concealed, you can come no more ; some morn- ing you'll find the hut vacant and the bird flown. Let us once flit, and you may hunt the world over in yain to discover our new nest. Under- stand that, Whitelaw.” With these words, Ralph Quimby turned his back upon Whitelaw, and moved rapidly away. CHAPTER VII. A PROMISE CLAIMED. Left alone, Nathalia arose, feeling betty for the ministrations of her new friend. She could not help thinking how much he differed from those with whom ebe had come in contact of late years. A strange attraction drew her to- ward him. H« awoke different emotions from those produced by the young manhood of Ber- nard Ross. Her instincts assured her that she could trust Whitelaw. How unlike were both these fromm those with whom she had been brought ia daily association | A ‘ght of rest and conscious security had done wuch to restore her; she was physically strong and mentally hopeful; but her fear of Ralph was in no wise lessened. The desire to escape from him had attained additional strength. Where should she fly? Who would befriend her? She would trust in Providence. She was sure it would be right to free herself from the terrible guardianship of Quimby. She knew she had nothing in common with a@ per- son subject to such frightful moods. She left the hut. Finding a pool of water, she looked at her reflected Since on its surface, and was startled. Her hair hung disordered about her face ; she was pale, and her garments were torn and stained. Bernard Ross—Whitelaw had told her his name—should see her in that wretched plight! The thought was involunta- ry, but natural to a young girl. While she stood edtenipfating her mournful shadow in the water, the bushes stirred and the mad boy, Owen, appeared. “Do you like day better than night?” he ask- ed. ‘Do you love to see your face in the wa- ter? Do you see shadows when the sun shines ?” ! “What brings you here, Owen? What do you come for?’ answered Nathalia, “ Owen's devil told him where to find you, A ~ him. I watched you last night, I our heart was drawn to Na-| tell him things like Owen has. ee Owen’s devil knows everything. I could tell you ever so much; but I won’t. What will ou do, now? It’s dark down in the pit, isn’t it? How cold the water was! It sha’n’t’ be done again; Owen won't let him come near ou.” at Poor boy !” said Nathalia. * Poor Nattie, too!” “Poor as the poorest,” murmured the girl, sadly. “Do you s’pose, Nattie, that the sun ’ll set the frees on fire? It heats the water of the lake sometimes. "Tisn’t so hot as the light ning, though. Let us go, Nattie; let us go.” ‘*Go where ?” asked Nathalia. “T don’t care; anywhere to get away from It’s so dreadful, you know, to see and hear him. Ah ha! he’s a eunning fox; but you and I can outwit him. He's got nobody to Aren’t you afraid he'll push you again? Let him push you if he dare !” “How strangely you talk!” The boy’s wild, handsome eyes glittered up- on her; they gleamed with a preternatural light. “es Ciome, Nattie, come!” he went on. “ You ar. tu walk with me ; we are‘to go far—far for yon, because your feet are tender and your limbs are not strong. But Owen is like @ pan- ther; he can ran all day like the wolf, and nev- er, never weary. Those who eall Owen a fool, ur6 the greatest fools.” “T will go, Owen, I will go! Only take me to? a place where I shall never see Ralph again, and I will be content; I will believe that heav- en has sent you.” “T’ll take you, pretty one, where the dogs can’t find you; where a starvin’ wolf couldn’t scent you out. Owen’s devil is eunnin’.” “What do you mean by Owen’s devil ?” in- quired Nathalia. The boy put his finger on his lips and smil- ed; then looking around him cautiously, an- swered : “That is a secret! I don’t’ tell all I know; if I did, I should be the fool silly people call me. This way—this way. Follow, follow, fol- low !” : ‘‘Owen struck into the forest where the trees were nearest together and the foliage most abundant. He started off on a half-run; Na- thalia found it impossible to keep up with him, Not so fast, Owen—not so fast. Remember that Tam a girl, and not so swift of foot as you.” “ Then I will go slow. I can god both easy and soft. I can run like a colt, or creep like an Indian on the trail. When you weary, you shall sit down and rest. When your little feet ean’t walk, Owen will carry you. You don’t know how strong I am!” He moderated his pace, choosing the most accessible places, removing sticks from her path, holding aside bushes, and giving her every at- tention in his power. The hut was left behind ; and guided by the youth, she threaded the si-' lent aisles of.