The white rover, or, The lovely maid of Louisiana
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]THE -ORo THE LOVELY MAID OF LOUISIANA. ROACEO THE - ID FUI~To BY DR. J. H. ROBINSON. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY FREDERICK GLEASON OFFICE OF THE PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COM MUSEUM BUILDING, TREMONT S RIET. { 1852~ ,Ente .d accrinj to Act of Cnrrhi e e r1 51L aF G ,& ori "tii~s$ ef* t ,r r , " 't 4 it S. i~ ~"+t' r _ ~ 't +, .'l aa7",h . r6 z ,"" '4' J 1 . r _ s . page: Advertisement[View Page Advertisement] PimrIsHER's NTa.-The following Novelette' was originally }blished in the PITORILn Dz~wiNGR-loosi qoMPANIr, and is but a specimen of the many deeply entertaining Tales, pnd gemsof literal merit, which grace the columns of that elegant and highly popular journal. The CoXPANIoN embodies a corps of contributors of rare literary excellence, and is regarded as the ne plus ultra, by its scores of thousands of readers, GLEASON'S PICTORIAL A RECORD OF THE BEAUTIFUL AND USEFUL IN ART. 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Y~ 41 nib opy f the FLAG OF OUR UNION, and one copy of the PrICToRIAL DRAWING-Roo ot; 3 "year, for $5 06 oe ItrAL DnAWING-ROOM COMpA1xON may be obtained at any of the periodical irolhout the country, fnd of newsmen, at ten vents per single copy. lb ; ei x * xAY by F. GLi A, ON, BoSTON, MAss. 151 iasi"u, t repr doSpruce Street, New York. 1yx ,:AYLOU & o., ill Baltimore Street, Baltinmore E ti ,W 115 Main Street, Cincinnati. 4Woodward Avenuie, Detroit. ~AD_ er of Fourt e s treets p #wes. CHAPTER I. TSB HUNTER-CAPTAIN LEsAGE-A LIBERAL OFFER. IT was the year 172-. Louisiana was then a French colony. In 1718, by the direction of de Bienville, fifty log huts chad been erected on the west bank of the Mississippi River, to which the name of New Orleans -had been given in compliment'to the Duke of Orleans. Previous to that date, the site where the, Crescent City now stands had been covered with a dense for- est, in which the red man hunted his game and reared his lodge. A few years had not greatly changed the as- pect of the new settlement. It only numbered about two hundred cttbins, although it had be- come the seat of government-it having been transferred thither from Biloxi after considerable discussion in regard to the propriety of the measure. The population of New Orleans -at tie'time we have chosen for the date of our story was composed of all iinds. of people ; not a small part of them being convicts shipped fromFrance to hasten the settlement of the country, and to. fre prisons already overflowing. e ° ie ville, the governor, was a bold and humane ,man, much esteeined by those his auth9rity. With this brief description of the Frenehaet4 tlement on the banks of the Mississippi, in 172-i we shall proceed at once to the opening scenes of our story. It was a mild evening in the latter part of June. The sunlight had fallen from thle green leaves of -the forest, and lingered no longer on the summits of the western hills. At that calm and delightful hogr, the figur&of a man might have been seen standing thought- fully upon the margin of Lake PonchartrairiA beautiful sheet of water not far from thexie aw settlement. In person he was tall and eeed ingly muscular. Judging from his appearance he had not seen less than thirty summ'ers-in mers that had written lines of careupon 4i } brow, and whose suns had left a deep bruwn upon his face. He could not have been called eenmel o even good-looking,foiethere wass ister in his ,epression-the' nether lip with too much pride, the eyes were too fl their glancelsand the fore ed e ; erinto aeghpa3l frlm' H (ne might suj ose) had betn ~s L b .. 1 /, ' , i - "' . .. t, ,, .,',A ;rye - ,z : u",t. ry 'F " V rrrp ROVE-RI, page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 THE WHITE ROVER. nature from the period of its earliest develop- meat; and the same might be said, with some show, of plausibility, in regard to his hair, which reached quite to his shoulders. The' individual's dress, to whom the reader's attention has been called, consisted of a hunting frock of dressed deer skin, breeches of the same, Indian moccasons, and a common foraging cap, probably manufactured by himself from the skins of the musk-rat, or the coon. A powder-horn ornamented with various de- vices, and a ball pouch, were suspended from his shoulders and hung at his side, where a hunt- ing-knifp of large size was also visible, thrust' beneath the leather thong which encircled his waist. In his right hand the hunter held a double- barrelled rifle, which few men of the present de- generate age would wish to carry; on account of its great weight. Suddenly the listless attitude of the hunter changed. He had heard the sound of footsteps in the forest near him. "Moran, I 'have been seeking you," said a voice; and the next moment a man of middling stature, wearing the, uniform of a French officer, stood beside the person we have here been de- F scribing. '. What is your wish?" asked Moran, coldly. "Moran,"returned the other, playing careless- }ywith;the hilt of -his sword, " we-have met be-1 fore on several occasions." "My memory is very good, Captain Lesage ; you might have spared yourself the trouble of making that remark," replied Moran, gruffly. -I am something of a physiognomist, my good friend," continued Lesage. "I always nake a studX of the human face, in order to lea, something, of the character of its pos- 'An you have been studying me, captain ?" saidMorp, with a singular curl of the nether Sofwhich mention has already been made. o are right, Pierre Moran. I have studied d y u are the very man I wish for under u'stauces." . 0oronoLesnge," returned Moran. 'M e ho1d and daring fellow; blest with =aA4:,L 4 14~,-a strong hand and steady Sd4y. ad Ontures of all kinds." ., s.'3 -re,, . y, -o, y1 an insinuat- ~ ~4~s~ ~bel~ nd soxue- 4%dztud 8in a quikk and silent kind of way, you wo 'd be the man to do it, provided that your'services were compen. sated in a liberal manner; that is, in proportion to the risk incurred." For a moment a dqeper brown than usual was visible upon the forehead of Pierre Moran; but when Lesage looked up into his face for an answer, it had passed away. " You are very shrewd, captain," said the hunter, with a smile. " But go on; let me hear what you desire. Speak without reserve." "1I will do so," returned Lesage. " It is some- times the case, my worthy friend, that a person has an enemy; one whom he utterly despises." " That's very true, captain." "Well; can you not conceive that a man who has such an enemy might possibly wish to-" "Get him out of sight," added Moran. " You comprehend me, exactly. I see that I have not mistaken my man. To be plain with you, I have an enemy of this description, whom I wish to remove from my path. He is very dangerous ; he stands between me and my hopes and purposes. I have gold, Pierre Moran; you are a good shot I" Lesage paused and played nervously with his sword hilt. " I comprehend," answered the hunter, biting his lip. "Name your reward," added Lesage, in a voice less calm than that which he had at assumed. "You wear a sword, captain ; why not avenge your own wrongs, and save your gold ?" said Moran, looking contemptuously at Lesage. " I do not choose to. There are many reasons that make me anxious to entrust my vengeance to the hands of another; and you are the man I have selected." "You do me honor, Lesage,".replied the hunter, calmly. " The young man whose existence endangers my happiness, is in the habit of hunting about the borders of this lake." " His name, Lesage ?" "I will whisper it, lest these trees should have ears; it, is --"and the captain whispered the name as he had promised. "Did you hear?" "Perfectly well, captain; but how -am [ to know him ?" " That-will be the easiest thngin the:world. t1$llesiribo him. He is six tetvin height, ormved,.straight as an anowdithe as so In- dian, 4d the ladies call him handsome.. He is poor as beggarr, and proud as a prince. His complexion is dark, his eyes are black, his hair of the -same color, and it is barely possible that a little native blood circulates in his veins. He mingles freely with the Indians, and seems to have some influence among them." "You say he is fond of hunting ?" "It is his principal employment. He is quite as much at home in the woods as the aborigines themselves. He is an excellent shot, an4 carries a rifle, which may, for aught I know, be twin brother to your own. Do you think you should know him, Moran?" " Yes, captain." "Well; that man stands in my way," contin- ned Lesage, while his small gray eyes flashed with intense hatred. "When you will assure me-and bring proofs of what you affirm-that he is removed from my path, two hundred pounds will be subject to your order." " Liberal, upon my word!" exclaimed Moran, with another curl of that sinister nether lip. "Is there more to say on this subject?" asked Lesage, anxiously. "No more, captain." "Then we understand each other." "Perfectly." - " Two hundred pounds, Moran." "I comprehend." "It's settled, then ?" " Entirely." " You know where I am to be foui ?" "I do ; good night.", " Au revoir. I hope we shall meet again soon." And Lesage turned on his heel and walked away. " Senseless idiot 1" said the hunter to himself, when the form of Lesage had disappeared among the trees. "Aphysiognomist indeed ! Smooth- tongued dissembler ! for once you have reckon- ed without your host. When Pierre Moran im- brues his hands in the blood of his'fellow-man, save in self-defence, may he never live to wash out the foul stain, but pass to judgment fith all his sins upon his head. Go, Lesage, and find some other arm to slay one whom you dare not meet on equal terms. Pierre Moran can meet the red man two to one, and live through the fight ;'he can bring down the panther at two hundred yards, or he can battle successfully with the howling wolf-but a murder he cannot do;' and then he added in a lower tone, '"it was well for him that he found Pierre Moran in a calm and patient mood." With these words, the hunter shouldered his rifle and moved away along the margin of the lake. The moon had arisen, and her silvery rays were reflected softly upon the glassy waters. Tempted by the calm beauty of Ponchartrain, Pierre Moran paused occasionally in his solitary walk, to contemplate its sleeping depths. At length he turned from the lake and entered a dark dingle upon the right. Finding a spot suitable for the purpose, he gathered dry sticks and leaves, and by means Qf some powder and a flint set the heap on fire ; soon a bright blaze lighted up the dingle. a 8 9 THE WHITE RCVER. page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] A- CHAPTER U. THE SURPRISE--A PRISONER-THE RESCUE-THE WHITE ROVER. PIEnRE MQRAN laid down his rifle, spread his The Indian drew up his majestic figure to its blanket upon the ground, and lighted his pipe. greatest height; he raised his red hand and -eating himnse f by the .cheerful blaze, column pointed his long fingers fixedly at Moran, while afer columnoftbe fragrant smoke went curling his eyes flashed like meteors. upward, and he watched the fantastic wreaths as "'T is proudly spoken, bold pale face ; but it they dissolved and disappeared in the air. avails not-you are a prisoner." Suddenly a majestic figure seemed to rise up "Who are you?" asked Moran, somewhat out pf the earth and stand beside Pierre Moran. impatiently. he latter sprang to his feet and grasped his "I am Onalaska, the leader of the allied na- huntingknife,-for the- foot of the intruder was tonss" replied the red man, with a kingly wave planted firmly upon his rifle. of the hand. "The hatchet is dug up and will 'What does the pale face do here'?" asked the never be buried. The Chickasaws are burning ntrtider, in a stern voice. "Does he not know to avenge their wrongs ; they have communicat- that these great forests, these fair lakes, and ed the same contagious fire to the Choctaws, the these broad rivers belong to the red man'?" Natchez and the Mobilians. In a few months "The red man and the white are, brothers," the white man will be swept from the great val- replied Moran, eahnly. ley of the Mississippi. Their cabin-fires will be '"'Tis false 1" exclaimed the Indian, fiercely. extinguished forever, and their' dwellings shall "They never were brothers, and they never can become heaps of ruins. The fate of the Long be. They aretwo distinct races of people, and Knives*'is sealed." e reat Spirit has placed eternal enmity be- " This is a new movement," said Pierre, much t tiem." - wrought upon by the words of the proud chief- that matters little to me," replied* Pierre. tain. favors of white man or red. The for- "Onalaska has not been idle; he has been Jt F y ome, and I will not be driven from it successful. The time has come to strike a blow rt {jeverytree conceal an enemy thirsting for -mOW :y' f;oui came to intimidate me with SIy ll lo se tour labor for the * The whites were frequently called "Long oillloseyur laboraf Knives by the Indians, on account of their t rreMoran never pulsed with fear." swords. ''I THE WHITE ROVER. I' which shall send terror to the hearts of the French dogs." "Proud Indian, Pierre Moran is a French- said the hunter, sternly. " And a prisoner," 'added the chieftain, with a grim smile. "'Tis not true. I do not yield myself a pris-' oner. There, is not a single arm that can con- quer Pierre Moran, in a hand to hand encounter, to be found between the source of the great, river and its mouth." As the athletic hunter spoke, he drew his knife from its sheath, and struck his left foot fiercely upon the ground a little in advance of the right. " Haughty. savage, Pierre Moran is ready ! Come on!" The Indian smiled scornfully. " I have only to shout the battle-cry of the Chickasaws, to bring an hundred warriors upon you," he said, slowly. "Pale face, put back your knife; to fight would be madness!" Moran replaced his knife in its sheath. "Whatdo you intend to do with me ?" he asked, fixing his dark eyes earnestly upon Ona- laska. "My warriors shall decide." "I thought I was talking with a great chief," returned'Pierre, contemptuously. "And so you are; but a wise leader will al- ways please his warriors when he can," said the Indian. " Listen to me," replied the;hunter. "I will tell you hcw we may decide this matter. You are as strong and brave as any of your warriors. .Draw your hunting-knife and meet me on equal, terms, foot to foot, breast to breast, and hand to hand. He that is vanquished in the fight, let him be at the mercy of his victor. Let your braves remain where they are, and not put "forth their hands to decide the contest. Speak, Onalaska; is not the offer fair ?" " No, it is not," replied Onalaska. " I am a great war-chief-the leader of the alliednations, and you are without rank or title-a nameless hunter. My life belongs to my people, and why should I put it in peril, and thus endanger my great enterprise'? The idea is foolish, and not to be thought of. Why should I risk so much when you are already in my power'? Pale face, when you fight Onalaska, it. must be in battle." " Listen once again, proud savage," continued Pierre Moran. " If jou will not meet me in the' manxner proposed, bring to me your mightiest warrior, and I #ill try my str with ,him in anyway he may conquer I will be free." For reply, the chief uttered war-cry, and instantly an hundred riors showed their grim 'faces ab. which the hunter had kindled. 