Instantly, and with great precision, the savages stepped forward and stacked their weapons. These men had been for weeks drilled by their young leader, and were quick to learn. Philip guided his horse through the bristling weapons, and rode up to Barbara, where she sat pale with excitement and thrilled with vague terror.
"Lady," he said, "can you forgive the use to which I have applied your bounty? During all these years, I have been h.o.a.rding up the gold of which you were so lavish, for this purpose alone--"To free his father"s people, Philip consented to be a beggar after he ceased to work as a slave.""
"Great heavens! and have I done this?" cried Barbara, violently agitated. "G.o.d forgive me if my kind intent leads to bloodshed."
"It shall lead a brave people to freedom! Oh, lady, regret nothing that you have done. Never on the earth did gold perform a more holy work."
Barbara made no answer: she was appalled into silence by what she saw and heard.
Philip took hold of her bridle-rein gently, and turned her horse from the lake.
"Let the warriors see your face, lady," he said: "dangerous times are coming on and it is well that they should know to whom their protection is promised."
Barbara made no resistance, but she trembled on her saddle. As her horse stood side by side with that of Philip on the mound, a crowd of dusky faces was uplifted to hers, and she grew pale under the wild light of a thousand burning eyes that seemed piercing her like arrows.
"Braves," said Philip, and his voice sounded full and clear as a trumpet, "look upon this lady, and remember that so long as a man of our tribe lives she is his charge. The white man may yet become her foe as he is ours. She may be driven into the woods, as other women have been, but I charge you, wherever she is found, in forest or settlement, obey her and guard her as if she were a prophet of our people."
The groan of approval that followed this speech swelled almost into a shout, and went rolling off into the forest like the smothered howl of wild beasts.
Terrified and distressed, Barbara pleaded with the young chief to send her away. Her face was white, her lips trembled as she spoke. She was completely overcome by the shock of this unexpected scene.
"Braves," cried Philip, standing up in his stirrups, "on this spot, where he was born, Metacomet has kindled his first great council-fire: light your pipes and smoke while he rides with this lady on her way through the woods, and let no man forget that from this hour she is a daughter of our tribe."
Again that hoa.r.s.e, growl-like shout answered as he wished, and while it swelled along her path Barbara rode from the encampment, followed by Wahpee and accompanied by Philip. During all the waning night he kept by her side, and she made no protest. The wild grandeur of the scene she had left still impressed her with awe to which she could give no words, and a ride of so many hours had almost exhausted her strength when she came to the encampment. An hour before dawn Philip left her and rode back to the beacon fire at her own urgent request.
The first flush of morning was scattering rose leaves in the east and turning the far-off waves to liquid opals when Barbara came in sight of Samuel Parris"s dwelling. She would have dismounted within the shelter of the trees, but was so overcome with fatigue that it seemed impossible for her to walk across the open s.p.a.ce that lay in front of the meeting-house. But old Wahpee drew up his horse, and motioned obstinately that he intended to go no farther.
"But what shall I do with the horse?" questioned the lady, wearily.
"Turn him loose: he will know Wahpee"s call," answered the Indian.
Barbara rode on, so worn and weary that she could hardly keep her saddle.
Elizabeth Parris was looking out of her bedroom window and marvelled at the strange apparition of her father"s guest on a horse which she had never seen before; but t.i.tuba pa.s.sed the threshold of her room that moment, and she turned to answer some question that the old woman asked.
While she was so occupied Barbara descended from her horse. Scarcely had her foot touched the ground when the creature heard a shrill whistle from Wahpee and bounded off to the woods. When Elizabeth looked out of the window a few moments after, Barbara Stafford was walking slowly toward the house, but there was no sign of the white horse; at which the young girl drew her breath painfully, and sunk to a chair shocked with an awful dread.
"t.i.tuba! t.i.tuba!"
The old woman, who was half-way down-stairs, came back again, alarmed by that sharp cry.
"t.i.tuba, you told me that Mistress Barbara Stafford was ill and wished to be left alone."
"So she is," answered the old woman, entering the room and closing the door after her.
"But I saw her just now."
"Saw her, Miss Lizzybeth!" answered the Indian, listening keenly to a rustling sound that came from the stairs. "Saw her! why everybody is asleep in the house. What did you get up for, child?"
"Oh, t.i.tuba, I am so restless! There is something strange, terrible, going on in this house. What is the matter with Abby? What keeps this woman here when n.o.body wants her? Is she truly ill? When did you see her last?"
"This very morning," a.s.serted t.i.tuba, who had in truth seen Barbara near the door, and now heard her moving in the back room.
Elizabeth leaned her head on one hand as if some distressing thought pained her.
"Strange! strange!" she muttered.
"Do you want me any longer?" asked the Indian still listening keenly.
"No. Yes, t.i.tuba, don"t go down yet. Where is Abby?"
"In bed and sound asleep."
"How can she sleep away from me? Oh, t.i.tuba! t.i.tuba! I am so lonesome."
t.i.tuba went close to her young mistress, and kneeling down received that drooping head on her shoulder.
"Come close, t.i.tuba. Oh, how I want my mother now!"
This cry of nature touched old t.i.tuba"s heart, but she had no words.
Elizabeth lifted her face and searched those withered features with her beautiful eyes.
"t.i.tuba, just as sure as I live, Barbara Stafford sat out yonder on a white horse only a little while ago. The horse vanished. Then I saw her on foot near the door," she said wildly. "What does it mean? What can it mean?"
The old woman made vague efforts to caress the girl, but said nothing.
At last Elizabeth sprang to her feet.
"Are you speaking truth, t.i.tuba?" she exclaimed, "or am I bewitched?"
The last words of this sentence were uttered in a whisper: even the word witchcraft was full of awe to that young heart. Then, struck with a sudden resolution, she flung the door open. "I will see for myself! I will see for myself!"
She went out into the pa.s.sage, opened the door of Barbara Stafford"s room and stole in on tip-toe, holding her breath. Barbara Stafford was in bed--sound asleep. The moment her head touched that pillow she had fallen into the death-like slumber which follows extreme fatigue. Her garments lay in a heap on the floor, save the scarlet cloak, which hung in its usual place against the wall.
CHAPTER x.x.xIII.
ALL OR NOTHING.
The third week after Samuel Parris"s return from Boston, Norman Lovel arrived at his house. When we first met this young man he had the face of an angel and the impulsive manners of a child; even then he possessed a depth and earnestness of feeling which only broke out when the occasion was important enough to draw forth high and brave qualities.
But a few weeks of thoughtful experience had changed him greatly. He had all at once taken a leap into manhood. The bloom and grace of extreme youth had risen into the calm dignity of quiet self-reliance. This was a result most likely to follow the young man"s intimate companionship with a woman like Barbara Stafford, who always gave to others the self-respect which never forsook herself.
When Elizabeth saw the young man coming, she forgot all coldness, and uttering a joyful cry, ran into the little garret room, where Abby Williams sat brooding over her thoughts.
"Oh, Abby! dear, dear Abby! he has come! Norman is here! Run and look at him as he dismounts. Then say if he is not the brightest, the handsomest--oh, do come!"