The Trapper's Daughter Part 62

"Oh, my mother, my good mother! How did she come hither? Oh, I must run to see her."

"Here she is," said Curumilla.

The Araucano, at the first word uttered by Unicorn, guessing the pleasure he should cause his friend, had gone, without saying a word, to seek Madame Guillois, whom anxiety kept awake, though she was far from suspecting that her son was near her.

"My child!" the worthy woman said, as she pressed him to her heart.

After the first emotion had pa.s.sed over, Valentine took his mother's arm in his, and led her gently back to the calli.

"You are not wise, mother," he said, with an accent of reproach. "Why did you leave the village? The season is advanced, it is cold, and you do not know the deadly climate of the prairies; your health is far from strong, and I wish you to nurse yourself. I ask you to do so, not for yourself but for me. Alas! What would become of me, were I to lose you!"

"My dear child," the old lady replied, tenderly. "Oh! How happy I am to be thus loved. What I experience at present amply repays all the suffering your absence occasioned me. I implore you to let me act as I like; at my age, a woman should not calculate on a morrow. I will not separate far from you again; let me, at any rate, have the happiness of dying in your arms, if I am not permitted to live."

Valentine regarded his mother attentively. These ill-omened words struck him to the heart. He was frightened by the expression of her face, whose pallor and extreme tenuity had something fatal about it. Madame Guillois perceived her son's emotion, and smiled sadly.

"You see," she said, gently, "I shall not be a burden to you long; the Lord will soon recall me to him."

"Oh, speak not so, mother. Dismiss those gloomy thoughts. You have, I hope many a long day to pa.s.s by my side."

The old lady shook her head, as aged persons do when they fancy themselves certain of a thing.

"No weak illusions, my son," she said, in a firm voice; "be a man--prepare yourself for a speedy and inevitable separation. But promise me one thing."

"Speak, mother."

"Whatever may happen, swear not to send me away from you again."

"Why, mother, you order me to commit a murder. In your present state you could not lead my mode of life for two days."

"No matter, my son, I will not leave you again: take the oath I demand of you."

"Mother!" he said, hesitating.

"You refuse me, my son!" she exclaimed, in pain.

Valentine felt almost heart-broken; he had not the courage to resist longer.

"Well," he murmured, sorrowfully, "since you insist, mother, be it so; I swear that we shall never be separated again."

A flush of pleasure lit up the poor old lady's face, and for a moment she looked happy.

"Bless you, my son," she said. "You render me very happy by granting what I ask."

"Well," he said, with a stifled sigh, "it is you who wish it, mother: your will be done, and may Heaven not punish me for having obeyed you.

Now it is my turn to ask; as henceforth the care of your health concerns me alone."

"What do you want?" she said, with an ineffable smile.

"I wish you to take a few hours' indispensable rest, after your fatigues of the day."

"And you, dear child?"

"I shall sleep too, mother; for if today has been fatiguing, tomorrow will be equally so; so rest in peace, and feel no anxiety on my account."

Madame Guillois tenderly embraced her son, and threw herself on the bed prepared for her by Sunbeam's care. Valentine then left the calli, and rejoined his friends, who were reposing round a fire lit by Curumilla.

Carefully wrapping himself in his buffalo robe he laid on the ground, closed his eyes, and sought sleep--that great consoler of the afflicted, who often call it in vain for a long time ere it deigns to come for a few hours, and enable them to forget their sorrows. He was aroused, towards daybreak, by a hand being softly laid on his shoulder, and a voice timidly murmuring his name. The hunter opened his eyes, and sat up quickly.

"Who goes there?" he said.

"I! White Gazelle."

Valentine, now completely awake, threw off his buffalo robe, got up and shook himself several times.

"I am at your orders," he said. "What do you desire?"

"To ask your advice," she replied.

"Speak: I am listening."

"Last night, while Unicorn and yourself were looking for Red Cedar on one side, Black Cat and I were looking on the other."

"Do you know where he is?" he quickly interrupted her.

"No; but I suspect it."

He gave her a scrutinising glance, which she endured without letting her eyes sink.

"You know that I am now entirely devoted to you," she said, candidly.

"Pardon me--I am wrong: go on, I beg you."

"When I said I wished to ask your advice, I was wrong; I should have said I had a prayer to address to you."

"Be a.s.sured that if it be possible for me to grant it, I will do so without hesitation."

White Gazelle stopped for a moment; then, making an effort over herself, she seemed to form a resolution, and went on:

"You have no personal hatred to Red Cedar?"

"Pardon me. Red Cedar is a villain, who plunged a family I love into mourning and woe: he caused the death of a maiden who was very dear to me, and of a man to whom I was attached by ties of friendship."

White Gazelle gave a start of impatience, which she at once repressed.

"Then?" she said.

"If he fall into my hands, I will remorselessly kill him."

"Still, there is another person who has had, for many years, terrible insults to avenge on him."