'T The white hunter is a captive ; wha. braves do with him'?" said Onalaska. There was a hurried consultation among warriors. At length a chief stepped for%, and said: "Let the pale face die according to the custom of the red man." "He has a brave heart," said Onalaska. "Then he will die like a man, and not like a squaw," replied the chief who had spoken. " He has never fought against our people continued Onalaska. "Let him perish then, before he slays an- of our warriors, as other Frenchmen have done;" rejoined the chief. Onalaska said no more ; he folded. his atn# and allowed his people to have their own way in regard to the captive., Preparations ae e stantly made to put him to death. Ho y, bound firmly to a tree. Dry fagots eOo brought :d heaped about him. A circle-was' formed around the condemned, andthe death dance celebrated. The dingle, so quiet an hour before, resounded with terrific shouts. [stn ENGRAVING.J Pierre Moran prayed silently for strengt, and courage, and resigned himself to.is fa ,av- age eyes flashed upon him, and sharp steel blades menaced him. The stout heart of Pierre Moran saink within him. He beheld all the avenues of hope closed forever. A tall savage stepped forward, waving a fiery brand that was to light the pile. He shook the blazing fagot on high, and laughed in fiendish triumph ; then he fired the combustible heap n several places, and the flames eaped upward. At that fearful crisis, there was a pdden commotion among the warriors; theygave vay to the right and left, and a young white'man dashed quickly through the broken circle, i4ed back the savage who held the burningybrs, and scattered the blazing 'ago, all directions; th% drawing from his belt, lle severed thsi$Af Moran in an instant. f" r x. t : J ,f , . i page: 12-13 (Illustration) [View Page 12-13 (Illustration) ] i ii *mih ROVER " Spoken like a true man," said the hunter. May I be permitted to ask if yoi r home is near the new settlement ?" " Sometimes it is near, at "others afar off" answered Delcroix, lightly. c At present, my home is wherever night overtakes me. I am a free denizen of the forest; a licensed wanderer among hills and'mountains." " A bold heart, truly. Pardon me if I ask your name ?" " I am called Henri Delcroix by the French; but the red man, not unfrequently, styles me the 'WHITE ROVER.' I can tell you but little of my history. I' was born in the great valley of the Mississippi about the time of the first settle- meint at Biloxi. My early youth was passed mostly among the Indians, but I was' finally domiciled in the house of a good priest, who taught me to read and write. I renlember a French woman, also, who seemed very fond of me, and taught me much that was useful. The priest is still living. Lie has recently taken up his residence at the new settlement, which they call New Orleans, and I am allowed to follow my own inclinations. This is about all yam at liberty to tell you of my own history." "In return for your frankness," replied the other, "I will inform you'that'my name is Pierre Moran. Like 'you, my home is in the woods, for I am a hunter. I am familiar with every acre of the country an hundred miles up the river. I know where the deer goes down to drink; where the fox seeks covert; where the Wolf prowls at night ; and where the panther loves best to lie in wait fir its prey. I know something of the Indian tribs, also, and of the habits of that strange people. When you de- sire the aid of a strong hand, and a huntes ~ friendship, give the preference to Pierre Moran. The'service you have rendered me this night, makes me your friend forever." "I thank you for your manly proffers of friend- ship; for in these troublous times, true friend- ships are rare," returned Deleroix, warmly. "And real enemies too often found," rejoined Pierre. "Yes; and how much it is to be regretted," said Delcroix, sadly. " And now, while I think of it, permit me to whisper these words of warning in your ear: " Beva*e of LT*ige !" Henri Deleroix started at the mention of Le- sdge, de if a serpent had stung him. "Yous ktiow that man, then ?" he replied, PIERRE MORAN BOUND POr EXECUTION.-See Chap. II, page 10 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] THE WHITE ROVER. turning quite suddenly and looking steadily at Moran. -... "'I do. I have, by some fatality, met him several times." " Is he a friend of yours l" " God forbid !" said Pierre Moran, earnestly. " Then you are not pleased with him, Mon- sieur Moran ?" "1I am not; and it is possible that the time is near when I will give you my reasons for dis- liking him. But now let us decide where we shall pass the rest of the night." " Go with me to ,the settlement. Father D vion always has-a spare bed for my friends.", "I accept the kind offer. - I can alrea4y sq the fires of New Orleans." In a few moments, Hepri Deicroix and tb swarthy hunter stood in the midst of the mini ture city. They entered a cabin not far firo the spot where the old Cathedral now stand and in a short time were wrapped in a profound slumber, forgetful of the toils and perils of th day. CHAPTER III. HELEN LEROWE-ADELAIDE-THE DECLARATION. IT was the morning following the events de- us again in the day of our afflictions,"saida p tailed in our last chapter. It was quite early, and interesting looking woman, as our hero for the sun still lingered upon the eastern verge. crossed the humble threshold. "There are Ye At that hour a female figure might have been few young and fair like yourself, who love seen walking hurriedly up the street, now known visit the poor and needy. God will reward yo as Chartres street. That portion of her face Mademoiselle Lerowe," added the woman. which was not concealed by a veil, was sufficient " How is your husband ?" asked Mademoiseli to assure any one who might have any curiosity Lerowe, kindly, throwing back her veil, in relation to the subject, that she was quite " Louis is much better, thanks to your gent youthful and exquisitely fair.'_ ministration, but it was an ugly wound, Mad She was well dressed, according to the style moiselle Helen," replied the woman. of that period ; but she was by no means indebt- " And how is Adelaide l" ed to mere externals for that rare beauty of out- " She will answer for herself," said a so line, that graceful development of person, which voice, and a young girl of about seventeen yea was hers, and which cou not fail to excite ad- appeared from an adjoining room. miration in the most casual observer. So far "You are looking rather pale this' Morni as stature was concerned, she compared very You must go and walk in the open air. VThe well with the models of female perfection, es- of a sick room does not agree with young bloe teemed by classic minds in all ages of the world. like yours, Adelaide," rejoined flelen, study Hers was that exalted and pure style of, love- the features of her young friend attentively. liners, pre-eminently calculated to please and be- " I have known young ladies to have;pa wilder all true admirers of beauty in woman. cheeks without inhaling the air of a sick room As she moved lightly onward, there was grace returned Adelpide, playfully. and poetry in every motion ; not that received Helen Lerowe blushed, and placed her !hi from art, but that borrowed from nature herself. fingers on Adelaide's lips. The fair girl turned to the.left, and entered a "For all your acts of kianness ldu ng nf cabin, near the present site of the St. Charles ther's severe illness, I thanlyo t sin Theatre. Mademoiselle Helen," adc d ,del 4ea* "Ah, mademoiselle ! you have come e ,serious and earest I .t, i ; ,{ t, 'S. 4 - . S3 n - 5 .. ,y - - , i 'r,':x' -'r: -, . i t = r t ' 'e ( f' F ' sl'i'""N 'R"1 page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] THE WYHF' {Yomay leave off the Mademoiselle, Ade- d 1ds for thanks, you neednot say aworl t~eini.You know tlhatiifuture we are to the best of friends," rejoined Helen. S o foget delen, that I-Yambut poor girl, different position in life," said Ad- ' M e ky - .Ad ot forget, Adelaide, that I am-also but ir grl, and :nothing but the governor's Tere is a great difference between a and a daughter, my good friend," replied len. But you are an inmate of the governor's e, andaskindlytreated as it you werein- id his daughter," said Adelaide. Very true ; and yet there are times when I but too painfully that I amnot his daughter, knerely a dependant upon his bounty," an- ued Helen, sadly. 1 am not certain that you ought to cherish Ii feelings, Mademoiselle Lerowe. We all that his Excellency, De Bienville, is very of you." ' - n could not have confided me to the tter man than De Bienville," replied estly; "but notwithstanding, there are en n my heart feels the want of a 'aove, and a father's counsel." rr -- Mademioiselle Lerowe was speaking, or assoftly opened, and Henri Delcroix apartment. His eyes rested upon lfjaii' of Helen Lerowe. He recoiled a changedgcolor, and seemed embarrassed. °xtMow 7Ztappeared contagious, for Helen San~d was quite as much embarrassed. nri bowed low, and said vith tolerable r't ;ges"me pleasure to meet you here, Ma- eaLee. The object of your visit, I 7ask. t is a part of your nature to per- 'of beneolene. I dare say that Mad- ' iand Adelaide will bear witness to I ave ka,'theliberty to aflirm." go willmyhusband," said Madame releged together to confuse t ' r*1kelli1me' with useless compliments," 4 lelen with Asmile. Po means useless, ee4; Henri, respectfully. r iMey, in order to change r '_ p ed wasreaUy annoy- ,is tknoring ? May wer .. his out iaain ?" il ROVER. "'He is doing well,: Monsieur Henri. ' His wounds are nearly healed. In a few days he' says he shall be able to take thetrail again, and punish the treacherous Chickasaws," answered Madame Ridelle. Helen turned depart., " Stay," said e kind matron, with a signifi- cant smile. " B seated ; we cannot spare you yet." " Of course not," added Adelaide, and with a gentle force, she compelled her to be seated. Madame Ridelle drew Deleroix aside, and whispered in his ear: " Improve your time, Henri. Don't be faint- hearted. We will endeavor to give you ample opportunity. Just speak to her, and my word for it, she will not be angry." Henri made no reply, but gave her a grateful look. " Adelaide, did not your father call? " added Madame Ridelle, after a moment's pause. Adelaide hastened to the bedside of her father, begging Helen to remain until she returned. Very soon Madame Ridelle followed her daugh- ter, who called to her. Mademoiselle Lerowe and Henri were left alone. An awkward silence ensued. . " Mademoiselle Helen," said Henri, seating himself at her side, " condescend to listen to me a single moment, and if in that moment I offend you, it will be the unhappiest of my whole life. I have never yet presumed to tell you with my lips what I am convinced your own penetration discovered long ago in my actions, viz., that I passionately love you. Yes, more than this ;- - I worship-I adore you. But, beautiful Helen, these terms but imperfectly express my heart's idolatry." Henri's voice tremb he hesitated, and then ventured to take Helen s hand. " HAve patience wit ie dear mademoiselle ; hear what I have to say, 'and I will not soon trouble you with the story of my unhappy love again. I know that you are an angel of good- ness, and placed far above me in life. I cannot hope that you will ever become more to me than you now are ; yet I have resolved to unburden my heart, in order that I might have a portion of that gentle sympathy which you are wont to bestow upon all the unfortunate." Again Henri's emotions overpowe him. Helen's eyes were full of tears, and she -embled excessively. a hCease yo speak thus, I entreat of you," she said in a:voice nearly inaudible. THE WHITE ROVER. 1 "I know it wounds your gentle nature to see ing maiden towards him, and ventured to p meconenumed with a hopeless passion," contin- his lips lightly to her crimson cheek. ned Henri, " and I will trespass but little farther " Helen," he added, "now am I indeed upon your time and patience. In extenuation The days of my boyhood seem to be recapet of my folly, I would entreat you to remember, Henceforth I have something to live for. Helen, that I have known you from my boy- will live to make myself worthy of Helen I hood ; thatjwas the companion ofyour earliest rowe. I will win a name that shall be worthy o1 wanderings over the green hills of Biloxi; that her, or perish in the effort. Now I am but a Father Davion taught us to read from the same unknown lad, without money, and I might ad . book,;that he bade me love you as a sister; without parentage; but, I trust it will not always that you were surpassingly beautiful, and a heart be thus, for now I have as great an incentive t less susceptible than mine might have loved you. action as ever mortal man had." Alength you came a ward, or rather the "Nay, Henri, you overvalue me. You forge adopted daughter of De Bienville. Thereafter that I am as portionless as yourself; and that m you were gently nurtured, and a greater distance parentage is involved in an obscurity as dark a was placed between us in point of condition; your own. I have no claims to gentle birth,al but the mischief was already done. I had learn- am but a dependant upon the boun of the ex ed to adore you, young as you were, and your cellent governor," replied Helen, estly. dear image was engraved upon my heart, never " You lose sight of many advantages which to be effaced. I still met you often, and you you possess. You are known as the fairest ,o usually paused for a moment to speak kindly to $he daughters of Louisiana. There is not a ma your former associate and companion, and thus in the colony but would be proud to lay hb unconsciously nurtured my passion. Helen, is heart at your feet, were he sure the offer my presumption to be wondered at ? Is it not would be accepted. It would be easy'for a natural consequence of our former compan- elnoiselle flerowe to marry a fortune," rep ionship ?" Henri. " 0, Henri, why will you thus misapprehend "Such an absurd idea never occurred me. I do not reproach you--I do not blame Mademoiselle Lerowe," rejoined Helen,,s you," .replied Helen, in a voice tremulous with "Helen," continued Henri, seriously, " emotion. you willing to sacrifice ambition to love, and' "Then you are not angry because I have main as you now are until Dame Fortune ab spoken freely ; you do not too severely condemn enable me to claim you as my bride." my presumption !" exclaimed Henri, falling up- " It will be no sacrifice, Henri; and as foram on his knees, and pressing the hand of Helen to bition, I have little of the kind you refer to, his lips, said Helen. "Ah, Henri! how blind you have been," she "Your kind words render me unspeakable said, softly. happy. And now, dear girl, allow me to m A sudden and almost overpowering light you here as often as propriety will admit" flashed in upon the mint of -Henri Delcroix., "I should be rather a poor judge of the His brain seemed to stagger with the weight of named commodity, I fear," answered the maiden the truth, which his senses had received. The with a smile. blood rushed tumultuously to his face; his eyes "On the contrary a 1eof prpr sparkled with unnatural light;-he was dizzy ety," said Henri. " thersubtI with happiness. must speak of before we I have often He bestowed upon Helen a thousand endearing seen Capt. Lesage enter governor's hos epithets ; he did not cease to kiss her hand until My heart told me that motive i he heard the footsteps of Adelaide. there. Was IrightHm" He arose from his knees with a face radiant The sweet face of suffused :W with joy. -,blushes. * " I have been indeed blind," he said, in a low ," You Were not 4 o~~upep ,tone, " for you love me." He baa, persecuted Adelaide saw how matters were progressing, "M41(you gat y and hastily retreated-to her father's rates. " Cirtainly not. -,The happy lover drew the tearfa.1 ad blush- " Well, Helen? page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] Ti~ WEJIE ROViER. tien, adidaccuedme of loving T1I4ia 7Y" am erin that you have sr frboMhberforFby some means hd d 4s red your seretf and mine;too, per- N ee isa ant1Nat will not brook denial, 44dnce resolved upon a; thing, nothing Meigie his prpose" "othaernot mistaken hisjcharacter. He 0"e44 ldimgedros miin, and capable of any of villany. How does he stand with De e ve° Agood terms,'I believe." o'y uagie 'that the governor favors tetensin _ t-t i bject I am in doubt. 