\he forest. “ Sit down,” said Owen, pointing to a little knoll; “sit down, and don’t be afraid. The’ dark-lookin’ man can’t find you here. Owen will come back again.” | “ Don’t leave me! don’t leave me!’’ said Na-~ thalia. It’s foolish to fear ! care of you. Ah, ha! ah, hal think ofthat, did you ?” The youth ran a few steps and came back. “He says I must hide you. Here’s a spot. Come, pretty one, creep under this eedar; the trunk will make a chair for your back, and the roots are & cushioned seat of moss. There! isn’tit nice and shady, and such a smell of thie forest? I pull the boughs over you in this way. Now you are covered. Ralph might walk all around you and not see ye. Mad boys know a great deal! Folks don’t get the better of Owen.” “T fear, good youth, that you'll go away and forget me. Your brain is unsteady, you know, and so many strange things go whirling through it,” said Nathalia, anxiously. “My brain,” answered Owen, placing a fin- ger on his ferehead, “is right | You never saw a brain so right. I know every rod of the Ten Mile Trace. I could walk all over it in the darkest night, without falling into the mines, or being devoured by the wolf or catamount. I peer find my way to the lake shore with my eyes blinded, if you should set me down in the middle of the woods and turn me round a score of times. I could guide you to Montreal, to the Indian country, to the border-settlements, or Owen’s devil will take You didn’t The New York Library. orem far, far away where the white hunters trap: for the beaver. We can cross to the great river on the other side of the lake, or strike the great trail of the wagon-trains that go up where the Mormons live. Never you féar my brain, Nat- tie! What I don’t know, my whisperer will tel; me.” . Owen laughed softly, shook his finger ¢un ningly, and darted away. The solitude was op- ressive to Nathalia. She felt painfully her iso lation and helplessness. The thought, howev: er, that she was escaping from Raljh, served t« console her. To be sure, she had some anxiety about the return of Owen, but placed sufficient confidence in the lad's faithfulness to keep her self measurably assured. She heard his return- ing steps. No, she did not; they were too -heavy and’ shuffling. She was glad she did not leave her hiding-place, in obedience to her first impulse. Although perfectly conéealed from observations, she could not help quaking ‘a: lit- tle ds the sounds drew nearer. Peering from her cedar canopy, she saw Ralph Quimby and ‘Nat Stratton approaching. The latter walked slowly, as if suffering from the wound he had received on that dark and terrible night!—the scenes of which were so deeply impressed in her memory. She heard him say: “You put me off and put me off, till I’m tired on’t! Why. don’t you say what you will and won’t do? ‘That's my way.” “T don’t feel like parting with her yet,” an- swered Ralph, stopping wita his face toward Nathalia’s covert, who feared that his ferret- eyes had already diseovered her. “I can’t get along without a housekeeper. She isn’t exnet- ly the right kind for you, Nat; you're a trifle too coarse for her. She’d do very wel! for me,” “For you ?” retorted Stratton, ‘]t’s agin the Jaw! One can’t marry his niece.” , “* Law don’t get up so far as this! However, [ said nothing about marrying the girl.” Nathalia shuddered, She never felt so much horror of Ralph Quimby. Stratton stood staring at him with a dark and sullen expression, ‘‘ What do you think of the young fellow that called at the hut the other night?” asked Ralph. “He's a bold, energetic youngster, and if I know anything of human nature, he took a deep and sudden fancy to Nattie. What do you say to him as a rival, Stratton?” Ralph looked covertly at his comrade. The effect of his question was instantaneous. A fi- fle was slung at his back; he unslung it, and lanting the breech violeutly on the ground, he eaned over the muzzle, and glaring steadily in- to Quimby’s face, exclaimed : “ Pll have no rivals! Neither you, nor young Ross, nor Whitelaw, nor anybody else!” ‘Whitelaw !” repeated Ralph, starting. “ Ay!” growled Stratton. “A man with white hair!” laughed Ralph. “He's not so old but he might be older,” said Stratton, with peculiar significance. “A bargain’s a bargain, Ralph Quimby. I shared the golden seeret with ye on the strength of your promise; and no longer ago than night before last, I got a bullet through my neck, within half an inch of my jugulars, in tryin’ to keep it'from that wanderin’, peerin’ young ras- cal, called Ross. I tell ye, Ralph (he struck his horny right hand on the muzzle of his rifle), “you shan’t cheat me! And as for rivals, I sear to ye I'll shoot every one of ’em!” The miner's eyes looked dangerous. Ralph thrust his head toward him, and said, in a eléar, low voice: “ Begin with Ross, then !” There was murder in those tones. “By heavens, I will!” eried Stratton, striking his weapon still more energetically upon the earth. ‘ But mark me” (he laid a rough finger on the back of Quimby s-hand), “I won't stop there, if need be! Do you know what that means ?” There was a brief silence, “That's my way !” The manner in which the man prononnced these simple words, made them mean much. “ And a decisive way it is,’ responded Ralph, raising his shoulders. “You needn’t remind me of anything that’s passed between us, Strat- ton, for my memory is tolerably good; although the secret wasn’t so much of a secret as it aiecht have been ; for I was on thie trail, you know? Besides, old friends ought to divide.” “ Bah! = wouldn't, if you’d discovered a vein of gold as big as Missouri River! I’m not so l’arned as you be; but I'm no fool! Don't you ever buy me, Ralph Quimby, for a fool.” “ Your business,” answered Ralph, coolly and measuredly, and with an indescribable glance of the eye, “is witl the fellow called Rosa l” GOMIIEVOOKS ee ee * “tee