The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness. Майн Рид

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СКАЧАТЬ living and lovely—in the presence of which the bright sunshine, the forest glories of green and gold, the bird-music among the trees, the flowery aroma in the air, are no longer needed to give grace to the clearing of the squatter. It signifies not that it is a morning in the middle of May: were it the dreariest day of December, the effect would be the same; and this resembles enchantment itself. The rude hut seems at once transformed into a palace—the dead trunks become Corinthian columns carved out of white marble—their stiff branches appear to bend gracefully over, like the leaves of the recurrent acanthus—and the enclosure of carelessly tended maize-plants assumes the aspect of some fair garden of the Hesperides!

      The explanation is easy. Magic is not needed to account for the transformation: since there exists a far more powerful form of enchantment in the divine presence of female beauty. And it is present there, in its distinct varieties of dark and fair—typified in the persons of two young girls who issue forth from the cabin of the squatter: more than typified—completely symbolised—since in these two young girls there appears scarce one point of resemblance, save the possession of a perfect loveliness. The eye of the soaring eagle may not discover their charms—as did the bird of Jove those of the lovely Leda—but no human eye could gaze for a moment on either one, without receiving the impression that it was looking upon the fairest object on earth. This impression could only be modified, by turning to gaze upon the other.

      Who are these young creatures? Sisters?

      There is nothing in their appearance to suggest the gentle relationship. One is tall, dark, and dark-haired, of that golden-brown complexion usually styled brunette. Her nose is slightly aquiline, and her eye of the oblique Indian form. Other features present an Indian character, of that type observable in the nation of the Chicasaws—the former lords of this great forest. She may have Chicasaw blood in her veins; but her complexion is too light for that of a pure Indian.

      Her dress strengthens the impression that she is a sang-mêlé. The skirt is of the common homespun of the backwoods, striped with a yellowish dye; but the green bodice is of finer stuff, with more pretensions to ornament; and her neck and wrists are embraced by a variety of those glancing circlets so seductive in the eyes of an Indian belle. The buskin-mocassin is purely Indian; and its lines of bead-embroidery gracefully adapt themselves to the outlines of feet and ankles of perfect form. The absence of a head-dress is another point of Indian resemblance. The luxuriant black hair is plaited, and coiled like a coronet around the head. There are no combs or pins of gold, but in their place a scarlet plumelet of feathers—from the wings of the red cardinal. This, set coquettishly behind the plaits, shows that some little attention has been given to her toilet; and simple though it be, the peculiar coiffure imparts to the countenance of the maiden that air usually styled “commanding.”

      Although there is nothing masculine in this young girl’s beauty, a single glance at her features impresses you with the idea of a character of no ordinary kind—a nature more resolute than tender—a heart endowed with courage equalling that of a man. The idea is strengthened by observing that in her hand she carries a light rifle; while a horn and bullet-pouch, suspended from her left shoulder, hang under the right arm. She is not the only backwoods’ maiden who may be seen thus armed and accoutred: many are even skilled in the use of the deadly weapon!

      In striking contrast with all this is the appearance of her companion. The impression the eye receives in looking on the latter is that of something soft and beautiful, of a glorious golden hue. It is the reflection of bright amber-coloured hair on a blonde skin, tinted with vermilion imparting a sort of luminous radiance divinely feminine. Scrutinise this countenance more closely; and you perceive that the features are in perfect harmony with each other, and harmonise with the complexion. You behold a face, such as the Athenian fancy has elaborated into an almost living reality in the goddess Cytherea.

      This creature of golden roseate hue is yet very young—scarcely more than a child—but in the blue sky above her burns a fiery sun; and in twelve months she will be a woman.

      Her costume is still more simple than that of her companion: a sleeved dress of the same striped homespun, loosely worn, and open at the breast; her fine amber-coloured hair the only covering for her head—as it is the only shawl upon her shoulders, over which it falls in ample luxuriance. A string of pearls around her neck—false pearls, poor thing!—is the only effort that vanity seems to have made in the way of personal adornment. Even shoes and stockings are wanting; but the most costly chaussure could not add to the elegance of those pretty mignon feet.

      Who are they—these fair flowers of the forest?

      Let the mystery end. They are sisters—though not the children of one mother. They are the daughters of the hunter—the owner of the cabin and clearing—his only children.

      Happy hunter! poor you may be, and your home lowly; it can never be lonely in such companionship. The proudest prince may envy you the possession of two such treasures—beyond parallel, beyond price!

Chapter Two.

       Table of Contents

      Marian and Lilian.

      Passing outward from the door, the two young girls pause in their steps: an object has attracted their attention. A large dog is seen running out from the shed—a gaunt fierce-looking animal, that answers to the very appropriate name of “Wolf.” He approaches the sisters, and salutes them with an unwilling wag of his tail. It seems as though he could not look pleased, even while seeking a favour—for this is evidently the purpose that has brought him forth from his lair.

      He appeals more especially to the older of the girls—Marian.

      “Ho, Wolf! I see your sides are thin, old fellow: you want your breakfast! What can we give him, Lil?”

      “Indeed, sister, I know not: there is nothing for the poor dog.”

      “There is some deer-meat inside?”

      “Ah! I fear father will not allow Wolf to have that. I heard him say he expected one to take dinner with him to-day? You know who?”

      An arch smile accompanies this half-interrogatory; but, for all that, the words do not appear to produce a pleasant effect. On the contrary, a shade is observable on the brow of her to whom they are addressed.

      “Yes, I do know. Well, he shall not dine with me. ’Tis just for that I’ve brought out my rifle. To-day, I intend to make my dinner in the woods, or go without, and that’s more likely. Never fear, Wolf! you shall have your breakfast; whether I get my dinner or not. Now, for the life of me, Lil, I don’t know what we can give the poor brute. Those buzzards are just within range. I could bring one of them down; but the filthy creatures, ugh! even a dog won’t eat them.”

      “See, sister! yonder is a squirrel. Wolf will eat squirrels, I know: but, ah! it’s a pity to kill the little creature.”

      “Not a bit. Yon little creature is a precious little thief; it’s just been at our corn-crib. By killing it, I do justice in a double sense: I punish the thief, and reward the good dog. Here goes!”

      The squirrel, scared from its depredation on the corn, sweeps nimbly over the ground towards the nearest tree. Wolf having espied it, rushes after in headlong pursuit. But it is a rare chance indeed when a dog captures one of these animals upon the ground; and Wolf, as usual, is unsuccessful.

      He СКАЧАТЬ