'I hope not, rtily despise the character of the ere' still another subject upon which I here is a ptospe t of a long and Swar wi& the Indians. Already have the cbied'their'depredations, provok- # e oi to believe, by some overt aet 9Capt.. .esage. Onalaska has is warriors, and sept deputa-' neighiboring nations; to the ~ s', t e obilians, and the e alu ixbering desire for virgeance he council-fires of the g on every hill, and in every nvery iver;-and unless this k led at once, every white mal-will W _ ttbrlthi great valley of the Missis- SThe settlement at Mobile, at tauphine d a mnsacola; and here at New Orleans, 41 f ilultaneously; for, by a wonderful -iallthese. infant colonies will e of ent iLerowegrew pale. 61ercifulheaven.I" she exclaimed. "Is the ~eiuler~ indie= ' ent ?'.. . in er tie :hild's play about it. laeteev free to go among e d that I have ever been tf =he In d. r I believe they liave the&.dea that a goodly portion of their ..ththe white currents d enriw with a slight y , il"fr e ? ~yYhas itiay;1Ihave acquired coosiderable influence over the minds of our -ed neighbors. No Imger ago than last night, I dared to dash into their midst, and snatch a victim from the jaws of death,'even af- ter the :fires were lighted., And," continued Henri, with a flashing eye and a heaving chest, " I escaped unharmed. Not oneof the horribly painted warriors pointed a feathered arrow,-or raised"a' tomahawk against me. There is not another man in Louisiana that could have done it." - "I'll answer for the truth of that assertion with my ,life," said a voice. Henri and Helen turned toward the door, and their eyes rested upon the figure of Pierre Moran. " There is not another man in the French colony that could have done it and lived to tell his sweetheart of it. Pierre Moran says it," ad- ded the hunter. "And he would be a bold man who would dare gainsay you," replied Henri. "Permit me to introduce you to Mademoiselle Lerowe." Pierre bowed gallantly, and expressed the pleasure he experienced in making the acquaint- ance of so fair a lady. ' " As you stayed much longer than you had anticipated,", said Moran, turning to Henri, " I feared something unfortunate had befallen you, and camepromptly to the rescue ; but I perceive that you can dispense with my services." Henri and Helen exchanged glances, and changed color. At that crisis Madame Ridelle and her inter- esting daughter appeared, and Pierre Moran was greeted as an old acquaintance. . " I have hunted many a day, and camped many a night with Ridelle,"- said the hunter. "And I have fought he savages side by side, with him, and hope to again, for there will soon be warm work in the colony." "Do you think so ?" asked Madame Ridelle, anxiously. " There can be no doubt of it, madame., It's a fact that might as well be known first as last. The red men are aroused to vengeance, and much blood will be shed." Madame Ridelle sighed. Monsieur Moran looked furtively at Adelaide, and Adelaidelook- ed down at the flor.' - CHAPTER IV. RA IDENTIAL INTEBVIEW-FATHEn DAVION-THE ARREST. ITw' e ning. De Bienville and Lesage whole red race; and not without causefor 'f were closeted together. not every Frenchman on the Mississippi inan- "Are you really in earnest," said de Bienville, ger ? It is not easy to guess what asingth dan "when you assure me that this young man has may bring forth. To-day we rest in glconpa incited all the Inian tribes against the French tive security, but to-morow we may be toa- colonists ?" hawked and scalped, and our infant city " I never was more so, your excellency," re ashes." plied Lesage. a-,,.,.. plie Lesge." Lesage," said de Bienville, abruptly, c T =ave "But what is the secret of his influence among been acquainted with the various tribes on te them'? Can you tell me that ?" asked de Bien- Mississippi River for twenty-one rs n the ville, incr edulously. ,p1ie rtet-n years, and I' yule, incrduouti , have not yet acquired that influence over their " The truth is he is not free from' nativeblood, minds which you say this beardless boy has. I himself. He has associated with the Indians what you say be true, nature boy if from his childhood, and having considerable tended him for a great man." natural shrewdness, has learned how to operate "For a great villain, you meant to say, your upon tieir impulsive natures. He is known also excellence," retorted Lesa , somewhat tartly to be the intimate friend of Father Davion, and " I meant asI sad edr th g ry he possesses great influence among the savages," drily. "It quires a bold arne e governor replied Lesage, withmuch apparent sincerity, lay such a plan as ye have been talkingof A " Is it possible that this bo j has Indian blood miserable coward -aopalby knavecouldo. enough'to make him plan the destruction of all it: Bute still the y g vabod snot do the French settlers upon ,the Mississippi ?" ex- looked to." claimed de Bienville, nervously. - "You cannot atte xd to the matter tooon "It is too true," replied Lesage, musingly. your excellency. Atteay the ae is laidat th "One drop of Indian blood would be enough to root df the tree. contamhitwe the best man in the country." "Hold!" cried de"3envie, wie udo netlikeour red neighbors, captain ""When he devilquot Sei'ptune men Shoul r gied ie, looking searchingly atLetage. be on their enrd", I pla guilty to the charge. I hate' the "Ade Bienvihe, you are .scarcelywaeo page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 THE WHITE ROVER. the danger that threatens this devoted colony. Already I seem to hear the shrieks of helpless women, and the wailings of innocent babes. Good heavens ! that such depravity should be found on earth !" and the tender-hearted captain covered his face with his hands, and paced the floor in deep affliction. "Be calm, Captain Lesage," said the governor, somewhat softened by his emotions. " Restrain your anxiety; immediate steps shall be taken to arrest the threatened calamity." De Bienville paused, and seemed absorbed in thought. "And this boy was the friend and playmate of Helen," he said, musingly-" the bright and in- telligent youth I used so much to admire. Strange that the human countenance should be such a falsehood,. and furnish no key to the character of its possessor." Then turning suddenly to Lesage : "Do you think Father Davion knows aught of Henri's plans, or really understands his dis- position ?" I do not. The good old man has not the remotest idea of the baseness of the serpent he has nurtured in his bosom. When the whole is made known to him, it will bring his gray hairs m sorrow to thegrave." And some of our heads, it would seem, wil be brought down to sheol before our hairs have a thance to grow gray. Alas, we are an unfortu nate people. Lesage, I wigh there were some mistake about this matter. I do not wish to think so hardly of the boy ; and do Bienville walked the room with agitated and uneven steps " Go and arrest him," he said, at length, in s sorrowful voice. " Go and arrest him," and h waved his hand for Lesage to depart. "I never gave an order with so much reluc tance," he said to himself, when the captain ha gone. "I really liked the lad; but what a veno mo-s viper ho is, to be sure. And.so young too. Mon Die! I am losing all faith in humax nature." We-will now, gentle reader, bend our foot stops _to-,the humble- cabin of Father Davion- one whose name is already recorded upon th page of history, as the friend and instructor o the poor and untutored savage. 'The venerable old man was alone. He wa engaged in the most ennobling of all huma ployseentspraerm t hr opefear,"u for- himself._ I'reerve s rom A1..t+.horors ofwar," It cried, elevating his hands and bowing his head low-upon his breast. " Save my people from blood-guiltiness. Disarm the poor red man of his vengeance; protect this feeble colony, lest it perish from the face of the earth." Father Davion arose from his knees. The door opened and Henri Delcroix entered. "Pax vobiscupa " (peace be with you), said the man of God. "Under your roof," replied Henri, feelingly, " I have ever found the blessing which you have now invoked. " Deo gratias (thanks be to God). It makes my heart glad to hear you say so, my son. But what are these rumors that are afloat in New Or- leans ? Sit down and tell me. Is there really any danger of a simultaneous rising of the Indians ?" " There is, good father. The peril is immi- nent, and if some decisive measures are not im- mediately taken by the governor to soften down the spirit of vengeance, or to meet it face to face, the French settlements will be swept away with the besom of destruction." The holy father crossed himself most devoutly. Deus in adjutorium meum intended ! You must - hasten to the governor at once, and give him due warning." " Alas, his ears are not open to counsel like l mine," answered Henri, sadly. "Other tongues are busy with him, and my bare assertion would - avail but little." " Do you mean to say, my son, that the gov- ernor's mind is already closed against you?" "I have good and sufficient reasons for be- lieving so ; for he has dangerous counsellors. a Lesage, forgetful of all but self, is constantly e pouring his subtle poisonsinto the governor's mind, and soon there will be no room there for - aught save distrust and anxiety. One Pierre d Moran, a hunter, whose name you have doubtless - heard, has been with de Bienville to-day, and he heard enough to 'convince him that I'should a have little or no influence with him, although I am known to have an accurate knowledge of the Indians and Indian character." " Ah, Henri! de Bienville prides himself on e his own knowledge of Indian character," said )f .Father Davion. " And not without reason. He is wise and s sagacious in that respect, and is much esteem n by the red;man ; but he -is not admitted into )t; their confidence, es I have been." "Very true, my son; you are indeediu afar- e ~fnl dilenuna. You cannot ight again as u THE WHIZ people, and how can you betray the trust of the poor Indian-lift your hand against him who has fed and warmed you !" exclaimed Father Davion, with much emotion. " Your words fill me with apprehension; holy father. I am indeed painfully embarrassed. My thoughts distract he! But Mon Dieu! I can- not stand still and see the savage curs shedcthe blood of these helpless colonists ! No no ! I will fly to the forests ; I will present myself be- fore the red men. I will tell them I shake off their friendship forever; that henceforth there is no bond of sympathy between us;that I will meet them in the field, and in the forest, as deadly enemies ; that I cannot turn renegade to my own blood. Give me my rifle, my powder- horn, my ball-pouch, my hunting-knife, and let me away !" "No, stay, my dear boy. Let us think calmly ; let us plan deliberately ; let us look the danger calmly in the face."a " And while we are doing that, the war-cry may perchance be heard all along the banks of "But reflect, my son ; you must not throw I away your life when your aid is so mich needed by these defenceless people. Women and chil-a dren claim the protection of every hand that can I lift a musket or wield a sword." "And there is one, good Father Davion, that Henri Delcroix would die to save," said the young man, in a low, impressive voice. a "What !" exclaimed Father Davion. "Is your heart then enthralled by the blandishments v of woman ?" " It is ; and her name is Helen Lerowe, the p fairest of the fair, and for her sake I would face a thousand deaths, and my heart should not pul- h sate with a single fear for myself." " Now may Heaven be merciful, Henri, for ti there is indeed danger before you !" " D o you reproach m e, father, for loving that' , l il - n h m y u y u sl a g te I) noble girlone werhom you yourself taught mt t to love as a sister, when you taught us to read 'c( from the same bookI" No, no! I do not reproach you. Were it riot, foir the -ruin which you will draw down upon ,of your own young head, I would rather you should' fix your love upon 'Helen Lerowe, than any other ar woman in the world. But do you not-see'that your relations to her are 'changed? She is no ongr r ae o e v- e 1e'aebomhylished lady. She has no deart o rE ROVER. 