Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid. Майн Рид

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СКАЧАТЬ One would suppose that her visit to it could scarce fail to be one of the pleasantest recollections of her life. And yet it was not!

      “I have excellent reasons for going,” was the reply she received.

      “Excellent reasons! Do you expect to meet any one there?”

      “My follower Phelim – no one else. I hope the poor fellow is still above the grass. I sent him out about ten days ago – before there was any tidings of these Indian troubles.”

      “Only Phelim you expect to meet? Is it true, Gerald? Dearest! do not deceive me! Only him?”

      “Why do you ask the question, Louise?”

      “I cannot tell you why. I should die of shame to speak my secret thoughts.”

      “Do not fear to speak them! I could keep no secret from you – in truth I could not. So tell me what it is, love!”

      “Do you wish me, Maurice?”

      “I do – of course I do. I feel sure that whatever it may be, I shall be able to explain it. I know that my relations with you are of a questionable character; or might be so deemed, if the world knew of them. It is for that very reason I am going back to the Alamo.”

      “And to stay there?”

      “Only for a single day, or two at most. Only to gather up my household gods, and bid a last adieu to my prairie life.”

      “Indeed!”

      “You appear surprised.”

      “No! only mystified. I cannot comprehend you. Perhaps I never shall!”

      “’Tis very simple – the resolve I have taken. I know you will forgive me, when I make it known to you.”

      “Forgive you, Maurice! For what do you ask forgiveness?”

      “For keeping it a secret from you, that – that I am not what I seem.”

      “God forbid you should be otherwise than what you seem to me – noble, grand, beautiful, rare among men! Oh, Maurice! you know not how I esteem – how I love you!”

      “Not more than I esteem and love you. It is that very esteem that now counsels me to a separation.”

      “A separation?”

      “Yes, love; but it is to be hoped only for a short time.”

      “How long?”

      “While a steamer can cross the Atlantic, and return.”

      “An age! And why this?”

      “I am called to my native country – Ireland, so much despised, as you already know. ’Tis only within the last twenty hours I received the summons. I obey it the more eagerly, that it tells me I shall be able soon to return, and prove to your proud father that the poor horse-hunter who won his daughter’s heart – have I won it, Louise?”

      “Idle questioner! Won it? You know you have more than won it – conquered it to a subjection from which it can never escape. Mock me not, Maurice, nor my stricken heart – henceforth, and for evermore, your slave!”

      During the rapturous embrace that followed this passionate speech, by which a high-born and beautiful maiden confessed to have surrendered herself – heart, soul, and body – to the man who had made conquest of her affections, there was silence perfect and profound.

      The grasshopper amid the green herbage, the cicada on the tree-leaf, the mock-bird on the top of the tall cotton-wood, and the nightjar soaring still higher in the moonlit air, apparently actuated by a simultaneous instinct, ceased to give utterance to their peculiar cries: as though one and all, by their silence, designed to do honour to the sacred ceremony transpiring in their presence!

      But that temporary cessation of sounds was due to a different cause. A footstep grating upon the gravelled walk of the garden – and yet touching it so lightly, that only an acute ear could have perceived the contact – was the real cause why the nocturnal voices had suddenly become stilled.

      The lovers, absorbed in the sweet interchange of a mutual affection, heard it not. They saw not that dark shadow, in the shape of man or devil, flitting among the flowers; now standing by a statue; now cowering under cover of the shrubbery, until at length it became stationary behind the trunk of a tree, scarce ten paces from the spot where they were kissing each other!

      Little did they suspect, in that moment of celestial happiness when all nature was hushed around them, that the silence was exposing their passionate speeches, and the treacherous moon, at the same time, betraying their excited actions.

      That shadowy listener, crouching guilty-like behind the tree, was a witness to both. Within easy earshot, he could hear every word – even the sighs and soft low murmurings of their love; while under the silvery light of the moon, with scarce a sprig coming between, he could detect their slightest gestures.

      It is scarce necessary to give the name of the dastardly eavesdropper. That of Cassius Calhoun will have suggested itself.

      It was he.

      Chapter 33

      A Torturing Discovery

      How came the cousin of Louise Poindexter to be astir at that late hour of the night, or, as it was now, the earliest of the morning? Had he been forewarned of this interview of the lovers; or was it merely some instinctive suspicion that had caused him to forsake his sleeping-chamber, and make a tour of inspection within the precincts of the garden?

      In other words, was he an eavesdropper by accident, or a spy acting upon information previously communicated to him?

      The former was the fact. Chance alone, or chance aided by a clear night, had given him the clue to a discovery that now filled his soul with the fires of hell.

      Standing upon the housetop at the hour of midnight – what had taken him up there cannot be guessed – breathing vile tobacco-smoke into an atmosphere before perfumed with the scent of the night-blooming cereus; the ex-captain of cavalry did not appear distressed by any particular anxiety. He had recovered from the injuries received in his encounter with the mustanger; and although that bit of evil fortune did not fail to excite within him the blackest chagrin, whenever it came up before his mind, its bitterness had been, to some extent, counteracted by hopes of revenge – towards a plan for which he had already made some progress.

      Equally with her father, he had been gratified that Louise was contented of late to stay within doors: for it was himself who had secretly suggested the prohibition to her going abroad. Equally had he remained ignorant as to the motive of that garden archery, and in a similar manner had misconceived it. In fact, he had begun to flatter himself, that, after all, her indifference to himself might be only a feint on the part of his cousin, or an illusion upon his. She had been less cynical for some days; and this had produced upon him the pleasant impression, that he might have been mistaken in his jealous fears.

      He had as yet discovered no positive proof that she entertained a partiality for the young Irishman; and as the days passed without any renewed cause for disquiet, he began to believe that in reality there was none.

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