21 lovers. She can choose from the titled and the wealthy; and be assured de- Bienville will ixer= cisc a parent's authority over her actions;.at least, so far as it seems to him for her good." " Allyou have said is true; but do not imag- iae that it has not occurred to me4 before. I have thought of it for many months ; but to-day I have done more than simply to think=-I have acted. Helen loves me, and our mutual vows are registered in heaven." "Rash boy ! you are rushing headlong to your ruin. You have rich and powerful rivals,who will crush you at a blow. How can a friendless{ nameless, homeless youth enter the arena and do battle with such odds !" cried Father Dialon, in tones of real anguish. "Is it generous, holy father, to refer to my obscure birth ? Has not the ragged iron already entered my soul? Need I another thrust t6 keep me umble? Would you strike the sub- missivedog that already crouches at your feet ' "Hold, my dear Henri! you are' too hard upon your old friend. If I probe your woundi it is that I may heal it soundly and well 'ar e it from me to reproach you because your arentage is obscure. The same inscrutable obscurity also hangs over the parentage of Helen ; and. it were folly to affirm that she is ess lovely or noble for that." "I hear footsteps without," said Henri,1stairt- ng to his feet' "It sounds like the tread 'df "m me. What can it mean ?" "You may well ask !" exclaimed Fa'het a ion, "for I see the bristling of bayonets through he windows ! Alas ! my heart tells ie but too mainly what it portends." There was a loud rap like a blow from' the ilt of a sword. " Conceal yourself, my dear boy," whispered he holy father. " Never," said Henri, firmly. "I will .'ee he danger boldly, whatever it may be. Heari )elcroix will never fly while 'hef has' the prou-4' consciousness that he has, done nothing wadt f punishment." Father Davion opened the door, and theobhig fTesage darkened the threshold. "Henri Deleroix,[ arit you," he'saidin an i-ogant tone. " By whose authority 1" asked Hlenri, cli y a ty f his excellency, the "I was orere to arrest you, and nott - page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] THE WHITE ROVER. questions, Monsieur Henri. Men, close, uard.the door, andsee that he does not es- 1l ape through the windows." d ' dyou bring the whole of the governor's r .aammy r" askedHenri,,sarcastically. d Lesage bit his lips and made no reply. CaptainXesago, what does all this portend ? e Answer me?" said Father Davion, in a tone of dmand. if You can ask his excellency," returned Le- a g if you have any interest in this unfortu- y young man. I can only assure that he will p b1p.ditfairly with., It is my duty to conduct l$im to p$son. Sergeant Dumont, march, in a y 111P of men. Corporal Willet, bring the irons." - The captain stepped aside, and the sergeant b with file of men, with shouldered arms, entered and surrounded Henri. The corporal followed t Jandeuffs. iold out your hands for the ornaments, mon- t asri said.the corporal.d Wth a smile of derision Henri stretched forth f 14 ads, and the irons were placed upon them. t ,,]e was then pushed into the open air in order tS4the cautions captain might arrange his men oreing order. ' - Close up, men. Sergeant Dumont, prick ian with your sword that laughed in the ranks ! Attention the. whole !, eyes front ! to t tig right about'face ! mark time ! march 1" and Sivalryof Louisiana moved away toward, the prison. ,'11We ought to have had music, Sergeant Du- o sothatwe could have taken him along to tine , f the Rogue's, March,' "remarked the captain, facetiously.1 Wroprison was a small stone building near the governor's residence, and thither Henri was, crter He soon had the sorrowful privilege of hearing the locks of a prison turn upon-him fostherfst time in his life. .&jpst appreciation,9f his position, which his tA udgmont -enabled, him to make, nearly him:with grief and anxiety. NKt that he feared any punishment for sup- r 94I psg, butthe ideasof dishonor and last- Ipg ignoiny quite unneryed himt for the mo- uat; ri as possible that eyen Leelen might be taught to credit the tales which, would be cgdto'him;. ,4 A% to glqoupy thoughtswe will ur again to thehse of the governor for w0 ~ c ey dignify it with;the title of Immediately after the prison doors had been ocked upon Henri, Captain Lesage hastened to he presence of De Bienville, who had not yet etired, but was pacing his room with a mind istracted by the most intense anxiety. " Well, captain, what news 1"'he asked, earn- stly, when Lesage appeared. " May it please your excellency, our worst- ears are confirmed," he said, with a low bow, nd a lugubrious voice. " Upon searching the oung man, I found upon his person sundry ieces of birch bark, which seem to be covered with diagrams, one of which I will lay before rou and attempt to explain." Lesage proceeded to unroll a piece of birch bark about the size of a letter sheet. " This serpentine mark through the centre of he bark, represents, doubtless,- the Mississippi winding its way along the great valley, and hese two smaller ones the Tombigbee and Per- dido. These round characters indicate the dif- ferent French settlements. This is Natchitoches ; his is New Orleans; this is Dauphine'Island, and this is Pensacola." " Sacre Dieu I" exclaimed the governor, lifting his hands in astonishment. " Observe, your excellen y, that these large marks represent the Natchez; this the Choc- taws ; this the Chickasaws ; this the Mobilians, and this the Yazoos." " The saints defend us I" ejaculated the gov- ernor. "These arrows, your excellency," continued Lesage, with consummate ;art, "indicate the number Of villages in each nation ; while these belts of wampum represent the number of chiefs. Near each village you perceive a hatchet and a scalping-knife,; showing probably that a state of warfare exists, and is to be carried forward with vigor," - " Are you morally certain that this is the work of that unhappy young man ?" said De Bien- ville, with a lowering brow. "What farther assurance does your excellency require ?" asked Lesage, with a troubled ex- pression. " All that I can possibly have. It never shall be said that De Bienville, during his adminis- tration,.acted: hastily or, without ,due evidence that he was in thepath of duty. What are you trying to decipher at the bottom of the chart 2i" "See for yourself," replied Lesage. The governor took the{birchen chart and rea4 in legible characters the name of eupri 1 THE WHIT croix, and just beneath it the name of Onalaska sometimess styled Red Shoe), the famous Indian warrior and diplomatist. De Bienville's hand shook while he held in it the fatal sign of:Henri's guilt. " The whole of the foul plot has not yet been developed," added Lesage, in a tone of well dissembled grief. " This hard-hearted, incon- siderate. and remorseless youth has also tam- ppred with the Banbara negroes, and they are ripe for revolt." The governor, upon hearing this astonishing intelligence, was for a moment speechless with surprise. ".I have heard," he said, at length, endeavor- ing to speak with calmness, "vague rumors of an insurrection among the Banbaras, but I have hitherto regarded them but lightly, knowing that the negroes are, as a general thing, a docile and peaceably disposed race of men, suffering wrong often, but very seldom resisting oppres- sion. "Bat now the aspect of things is indeed seri- ous, for there are as many negroes as whites in Louisiana at the present moment. Before we proceed farther, tell me how you gained this most astonishing piece of news ?" "From my own faithful knave, your excel- lency." "Call him in, Lesage." In a short time the captain's colored servant made his appearance. "Curlie, cover up your teeth with those thick lips, and answer any questions his excellency may ask, and see that you keep nothing back," said the captain. "Yes, massa," replied Curlie, displaying a large quantity of ivory. Curlie," said the governor, sternly, "can you tell the truth ?" I used to eould, massa," replied Curlie. Do you know Henri Deleroix ?" As I know my farder, massa gubernor." "Has he ever tampered with you ?" " He tried to, but he couldn't 'kase Ise so wir- tuous-. 'The governor could not repress a smile. "Did he ever ask you to join the Indians in waging a war of extermination against the French?" " Them's the werry words he said to me, Gubernor Bienville. He told me we could soon make the French run away; that is, what few of E. ROVER. 'em wasn't scalped, and then we could make* nice--what do you call 'em-republic Qf Ot own, and some of e Banbaras would be gube. nors in course of time. Butit:wan's my nature to commit such anact of moral turpentineI" "Tupitude, you mean," said Lesage. "Do you know whether he ever talked in a similar manner to other colored persons," con- tinued the governor. " le did. There's quite a 'telligent dark that I'm jest been conversing. with,, that he talked to in the same disrespectable way," "You may go, Curlie, and if you see that it telligent colored gentleman, request him tq come in," added the governor, with great gravity. The negro referred to made his appearance almost immediately, and testified ,much in the same manner that his predecessor had done. "Captain Lesage," said de Bienville, whey they were alone, "I am satisfied .that this-is a most serious affair, and that all the French set- tlements are in danger of complete destruction. Your important services shall not be forgotten. You may regard your promotion as something fixed upon and certain. Any favors I can rea- sonably grant, you may ask without fear of re- buke. The events of the last few days have secured you a warm friend in the person of the governor of Louisiana-an office which the uni- ted voices of the colonists affirm he has never yet disgraced." " Governor de Bienville, I thank you most sincerely for your good opinion. Permit moe to suggest one thing more before I leave you." " Speak freely, captain." " You are aware that the worthy Father De- vion is exceeding fond of this misguided youth, and will by no means be disposed to admit -his guilt. He will undoubtedly seek an interview with your .excellency as soon as the morning dawns. Now in order to spare yourself the pain of beholding his grief, would it not he right and proper and excusable, to plead some prior en- gagement, or something of that kind ? Put him off by some means, in order' to spare him the anguish of a direct refusal of his wishe~ which would well nigh break his heart. A course like this, it seems to me, would be a mercy to him, and to yourself also." "I will take your well meant advice into con- sideration. Send Dumont to me to-morrow." " Yes, your excellency." " And, stay ; do not forget to find two or page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] THE WHITE OVE1. 4lirie/faithfui messengers, that I.may Aend to there I f.er tf Claude, n the Yazoo River, and to' ^tj ortoaf St. Dennis, at latchitoches." sL ttage retired, and the governor was again alone \sflieted about ae much with real'difficul ties as Sangho Panzo was with imaginary ones, *t thb fdihbas island of Barritaria. ks frLesage, we will suppose that his dreams Were troubled, and that his sleep was not the ildf6filionce. With consummate skill he 1iWoven the meshes of villany alout his youthful rival, and there appeared but little hope ia could extricate himself from the dicBul- (8hihli he was involved. Thire ias a dangerous appearance of reality, fsdhe divelopneits which he had pretended to Nil t6 the governor. The Indians were truly forsef their mutual'animosities, and uniting toff s igth to crush the French. ' thlfs movement had' been suspected by de Bienville for a long time, and he now supposed that he had significant proof that Henri 1)eleroix was the leader and prime mover of the fatal alliance. There had also heen much "discontent among the Banbara negroes, and Henri was now as deeply implicated in the embryo insmrection as in the Indian league ; and it was fearfully appa- rent that if the whole affaif was not crushed in its infancy, nothing could save the French fromi destruction. It was known that our hero had been much with the Indians, and had considerable influence over them; and, this fact, added to the many which Lesage had produced, afforded, in the estimation of the governor, but too evident proof of his guilt, and he regarded him as furnishing an instance of the blackest ingratitude and de- pravity on record. He resolved that his punish.- ment should be speedy and summary. r ' e T a P p CHAPTER 'V. LA GLORIEUSE. UPON the night of Henri's arrest, a birchen canoe containing two persons was floating noise- lessly down the Mississippi, near its western bank. Both the voyagers were females. The one who occupied the stern of the frail vessel was a Natchez woman of about twenty years of age, uncommonly handsome, and nearly related to the Great Sun. She was in fact a princess. Her name was La Glorieuse-The Proud. As the soft moonlight fell upon the face of La Gloricuse, it revealed features which would not have proved uninteresting even to the most common-place observer. The light of a lofty spirit beamed from her eyes. Firmness and gentleness seemed to have met in the expression- of the mouth, and the general formation of the- face. Her hair was very, long and glossy, and hung loosely, but yet gracefully over her shoulders, giving her rather a coquettish appearance. She was dressed evidently with great care ac- cording to the Indian taste, and yet on the whole having an air of easy negligence quite agreeable to the beholder. La Glorieuse held a light and fancifully carved paddle, which she Occasionally dipped into- the wave with a quick and dexterous movement The; birchen vessel, obedient to the impulse, glided on with a steady and untiring motion. The female who sat in the bow of the canoe, was obviously descended from a different race. She was a Frenchwoman of about thirty yearsof age, as nearly as one could judge from her ap- pearance. Her name was' Leona Mablois; but' she usually passed as Madame Mablois among the French,.while the Indians had bestowedupon her the more romantic appellation of Chatakawa1 which means Soft-Voice,' or the woman that sings; which was given her on account of the peculiar sweetness of her voice. Though the blushing beauty of youth had faded from the face of Madame Mablois, it I4d not left it without attractions. A certain degte6 of calm repose had fixed itself upon her featttiea;1 yet they were impressed and somewhat saddened' by visible lines of care and constant'thougft. Her features and manners were still pleasing, and calculated to inspire confidence and friend- ship. Though her face was somewhat darkened by exposure to the open air, it had lost little off its true delicacy, and still retained vestiges of its' pristine loveliness. Her figure was: good, ,a nd possessed that embonpoint so highly esteemedby connoisseurs in beauty as developed in the genes tier sex. Her dress was in keeping with her habits, being a graceful blending of the French and Indian styles. "Our voyage is nearly accomnlished"n aid _ - page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] TUE WHI Madame Mablois. "I can see the smoke of New Orlean&" K what will my white sister do when she gets gerev' asked La Glorieuse, looking earnestly at Leona. "I shall seek an interview with Father Davion," replied the Frenchwoman. a And will my gentle sister tell him all?" con- ttnued La Glorieuse. Madame Mablois covered her face with her hands and sighed. "My red sister is curious," she said, at length, with a forced smile. "It is because her heart has been touched by the sorrows of the Soft-Voice,' rejoined La Glo- riense. "I will keep nothing from you," replied Leona, after a short interval of silence. " I shall be gov- erned by circumstances in regard to what I may reveal to. Father Davion. - If the proper time seems to have arrived, I shall conceal nothing. I have the papers with me, and if anythirtg should befai'me, promise me, my faithful friend, 'that Xeu will secure and keep them as. a sacred de- posit, carrying out my plans so far as you know them.. These papers,,, as you know, intimately cpaeern the happiness of two persons; yes, I slight with propriety say three or four.e I feel that Imust see Henri. I have much to say to «im. If circumstances have assumed a certain aspect, :I shall consider myself so far released fiat my promise as to make disclosures of the latest importance,; but if on the contrary, thinga have taken a different'course, my promise will still be valid, and must be adhered to, how- ever much I may feel disposed to murmur at the decrses offate."., She Frenchwoman may trust to the friend- sMpiof La Glorieuse," said the princess. "She qil1 never desert her friend while the Master of Life,gives her strength and breath." .:'ThaRk you; you are well worthy of the royal bland:which raises you above the common rank,' repl;idMablois. " Ah," said'La Glorieuse, with a smile, "royal bJood is little esteemed by the French people whewtit circulates in the veins of the Indian." 61WWll, let it pass; you are just as much a gihtesa as though your blood was white as my *awrp'Many a princess has ascended a throne o regaldnagnificence,,and governed a people pro fssedly Christian, with a heart far less noble thai yoza" added Madame Mablois. [ Th& face of La Glorieuse lighted up wit] "The Soft-Voice flatters her simple red friend," she said, with a blush. " But here we are among your people." As the Indian maiden spoke, the canoe touched the Levee at New Orleans-that important thing known at the present day as the Levee had not then attained a height and extent worthy of the name, though the earth had been raised to pre- vent the river from inundating its banks, and sweeping away all their efforts at making an in- habitable place, but we shall occasionally take the liberty to call that then imperfect embankment by the name by which it is now known. Mablois stepped from the tiny vessel ; La Glo- rieuse followed her, and together they drew it to a place of security ; this effected, they walked silently towards the residence of Father Davion. Passing what is now called the Public Square, they reached the corner of Conde and Ursuline streets, where the dwelling of Davion was in sight. Both parties paused, for it was evident that something unusual was going forward. They saw more than a score of armed men surround the place silently, and then remain motionless, waiting farther orders. " A French officer knocks at the door with his sword," said La Glorieuse.' " He enters ; and: now another'officer with several- soldiers follows him. Let us go a little - nearer. There goes another man with chains for the wrists." " Handcuffs, those are," said Mablois, in an agitated voice. " Do you hear that voice ?" added La Glori- euse. "I hear a voice, certainly," replied Mablois. "And does.not my pale sister recognize it !* she asked, earnestly. " It is Lesage !" almost shrieked Mablois. " Some great evil menaces Henri. Let me fly to, his assistance !" "Hush !" said La Glorieuse, throwing her arms about Mablois, and forcibly detaining her. " You can do nothing. Woman cannot'save her friends I by the strength of her hands, but by cunning plans. Let us watch'- these movements, white sister, and we shall know what to do." "Iight, my friend, right. The feeble strength' of woman cannot avail against armed men. f What do you see now ?" " I see a tall' young man led forth from the n cabin, and-he has those chains I spoke of upon, his hands. It is Henri. The white warriors take h their places in order; and the war chief with the THE WHITE ROVER. long knife commands them to march. They move away. We will follow them." " They are going towards the prison," added Mablois. Leona and La Glorieuse quickened their pace and kept near the parties until they reached the prison. They saw Henri enter, ard the bolts drawn upon him, and the soldiers return to the barracks, leaving a sentinel posted near the door for greater security. Lesage went to the governor's mansion, and his steps were still silently followed by Madame Mablois and her friend. "Now is the time," said La Glorieuse, " to find out what the danger is that threatens Henri ;" and taking the arm of her less composed com- panion, she drew her to the reai of the governor's house. "You see a light there, Soft-Voice ?" "I do."- " The governor is in that room, and the wily serpent is with him. Here is a tree near the high fence, and another near the window. First we will climb into this, and let ourselves down into the yard by the branches ; then we will climb softly into that, and listen to the words of the great father and chef menteur (lying chief)." This proposal was immediately put into exe- cution-for the indulgent reader will bear in mind that the females of that day could accomplish any feat requiring dexterity and strength, with about the same facility as the other sex. The tree was low, and its ascent easy. La Glorieuse, more practised in the art of forest life, and more agile than her companion, was the first to let herself down into the yard (which would doubtless be called a court at the present time). She assisted Mablois to alight safely upon the ground. Their next care was to attain a suitable position among the branches of the willow grow- ing by the window. This they succeeded in do- ing with much more silence and despatch than might have been anticipated. The tree proved post favorable to their purpose, for with their ears placed close to the window, they were ena- bled to hear the whole of the conversation be- tween De Bienville and Lesage, as we have given it in another place. Having made themselves acquainted with the whole plan of the captain's villany, they descend- ed from the place of their concealment, and after considerable exertion scaled the high fence and left the vicinity. "Do you not see, sister, that cunning is better than strength ?" asked La Glorieuse. "Perhaps what we have done would not be called pardonable by many people," replied Mablois. "It is a mean act to listen to the talk of others merely to gratify curiosity; but to expose a lying chief and save a brave friend, it is right,' an- swered the princess. " Yes, I feel that it must be so. In this case the end to be obtained must justify the means we have been forced to employ to bring about' its consummation. Now tell me frankly, La Glorii euse, do you think we can do anything to save Henri from death? for, unless the truth can" be proved beyond a doubt, I am well assured that De Bienville will not spare him; although it is evident that he feels a strong interest in the 'unhappy youth,' as he is pleased to call him." Mablois spoke in a voice that bore witness-to the intense anxiety which she felt for Henri. " Chef menteur (he was already known among the Natchez as the lying chief) is a bad man. His plans are deep and deadly ; for you know it. is true that there has been a great war-couneit among the war-chiefs of the different, nations.. and it has been resolved to kill all the French.. It is true, also, that many of the negroes are- willing to fight against their masters, and some of them have already run away and found home' among us. " Now all this is against the brave young pal face. The great father is already of the opinior that all this trouble has originated with him; for you see that chef menteur has proved it by th speakingy bark, and the two negroes, besides man other things which he has made use of to blin the eyes of the great father, so that he cann see clearly." "Yes, I understand, La Glorieuse." . " Wh'n the great chief of the French resolve to do a thing, and thinks it is right, he loses ni time by unnecessary delay. If a man is to die, he does not put it off; he says in a terrible voice, ' Lead him out and put him to death.' NobQdy has courage to say, 'you had better wait little. for the great chief would be very angry, and lightning would flash from his eyes." "I know it! I know it !" exclaimed Mablos. "lHe acts with terrible decision when he believes justice requires the punishment of an offender: " You see, then, that if we were to. go to him and say, ' Great father, chef menteur has lied to you,' he would frown upon us, and say, ' Iknow my duty. I do not ask Ltounsel 9f women. Henri dies on the morro~,foghe has planned 27 TE ROVER. 41 page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] TUB 4HITE IOVER. d 4ent uctionof innocent' babes, helpless ivo- pn@ d gray ; eaded old men.'" " What then shall we do ?" cried Mablois, gktydst ressed, "Cannot Father Davion save "Father Dsvien will not be admitted to the council chamber of the governor, for chef menteur' ;1aq rred the doors against him." "hWell, Girieuse?" We m get the young pale face out of the 8 Ofd; hUOse?) e s, Assist him to escape from prison,you meai?" " Yes." "But that would confirm his guilt in the esti- matioh-of the governor, for it is the guilty who se ksafety in flight'." Bt it will save his life ; for in a ~few weeks e'dust will'getout of the governor's eyes, and he whfee clearly ; but nd he is blind, and be- IfhiSrecovers his sight the young Frenchman wilIlbe Vut to death, and then what can make . T p Age " "Upon reflectionmy better judgment tells in that you are.right. Do yot not think that Helen Lerowe might aid us in effecting his escape from prison ?" La Glorieuse shook her head thoughtfully. " The white maiden can do' but little at pres- ent, because she will be closely watched by chef menteur," said the princess. "Pierre Moran would do better." " What can he do, La Glorieuse ?" " Climb up to the prison window and remove the iron bars, so that the young man may escape. "Let us seek him at once !" cried Mablois. " We shall be likely to hear of him at Monsieur Ridelle's, for it is said he is smitten with the fair face of Adelaide." Arrived at Ridelle's, their astonishment can hardly be imagined when they were informed that a warrant had been issued for Pierre Mo- ran's arrest, and that to avoid imprisonment he had fled to the woods. A FAINT glow in the east heralded the com- ing day. Onalaska, chief of the Chickasaws, stood silently by the bay of St. Louis. Revolv- ing in his mind his own mighty plans, he had wandered away ffrpm his warriors through the pathless forest, nor stayed his footsteps until he reached the margin of Lake Borgne, at the fair bay bearing the name of the great king. With folded arms and abstracted air, he gazed. steadfastly upon the beautiful sheet of water now dimly lighted by the first crimson streaks of day- light. A shade of care and anxiety rested upon the chieftain's brow. Savage as he was, he had doubtless found the task ofagoverning and shap- ing the actions of a numerous people not an easy one. " How calmly the waters are sleeping," he said, musingly. " The red men rested as quietly among their native hills, before the pale faces came among them. But now there is no rest for the sons of the forest, once the undisturbed owners of this great country. Where now are the Indian's lakes and rivers, and hunting grounds ?" - Oaalaska paused. Painful thoughts agitated liis;bosom. "The white man and the red cannot occupy the same country," he added. " These French dogs must be swept away, or the 'Indians will perish. I feel that it must be: so ; something unseen and solemn seems to whisper it in my ear." Again the chieftain was silent. When he re- sumed, his voice was louder and sterner, and his brow was contracted into a forbidding frown. " If my brethren will be governed by me,'if they will keep the vows made in the sight of ihe Great Spirit, and written upon the clouds with his finger, we shall live to see the trees growing upon the ruins of the French settlement, and the deer feeding upon the grass where cotton is flourishing." A slight rustling among the dry leaves caused the warrior to lay his lhanmd upon his knife. A moment he stood in the fixed attitude of atten- tion, with his keen -eyes directed towatrds the surrounding trees. No object was visible, and the sound did not immediately recur. " It was the footstep of the timid hare or the sportive squirrel," said Onalaska to himself, and relapsed agfiin into a state of reverie. "The Africans despise their masters,{,ha added. " The red man has wisely taught them to hate servitude, and they are impatient forithe hour of emancipation. Already are they form- ing plans for the establishment of' a republic ! Fools ! will the Indians'destroy the French, for the sake of giving the country-to spiritless cow CHAPTER VI. RED-SHOE-THE PANTHER. yr, $ '. . ' 4 4 r I § f 'S Z ti!,i - page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] s0 THE WHITE ROVER. ards, who seem fitted by nature for no other the neighboring red nations, and the negroes place than that tiey noW occupy. The blood of also, to deadly hostility against his countrymen. the red man ltd the black was never intended Upon this grave charge he has been imprisoned, to mingle apy more than that of the red and the and will be put to death before forty-eight hours, white. Were the Banvaras to recover their unless he be rescued by some cunning hand." freedom, they could not keep it ; they were born " Who has charged the friendly ale face with slaves, and their hearts are not big enough to a crime so heinous ?" appreciate the blessings of freedom, and to gov- " Chef Menteur." ern themselves. But we will not harm them "The French captain is justly named the when their masters are no more. We will give 'lying chief!' exclaimed Red-Shoe. "He is a them a piece of ground, and they shall dwell by viper-a snake creeping in the grass, and I hope themselves, when they will, no doubt, in their some day, to crush him with my heel." craven-heartedness, soon sigh for the servitude " May the Master of Life fulfil your hope," they have lift. It were good that the black men said La Glorieuse, earnestly. "Now tell me if return to t14eir own country, since they are not you cannot devise some plan by which to save worthy of fi'eedoml; for they cannot hunt, fish, the White Rover ?" and make ivar like the red men, and are not full " That will be a difficult task," answered the o' cunninginventions like the whites." chieftain, thoughtfully. " The French people Again there was a rustling sound among the are now aware of the intentions of the red men, leaves, aid a slight crackling among the dry and they will be continually on the alert. How sticks upon the ground. can I approach New Orleans without being dis- Onalaska was completely aroused. He drew covered and slain ? When I put my life in peril, his tomahawk hastily from his belt, and as he I endanger our whole enterprise ; for I am (as did so he saw a human figure emerge from the you know) the prime mover in the contemplated covert of the trees-and stand beside the lake at warfare of extermination. The young man is te water's edge, a few yards distant. accused of a grievous crime (though innocent)- "Red-Shoe I" said a gentle voice. for a renegade -is hateful to all people and races, "Is it thou, La Glorieuse ?" exclaimed Ona- and justly deserves to die. He is a miscreant laska,,with a start of surprise. who betrays his own blood ; and every honest " It is the daughter o e Natchez," replied heart revolts against the seller, of his kindred. the princess,,calmly. - While a person is supposed to be guilty of a "And why is the proud descendant of the great wickedness, it is the same, while that belief 'Suns' here"at this hour, and alone ?" asked prevails, as though he were really, guilty ; it is the chieftain, anxiously. thus with our French friend, and when his sup- "Listen, great warrior, and I will tell you posed guiltiness becomes known among his peo- why you see me here, near the encampment of plc, they will drag him from the stone house, the Chickasaw braves."- and he will die amid mad revilings and execra- The stately chieftain bowed, and a smile of tions ; and if his imagined crime does not become pleasure lighted momentarily his swarthy fea- generally known, there is still no hope, for he tares, will die by the order of the great French chief." "Mysears are open, daughter of the ' Suns.' " " Onalaska, you have a fearless heart," said "The young Frenchman who is known among the princess. " Your hand is strong, -your voice us as the' 'White Rover,' is in danger," said the is terrible in battle, your feet swift to pursue an princess. enemy, and your brain is full of cunning devices. "And is that what brings you hither, fair You can, by some means, save the life of this princes'"asked Red-Shoe, with a smile of pe- young Frenchman. You are'celebrated for the culiar meaning, which did not pleae La Glo- greatness of your exploits ; perform yet another rieuse. deed that shall add fresh laurels to your name." "The White Rover is not my lover, chief of "But why, beautiful princess," returned the th}Chickasaws," she answered, somewhat impa- chief, with a soft voice and a pleasant smile, tlendy,uand with rauch dignity. "do you not apply to your own people, the ,o. pn, daughter of the ' Suns," said Ona- Natchez? Are they not also great warriors' and laskadnaa more kindly voice. '"are not their hearts big'! Where is Strong- "The young Srerichman is accused of inciting Serpent, the Great Sun'!" THE( WHIT "He knows nothing of the dangeraf Henri Delcroix. The distance to Walnut Village is considerable, and before anything could be done by the Great Sun, the friend of the Indiaamight be no 'more. Whatever is done for his rescue must be quickly done, for the justice of the great French chief does not linger.". "You speak well, La Glorieuse. It is far to the Walnut Village, and you have done wisely in seeking me. The White-Rover has the blood, of a hated race in his veins, but'it has become of a red color by mingling freely; among us. I would not have him slain for a crime.of which he is not guilty. He-s my friend ; and it were, shame that the friend of Onalaska should die without a single effort having been made to save' him." - " Your brave words make the heart of the Natchez maiden glad," replied La Glorieuse, joy- fully. " She knew that Red-Shoe would not for- sake the man he called his friend." "It shall never be said of Onalaska that he ran from an enemy,' or 'forsook his friend," re- plied the warrior, p oudly. " In this the proud princess has-not mistaken me ; but she knows not how truly the heart of the warrior loves her. She turns a deaf ear to his words ; she will not understand the language of his eyes and actions; yet the lodge fire of Onalaska will never burn brightly and cheerfully until she kindles it and sits beside it. It is well that the fair descendant of the 'Suns' is called 'The Proud."' The chieftain ceased, and folded his arms proudly, yet sorrowfully, upon his, broad chest. " There is a time for all things, great chieftain," observed the princess, with gentle dignity. " The maiden Sun did not come hither in the hour of darkness to listen to the eloquent love tales of a brave warrior. She came to appeal to his mag- nanimity and courage in order to save a friend from death, though that friend be of another race. It were not comely in a princess of the blood to make a jo rrney to another nation to be wooed."- " The words of La Glorieuse are just, though they make the spirit of dnalaska sad," -returned the warrior, respectfully. " Love is a sentiment so strong in the hearts of brave men, that some- times it is hard to conceal it. With that power- ful sentiment the Ohickasaw chief has long struggled in vain. He will still struggle and be aman" " The resolution is worthy oftyour great name and deeds of renown," said the princess, mildly. '1 E ROVER. 31 "If the peerless Sun woulcease to have me love her, let her speak," less 'generously of my deeds ; for praise is sweet i 4 $ hen it drops from her sweet lips," returne' aska , in a voice soft as woman's when she a pleasse. " Then must the subject be changed," replied La Glorieuse, with a pleasant smile. " Will the' chieftain tell the daughter of the Natchez what he proposes to do for the White Rover ?" " When the night has come, and darkness has fallen upon the face of the earth, Onalaska will seek the village of the French. His step shall be soft as the falling snow. He will steal along like the crawling serpent. He will scale the prison fence, remove the bars of a window, and the White Rover shall be tree." "The war-chief will need the aid of a white man," said La Glorieuse. "There is one called Pierre Moran, who might be useful." "He is a brave man, though a Frenchman," replied Onalaska. " He was but lately rescued from the warriors of Onalaska by the hand-of the White Rover. His heart is large towards him, Red-Shoe will' consider upon what La Glorieuse has said."' " The errand of the Natchez girl' is done," re- plied the princess. '" Her heart is full of grati- tude. She will hasten back to speak comforting words to the woman of the soft voice." With a smile and a graceful wave of the hand, she turned and walked quickly away. Onalaska gazed after her until her figure was hidden by the trees. The first rays of the rising sun' fell along the quiet lake.. With a sigh Onalaska sought the encampment of his warriors. The chieftain had gone but a short distance, when, emerging from the shade of some tall sycamores, he perceived a white man with a rifle on his shoulder, moving rapidly towards Lake Pontchartrain. "Pierre Moran !" shouted Red-Shoe, in aloud voice. The hunter stopped and looked about him, Suddenly his eyes rested on the majestic figure of Onalaska. He cocked his rifle, and bringing it to his shoulder, laid his face upon the breech and glanced 'along the deadly barrel. " Hold !" cried Red-Shoe ;-"I have news from the White Rover." The breech of Pierre Moran's rifle fell to the ground when the sound of the White Rover's name reached his ears. " We did not part on the best of terms, Ona' laska, -but if you have aught to say concerning page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] TREW WHITE ROVER. Henrielroix, Zamrea4 to hear you," replied when I saw you hurrying away. Meet me here. or~ai: to-morrow night, and we will enter the Freich TIyou$ ehman is shut up in the village together." - :tghouse s the chief. "Most willingly;i you may rely upon me. I, "I kad answered Moran. owe the White Rover a debt of gratitude, as: 'The g t chief of -the French will put him you know, and I will repay it at the hazard of to dctf,"added Odalaska. my life."' "is thatalf you wished to say to me ?" re- ." Take this belt of wampum," replied Red- turned Pierre. Shoe; "wear it about your waist. If you fall in "Would you not save him if you could ?" with-any of may people, it will'save you' from said -RedShoe. their vengeance." 4Atthe risk of my life," rejoined Pierre. Moran took the belt. He was in, the -act of "Prisons, I have heard, have been broken fastening it upon his person in the manner indi- and the condemned set at liberty," added the cated, when the sharp crack of a rifle resounded chieftain. through the woods, and a bullet whistled through: " That's very true,"gesumed Pierre, musingly. his long beard within an inch of his' chin, and f1ed-Shoe watched the countenance of the passing near the head of Red-Shoe, lodged in hunter in silence. the trunk of a cottonwood. A tuft of hair sev- - " What do you propose to do ?" asked Moran, ered by the leaden messenger fell upon the {*ile T new gleam of light seemed to flash into hunter's bosom.- Eis nind. Simultaneously Pierre and Onalaska plunged 4'1avh the White Rover from death," replied into the forest and ran swiftly towards the point RedShoe. "'I have called him friend in hours whence came the' harmless shot. They saw a ofaifbty and peace, and now I will prove my slender column of smoke curling up through the. friendship in hours of adversity and danger. He trees, and then the figure of a man running with is idworthy the sacred name of friend who flies much speed. ' t the approach of misfortune." Pierre Moran raised his, rifle and fired. The. What do I hear !" exclaimed Moran. " Are distance was long, but the'^shot evidently took" these indeed the words of an Indian chief ? effect. - The runner faltered in his flight, swayed Wheices come these lofty sentiments ? who to one side like one drunken, and then flew on taught you a code of honor so noble-so honor- again with arrow-like swiftness towards New, able-both to heart and-head ?" Orleans. "Iwas educatedlin , the great school of Na- " He is wounded in the shoulder," said Ona- tore:; 1"have received instruction from every- laska, " but not mortally. It is useless to pursue thing you can see about. you; from trees and him farther, for he is swift of foot." flowers from hills, mountains and valleys; from "Do you know him?",asked the hunter. 1hies: rivers and plaits !" replied Onalaska,- "I know him well. He is called Ette-Actal, proudly. the Natchez renegade." SIt is well spoken, savage chieftain., Yottr " And is doubtless in the employ of Lesage," words might well put many a Frenchman to the. added;Moran. fin ? .A fit companion for clef menteur," replied " Frenchman !" exclaimed Onalaska, with an Red-Shoe. empression-of ineffhble.contempt. "Talk not'of " I now remember having seen Lesage in close Frenchnien; to me ; they are overrunning' my conference with an Indian ; he was thus engaged, ep adc destroyig my people.". - . ' ; the last time I saw him fat New Orleans. He 'The ;chief:folded his arms upon his breast, hasemployed this renegade to, rid him of one and his chest heavediith unutterable emotions. too deeply in his confidence. The fact is, Cap- iWerior,"said Pierre Moran, after 'a short tain Lesage mistook his man. From certain. interval of silence, "are ydu wilIin to forget things which;he had heard, he formed theopin- :. # '! hatred of the Frenh for a night and assist ion that I was a sort of brigand and common metodese Ie Henri Deleroix: from the meshes assassin, ready to sell my services to the highest. of villany that have been so artfully, woven bidder without remorse. But he has discovered arouuddhin - - his mistake, and now knows .that the tales "TI anar*und for that eason I spoke to you which he heard in relation to me were false as 4 THE WHITE ROVER. his own base heart, and seeks my destruction in order that I may not betray his plans. It is not safe to listen to every idle rumor, nor to write a man down a villain because his face is not a prepossessing one. That shot was aimed at me," said Moran. " And if he does not eventually succeed in killing you, it will be because you bear a charmed life," returned Red-Shoe. " I have often heard the name of the Natchez renegade, but never met him in my wanderings; but if chance should ever throw him in my way, he will not live to say he has seen Pierre Moran again-the hunter of the Mississippi Valley." " If there is anything on earth that my soul turns from with loathing, it is a renegade," said Red-Shoe. "And a coward, you might have added," said Pierre. " It is well thought of, brave Frenchman. A renegade and a coward may be coupled together, and not be unequally yoked." While Red-Shoe was speaking, an object met the eye of Pierre Moran well calculated to try the courage of both. The hunter's practised ear had heard a slight sound among the branches of the trees. Looking up with the-quickness of a vet- eran of the woods, he saw a huge and wellknown animal crouched upon the limb of-a lofty oak, not a dozen yards from the chief, who was a little in advance. - "Look !" said the hunter, in a suppressed voice; without withdrawing his fixed gaze from the terrible monster. The warrior raised his eyes And saw death staring 'him in the face ; for it was the animal most dreaded the red men, and called almost universally by the singular name of the'" Indian Devil." The bravest of the brave, if he discovered the track of the paonther when' hunting, turned back with a shudder. He feared to encounter an animal so powerful, and endowed with a cunning almost human. lie had rather meet some war party of his enemies at fearful odds, for with, them he could fight with-some hope of success; but who could contend with a foe that could not *The another hAs thus been styled by the Indiaos. '33 be seen until his resistless paws were rending him in pieces, or until he looked down from some stately tree in the act of springing i No ; the Indian did not choose to make war upon the sagacious and all-conquering panther. Onalaska met the gaze of the monster with Roman firmness. The fore paws of the animal were thrust out along a large limb, and the hinder legs were drawn up under him. The hair upon the back seemed to stand erect, and there was an undulating, snaky motion of the long tail. The eyes sent forth malignant fires- flashed and burned like glowing coals. The mouth was slightly open, displaying rows of white, sharp teeth, and the tongue lying within them like the sting of some monster serpent. His hot breath seemed to have infected the air and made it rank with the odor of death. The long bristling hair about the huge jaw i-worked and trembled with the quivering motion of the nether lip-an indication of hostility too deadly not to be well known to the observant eye of the hunter. The hand of Red-Shoe was, upon his knife. He had laid it there at the moment of looking upward ; for he had left his rifle at the encamp- ment-a neglect which now promised to prove fatal to the chief. The panther was evidently about to leap, and had chosen the nearest vie. tim; this the proud Indian knewi but governing, with the strength of a diseiplined and mighty will, the natural shrinkings of human nature, he appeared calm and self-reliant. The panther drew himself back. upon his haunches, with his fore feet still placed cat-like upon the trunk of the limb, while the motions of the tail-grew quicker and more deeided,a and the eyes literally appeared to dart rays of4flame. - The nerves of the hunter were still. ,There was no'tremor of the ha d or heart when he suddenly raised his rifle; no film of teo idims med his eyes as he glanced along the barrel;.and brought the unerring sights to bear -upon' the scourge of the forest. Pierre Moran fired ; the panther leaped and fell quivering at the chieftain's - feet.: ,A ,few throes of expiring agony convulsed:its frilne, and the beatingsof its heart were hushedforever, ,I page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] r4 CIIAPTEII VII. THE RENEGADE. "vrTEnA Ar-the renegade--was one of the- tnosticnuiing of his race, without the redeeming qualities of truth and=nobleness of soul, traits of cliaraeter often fund amongthe Natchez. 4 Compelled to fly from his own people on ac' " otuitof: his duplicity -and' wickedness, he had found;_a;temporary home among the Frerich; often acting as a spy,:and sometimes as a guide, though not ver~y highly esteemed by his employ- er Who' feareIl to trust-him' out of their sight whew there was; ariy probability that another aty mightfeel disposed, to' 'buy hin' over to thels interest by the offer :of a.more liberal rewaid. - - -s T6scheming aid plottingman like Lesage, hewas indeed valuable acquisitions notwith standinghis:well 'known :treachery, for it was thesent ry qualities that he 'wished to.call into action in order to carry forward his plans. Mdkiegglhe renegade h few presentsroccasion- a l, And -liberal promises, he soon won him over mhis service,ands:acquired considerable influx +n e 'iupan hie -mind,.'Lesage,.after learning that Pierre Moran was not the man he had been represented, was filled with apprehension. He bad good reason to fear that his dark plottings, for the destruction of Henry Delcroix, might transpie and come to the ears of the governor, wich'tught result in the most serious conse- quences to himself. In order to prevent an ex- posure so important, and perhaps ,fatal, he de- termitned to involve Pierre Moran in the.same destruction which he had so ingeniously prepared for Henri.' Being now on intimate, terms with his excellency, on account of the ;valuable ser- vice he had, apparently, rendered under;circum- stances of peculiar emergency, it needed but ,a word to procure.the arrest of; Moran; but the latter; as we have seen, fled to rthe woods in time to avoid the catastrophe.' Thus baffled; the captain resolved upon anoth- er plan of operation. ,He lost no tithe in-finding Ette-Actal, who. for a trifling sum,. agreed.to rid hims of-one he had;so mugch r ontoo dread. Stimulated by the hope of reward, and urged on by the natural 'cruelty of his disposition,,the renegade had 'entered with alacrity upon the task assigned- him, An opportunity offered itself sooner than he expected; but he had missed his aarky and received in return a painfutlthugh not dangerous wound in the shoulder. Recov- ering from the momentary shock, he ranforward with great swiftness, and abated not his speed until he reached the border'of the French settle- ment. Feeling comparatively safe from pursuit, he proceeded to bind up his wound as well as the circumstancesof the case would admit. Having completed this necessary task, he sa I I THE WHII down upon a mossy knoll, smarting with pain and faint with loss of blood. The renegade, like many of his race, was extravagantly fond of fire-water, and while cogitating a plan to gratify his taste for the dangerous beverage, the pain of his wound gradually ceased, and over- come with fatigue, he sank into a profound slum- ber. From this happy state of'unconsciousness he was aroused by a gentle touch upon his shoulder. Upon opening his heavy eyes, with a start of surprise, he beheld Lesage standing beside him with an anxious expression upon his face. "What news ?" he asked, hurriedly. The renegade looked vacantly into his face without reply. " Mon Dieu! what ails the man !" he exclaimed, impatiently. " Can 'you' tell 'me anything of Pierre Moran ?" he added, quickly. "White hunter has gone long journey," re- plied the Indian, gravely. "Where is he gone ? Why did you let him escape ?" asked Lesage. "Gone towards the south-way- very long- never come back." " What.!" exclaimed the 'lying chief,' his face lighting up with a sudden gleam of intelligence and triumph. " The land of souls is far off," added the rene- gade. "When the red man goes-there he travels toward the south, through great forests and over high mountains, until he reaches the' river that separates the happy hunting grounds from the country of mortal men ; there he finds a white stone canoe, and passes over to'the country of] shadows. The White hunter has gone there, and' now talks with the shadowy people." "When was the deed done, and how ?" asked Lesage, in an eager and excited tone. " Does thehench chief see this I" said the- renegade, po ing to his blanket,'which was saturated' with'blood. " I see-.you are wounded,'? answered 'Lesage. " Yes; I found the hunter in the woods. He was not alone.' -He was talking wi hiReddShoe, the great'+ arrior. As -I steod watching him, I- stepped upon a dry limb and made a noise. He looked up and saw me. The white hunter: is very skilful 'with his rifle, and he fired, before I. could cock my gun, ant I received a ball inmy shoulder. 'I instantly fired.e Pierre:Moran fell, and Ilifed" , But are 'yoit sure 'you-inflicted ai mortals wounded ' asked Lesage.s _ . ;,.; ry r 'E ROVER. 85 " Very sure, for I took aiin at his head. Nei ther white man nor red, can live when shat through the head," replied Ette-Aetal. For a short time the captain was 'silent, le'. apparently, in the mazes of his own thought. "Are you badly wounded ?" he asked, looking steadfastly at the renegade. " Very sore; have much pain; want str water," said the renegade. " I have a bottle of the fire-water in my et," replied Lesage. " It will do you good."' The captain paused, and looked toward Lake Borgne intently. " I thought I heard a sound," he added, with well, affected alarm. "Ette-Actal, your-eyes are quick and strong ; look steadfastly in that direction." The renegade turned his eyes towards the point indicated, and gazed fixedly, for he had some fears that it might be Pierre Moran him. self. While he was thus engaged, Lesage emp. tied into the' bottle he had drawn from his pocket, the contents of-a small phial. When the rene- gade turned towards him, again, the captain placed the bottle of strong-water in his' hand. " Drink," he said, with a smile.' "It will-make your heart big with courage;' it Will'quiet your pain ; it will make you forget all. 'ur sorrows; it will make you sleep soundly,'ay, ry soundly; it will cause you to feel all the joys of the happy hunting grounds, and to dream of the white stone canoe, with its shining paddles, which floats on the waters of the river of life. Drink,,red man, drink." The renegade placed the bottle beneath his blanket with a smile of satisfaction. "You have done me an iitportant service," added Lesage. '"Come to- me to-morrow, and I will give you twenty pounds." - There waa a smile--though scarcely perceptible-of(peculiar significance on the lipsof the- captain as he spoke these words and turned away. In a few minutes he' had'disappeared 'among the trees, repeating to himself his :last remark. «' Yet, come -te"me to-mOrrow, and I will give you twenty poundiP- 'The renegade drew the bottle of strongwetei' from beneath-his'blanket, and holding it-up be- tween hiseyes 'and 'the 'sun, thus apostrophized it : ' t " ' ' "' " Great medicine art thou. The red, man is strong but thoue art stronger. GThou malkess lions ofilambs. OThou causept the hdarttobe madly with sjoy. Thoou givest- oeiara th* _e c page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 86. gogard ard ta4pst the strength from the limbs tthe brsyestwarrior. A strange thing art thou O re-waterly sltte-Atal concluded his speech, he raised the bottlet4 fi lip5. "Hold I":said a clear, ringing voice. The renegade turned his head towards the speaker, and beheld the majestic figure of La Glorieuse regarding him with an expression of t uptterable contempt, not unmingled with pity Abashed and confounded the renegade averted his eyes, nor dared to meet-the disdainful glance of the princess again. Contemptible traitor !" said La Glorieuse, what would you give to feel like an honest ma ,:, But that can never be. Never again can ydtri& one of your people in the face. You are cursed forever with ,the name of renegade 1" EtteActal. lifted not his head, and attempted no reply. -i.e was not yet so dead to honor and same as not to feel the force of her keen rebuke. "You have turned traitorto the Natchez, and s1ld yourself to Chef Menteur," added the prin- g ' In{this case falsehood has met falsehood, an'treachery hasmet treachery. It is thus that th:wicked are punished. You have served Chef Menteur, puId you have deceived him also, and' be 1s rewarded you with death-just recom- ~ pa for crimes like yours." x TPatht!" exclaimedathe renegade. es deati" added the princess, " and it is jtlhat(bottle;"; o .You always said that .the white man's fire- water was bad," replied the renegade, relieved Qf~ssfears. ".It were perhaps no more than just," con- ulanupLa Glorieuse, in the same lofty, rebuking le, Yto let you reap the reward of your villany ; .st the contemplation of such a loathsome object spogipe toco passion, and I will stoop to weveyou from the death. to which the lying chief 1 i*doned .you.He ibas repaid you for at- S eplig thp life;of'the white hunter by poison- ing the accursed fire-water-which yourwere about tisllpw.' stood behind yonder tree; I heard all--and to bafle a greater villain than yourself, Jgnadeeg to:saveyou Were you to drink tbgcpnteput8sof that ottle, yotwould never see e*ngo d wn iegaininthe distantwest; and to-morrowmorning when he comes up refreshed q dbyl? ter,hi beams would fa s upon a dead fan& 4 4 face distcrted with the protracted deat struggle. Hunters passing with il o Af contendet; 'It is: th ~ he renegade.'" s. Ette-Actal shuddered ; for a traitor is invaria- bly. afraid of death. " This fire-water you say is poisoned !" he I exclaimed. " Yes, I say it, and speak truly. I saws him pour in the deadly drug, and noted the expres- sion of his face. Do you. remember what he said : 'Ette-Actial, your eyes are strong and f quick ; look steadfastly towards Lake Borgne.' While you were doing as you were bidden, he -drugged the fire-water." "I thank you, princess," said the renegade, with some feeling. " And though I am cast out from among my people, and wander up and down with the broad brand of infamy upon my brow, I will not forget this service. If the time should -ever come when one like me can serve La Glorieuse, I shall be ready to peril my life for her sake." "It is well," replied the princess, in a more friendly tone. "Even a renegade may have some feelings in common with others. You have rendered yourself unworthy to serve me, but I will forget it and allow you to render me an important service." " Speak your will, princess," replied Ette-Ac- tal, humbly. . " Hasten to the Walnut Village,and tell Stung- Serpent-the Great Sun--to send me twelve of the bravest warriors without delay. Bid him mount them upon the fleetest horses, and to send, two of the best for the use of the princess," said La Glorieuse. "But no one would speak to me, orcredit my words, should I do as you bid me," returned the renegade, while his red face grew crimson with shame. "I understand," resumed the princess,drawing a ring from her finger. " Take this, and it will' save you from insult and abuse. boldly, and fear nothing. But I had nearly otten your wound ; will it prevent you from travelling ?" " It will not prevent me from travelling to serve La Glorieuse," replied the renegade. " Then away upon your journey, and remem- ber that I have power to'wipe away a portion of your disgrace. Serve me well in..whatever I bid you, and Iwill not prove ungenerous.- But' mark me; attempt no deceit; 'I:*ill not be tri-, fled with, for I am a princess,,and have power, to crush you into the dust, *ere I: disposedjto retaliate upon one who has proved himself Uns worthy of his origin. Appear they same0e Chef Menteur as hiherto. If he should-be surprised I UE WHITE, ROVER. you said." " AlasI my poor girl, you, comprehend me but too well, as that changing cheek and those' trembling limbs confess. My dear boy ' hsi fallen.under the governor's displeasure, ai4&1 know not for what, and I am here, at this lat hour, to seek an interview with him. I will never leave his presence until I know of what he is accused," said Davion, emphatically. " I can whisper a single name in your e6, Father Davion, that will furnish a key to unleCk- the whole mystery," replied Helen. " Speak it, my good Helen," added the prie t, "Lesage I" said Helen, impressively. For a moment Davion made no reply, bit stood lost in his own reflections. " A light breaks in upon my mindj';"hbeIO at length. " I think I perceive some ftintgih- merings of the truth. He has paid much defet- ence to you of late, Helen. I am old, but i i - not blind. Though I may not grasp a newire with the same quickness that a younger -M might, yet when a key to a train of thokti and actions has been given me, I n1ild them up with wonderful theility. Tell*D ,s daughter, has Captain Lesage annoyed yui" "'I would that I could answer in the negative," said Helen. " I regret that this is so," added Davien. "And no one regrets it more deepJf thait myself," rejoined Helen, with a sigh. "Save your lover," returned the priet. Helen's eyes sought the floor, nor did =h. e - tire to raise therd for sometime. "Nay, Helen, spare your blushae. Baeii*:DIl ecroix is worthy your ov dd D ao n.' " Thenyou do not repro is re id - ther Davion had hastened to the residence of de Bienville. A servant assured him that the gov- ernor was engaged and could not be seen ; but the good old man, stimulated by his love for his- young friend, had urgently persisted in his re- quest. "Go back," said Davion, with dignity, "and tell your master that his old friend-a man with white hairs-demands audience." Awed by the dignified and authoritative air of Father Davion, the attendant obeyed, and soon returned with the welcome intelligence that his excellency would grant him a very brief in- terview in the course of half an- hour. Bidding him wait the governor's leisure in the ante-room, the servant withdrew. His heart was a prey to the most intense anxiety. He paced the apart- ment' impatiently, indulging in a thousand con- jectires in relation to the cause of Henri's arrest. "Father Davion!" said a gentle voice. . " Helen Lerowe i" exclaimed the priest;while a momentary gleam-of happiness and hope irra- diated his v 1le face. " I was thinking -of you. - Can ' nform me what this strange pro- ceeding portends'?" "I do not comprehend you. I know not to what proceeding you allude," replied Helen, somewhat confused, for at that moment she re- called to mind what had passed between herself and Henri upon the morning of that very day. "Henri Deleroix has been arrested by the order of the governor, and is now in prison," said i)vion. . The face of Helen Lerowe grew pale as mar- ble. She recoiled a ste+ and grasped a chair for sup rt. "$peak adin, good father 1" she exclaimed, 8 THE WHITE -ROVE. to see you among livinginen-and be assured " I hear and comprehend, daughter 4 te he will-do not heed it; still manifest the same Sun," answered the renegade. willingness to serve him; but find some way to " Then obey," returned La Glorieuse, i convey to me a thorough knowledge of all his dignity, and drawing her mantle closer about plans. Do you hear and comprehend me, Ette- her queenly figure, passed from the sight of the Aetal ?" renegade. CHAPTER VII AN INTERVIEW. Il(MEDIATELif after the arrest of Henri, Fa- with emotion. "I do not well understand what r ; ' .. _ page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] THE WHITE ROVER. THE WHITE ROVER. 89 a] [repoach you. not, neither do I approve Wee you differently situated in life, it would gg my heart glad to, see my two children-I hve called you children for many years-united an madie happy in a mutual love; but as you both are now situated, I can see nothing before you but disappointment and sorrow. May God in mercy avert the impending calamity, and temper the winds of trouble to the shorn lamb." "Most fervently and humbly I join in the pe- tition," added Helen, devoutly. * Can you tell me who is with the governor ?" "Captain Lesage," replied Helen. "Filling his ears with poison," added Davion, with emphasis. "I must fathom that mat-I must read his purposes as I would read a book. There issomething wrong ; it shall be mine to And it and bring it to the light." 4At bat moment the servant re-appeared with tbitelligewce that the governor was ready to i"Helen;' he added, in a low voice, as he passed fva thegroom, "meet me in the ante-room, after u*yinterview with de Bienville." Aiho followedithe servant he saw Lesage de- part by. private entrance. Father Davion," said de Bienville, in a mild tuglfarm voice, "I well know, why you have sought me. Out of compassion to you, and to *pat-mygelf an ungenial task, I had thought to refuse you angsudience ; Jut you have prevailed." saveyour:;compassion for another'object," replied the priest. "I require it not. I have spige atbat age when Irequire compassion oggSfg Maker I shall ask no pity for these g w a of men; when I appeal for mercy for ywelft shall be to Heaven. I now ask, but tlatot theworl de Bienville. I shall soon egeh nge the cowl for the crown, and the domino q f y*Nitgarment." yyourbo spared to us long, Father Da- "r plied.-the governor, respectf lly., 1][e spare me Ao longer than I am use- S. I cease, tQ benefit my fellow-men -to love mercy,. to deal justly, and to. walk humblywith God, then may I cease to exist. ligg y r excellscy, will you inform me why Henri DeIeroi en imprisoned ?" "If you lesire ,I assuredly will,,however munch Micuty may pain me, and afdict yourself. -enri Deleroix, the yong nqau who has been Your fBsteingcare from childhood, * arm auio-a 4elen, and the abject of , NA rlp ,1et ev m-e, has been cont ieted of one of the most aggavated of all crimes, the, blackest of all sins-the .extreme wickedness of betraying his countrymen to a cruel and re- morseless enemy, selling helpless women and children to the hatchet and scalping knife. He is a traitor-forgetful of the hand that fed him, of the people who gave him a home, of the blood that flows in his veins ; and by all that is sacred, were he my own son, or my own brother, he should die before forty-eight hours, were it the last act of my administration." "No ! no !" exclaimed Father Davion, trem- bling with the violence of his emotions. " It cannot be so ; there must be some mistake. It is not in human nature to be so base." "Father Davion," said the governor, in tones of thrilling solemnity, "there is no mistake ; but I would that mistake were possible. !I have proof positive of his guilt. Do not, as you love. justice, and respect yourself, and me, and the, authority vested in me, attempt: to move me to compassion, or to shake my resolution. I tell you there is no alternative; he must die-and he stalll., While de Bienville spoke, his eyes flashed fire, his nostrils seemed to dilate like those of the war-horse when he smells the battle afar off, and feels that he must rush into the thickestof the fight ; his chest-rose and fell with the vio- lence - of his emotions, and his fingers worked convulsively upon the pen which he held in his right hand. " With this,,my pen," he added, in a voice of deep energy "I will sign the death warrant of Henri DeleroixI" - Father Davion was awed by the solemn and energetic manner of de Bienville. " Be.calm," he said, after a pause, "and let, me hear what proof you have , of Henri's guilt." The governor then entered in detailed ac- count of the whole conspiracy, derstood it. The testimony of Captain Lesage was ad- duced, bolstered up by the testimony of the ne- groes ; and all the evidence that tended to crim- mate Henri was skilfully summed up.. When he had:finished, he looked sorrowfully at Father Davion. The latter was confounded ; for the chain of evidence was indeed very per- fect, and no links appeared wanting. " Can you now say, good father, that Irhave . not followed the dictates of a sound judgment in condemning this young man ?" said the gov- ernor. "I see, indeed, a startling array of -evidence; but my heart is not head is somewhat at is some duplicity an of all this. Governor it all the work ofa eu though I confess I Davion, with much very fact of his being firm the governor in m an adv ntage. "The young man of," replied uis excel head. " You will, at least an impartial trial!" overwhelmed with gr " He shal be broil and I shall xamine placed face to face wit me, Father 9avion, ii form; for you see thu him to establish his ii against him is direct "Do you know, G Helen Lerowe, your man ?" added Davio The face of de B1c He fell back into his partly arisen, as if he blow upon his person and looked into theft air of vacant wonder. yet nvinced, though the los4 Believe me, there wic edness at the bottom de, ienville, I pronounce ning and insidious enemy ; anno explain it," replied embarrassment;, but the embarrassed served to con- 11s opinions, and afforded s no enemies that I know ency, with a shake of the grant him the privilege of xclaimed Father Davion, ef. ght before me to-morrow, im myself, and lie shall be his accuser. But believe will be a mere matter of t it will be impossible for nocence, and the evidence to the point." vernor de Bienville, that air ward, loves this young , in a low, impressive tone. nville turned deadly pale. chair, from which he had had received a crushing For a moment hes ce of the priest with n By a masterly effort the governor recovered i a measure his self-posses- sion. The color ca e back - to his face ; he passed his hand-over is brow as if collecting his scattered thoughts, a d then replied in avoice tolerably calm, thong much changed: "This is strange ne s indeed ; it fills me with astonishment. How ong since you were certain of this" 4 "Within the hour I had it from Helen's lips." "Leave me, Father avion," said de Bienville, abruptly. "I would fain be alone.. I am as tired of governing as ever Sancho Panza was when he was governo of Barrataria." "Do not act hastil," added Davion. "Re- member that he is to me as Benjamin was to Jacob. If, aught sho ld befall the young man, it would bring down y gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. For my s ke, and for Helen's sake, be merciful, and be ju t also." "Be assured that I ill be just," returned the governor, somewhat coldly. "One word more, your excellency; do not forget that I do not yet believe Henri guilt; however much circumstances may seen to critn inate him." "Who do you suspect of plotting against him ? " Captain Lesage," replied the priest,promptly. "And for What'reason ?" "Because he regards him in the light of , dangerous rival." " Such baseness cannot ,exist,"- rejoined de Bienville. "Perhaps you are not aware that Captain Lesage is already known among the Indians as Chef Menteur, or lying chief," added Father Davion. " Considering how much you love the young man, I pardon the insinuations which you are pleased to make against the character of a brave 'nd zealous officer," returned the governor, coldly. "He has zeal, it is true; but I much doubt that it is according to knowledge," replied Fa- her Davion. We shall see ; good night, Father Davion." "Good night, your excellency, and may God grant you the excellent wisdom of a Daniel to detect the hidden wickedness of this matter." Bowing respectfully, the priest left the pres- nce of the governor. Helen was awaiting him n the ante-room, with pale and anxious face. The sorrowful looks of Father Davion did not e to re-assure her. She would have gladly sked many questions, but her tongue refused to perform its office. "You desire to know the worst," said the rest, kindly taking Helen by the hand. "I. vi*l ell you the truth and conceal nothing from you enriis in imminent peril." " With what crime is 'he charged ?" asked Hel n, with a strong effort. " The crime of selling his country to the In- ians," said Davion. "It is a base slander !" exclaimed Helen. Henri Deleroix is not guilty of such wicked- i ess. He is too good, too generous, too noble 1! "So I believe, my daughter; and I love to hear you speak, his praise when other tongzes revile him." Father Davion then explained the nature of the evidence which was to convict the young man of so heinous a crime. During the recital4 the cheeks of Helen glowed with indignation. " The plat is deep ,and dangerous, and artfully I page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] THR WHITE ROVEB: ontrived," said Xelenwhen the priest had con- claimed Helen, "for it must not be. The gover- 4uded. "But it doesnotshalke my faith in the in- nor is not cruel. I will seek him-I will beg ,gy 9f Henri, or the protecting providence of him uponbended knee to spare Henri." a just God. The mask must fall eventually from "I would not dampen the ardor of your *!fac ofLesage, and he will be seen in all the hopes," replied Davion, sadly; "but, you are despicable deformity of his character." - aware, that-de Beinville is a man of firmness and no uit';but ,it will be so, my child; but we resolution." must not forget that it possibly may not be until Bestowing his blessing .upon Helen, Father 9ft tahe1ssacrifice is consummated, and Henri Davion left the governor's mansion and hastened is-" toward his own lowly dwelling, looking sorrow. " Speak notthe cruelwords, good father!" ex- fully at the prison as be passed. - AccoMP:A.uN by ( turn to the hero of of prison, with heavy ir first emotions upon fin ur naders, we will now re- ur story, whom we left in us upon his hands. His ing himself so unceremo- niously incarcerated ere those of indignation, and surprise. . Utterly ignorant of what crime he was accused, he taxed his imagination in vain for an adequate cause for such treatm nt. That Lesage was the active 'agent of his isfortunes, he did not doubt; but the meads employed was the subject that perplexed him. Guilty of no infractions upon the laws of the colony, he was far from entertaining..even a suspicion of his danger. The thought which annoyed him most deeply was a well-defined fear that he might be dis- graced in the eyes of Helen Lerowe; or that by some means Bering his incarceration, she might be induced to bestow her hand, upon Lesage. This was truly a painful subject of reflection to Henri. Weary of thinking and forming conjectures, before morning he fell into a troubled sleep. It was a late hour when he awoke. The sun was' two hours high, and his beams were streaming brightly into the prison through the grated win- dows. The turnkey entered with water and food; and though he waited a rfoment evidently with the expectation of being questioned, Henri was tooproud to ask anything in relation to his imprisonment, and suffered him to depart with-. out Interchanging a:single word with him. Withlhis foot Henri dashed, thejug of water against the wall, and the coarse bread soon share. ed the same fate. Smiling at his own impatience, he arose and walked up and down his narrow cell, occasionally pausing to note how strangely the handcuffs looked upon hie wrists. While thus employed, the door of his prison grated once more-upon its hinges and a file of men entered, headed by Sergeant Dumont. Obeying the motions of their leader, the armed men placed themselves upon each side of Henri, and he was cornlucted from the prison - to the pres- ence of the governor. The latter was surround:- ed by several of the principal officers of the cot.. ony, and the members of his council, among whom were the Chevalier de Noyan, lieutenant governor; Chevalier de Loubois, the; laren of Cresnay, Chevalier de St. Julian, De St, Ange, De St. Bessan, and de St, Dennis, beside many other distinguished personages; and lastly, Cap- tain Lesage. As the eyes of Henri wandered from one te another, he felt an indefinable foreboding in hje heart. Why were the principal men of Louisiang present ? - What important crisis or emergency had called thera.pogether ? Though somewhat" abashed and confounded for the instant, at finding himself'before such an august body,the White Rover quickly recpvered his self-possessiofi and walked to the prisoner's box proudly erect and selfreliant,, "A princely figuresupn my word" sai4 1) 0 CHAPTER IX. - THE TRIAL. PpAr '5 t page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] .2THE WHIG St Ange to the Chevalier de Noyan, who sat wear him. -$He carries himself like a belted knight," re- Plied the lieutenant governor. "A noble figure !" said St. Julian, in the same tone. - "He bears himself bravely," added the Baron of Cresnay, while a buzz of approbation ran through the court-room; for many of the prin- cipal citizens had heard of the arrest, and been admitted to witness the trial, as his excellency did not wish to conduct the unfortunate affair wholly in private. Henri was a general favorite, and he was anxious that the whole might be conducted in an impartial manner, in order that there should be no murmuring or complaint. "He has not the face of a traitor," resumed de St. Ange. "He certainly has not," replied Chevalier de Bessan ; "but judging from appearances is not always righteous judgment, you know," he add- ed, quickly. h ' couit eras1 now called to -order by the letteinut governor, who made a few appropriate narks something like the following. r .iKnighits, officers; and gentlemen exercising *ithority inthe colony of his majesty, king of prance, by the.'order of his excellency, the gov- ' oiir you have been requested. to give your 6pineons 'upon a case of extraordinary interest, baih ~as it concerns the safety of every in. k"' ltebitant'of.Louisiana. The prisoner at the bar aeused of a Very great crime." ' At the point of de Noyan's speech,$Henri, who u a4istsen ta his feet,-leaned anxiously forward t ei his words ; 4 The, crime of Betraying one's country is Itttitiits parallel inienormity; and it is of this Fhgh nisdemdeanorthat Henri Delcroix, the pris- 6neat the badt is accused: Gentlemen, I adpn sery to add that the proofs which have been Sudetipon his persongand furnished from other reliable sources, scarcely admit of a doubt in re- = i'tohis guilt; but, notwithstanding all this, 1""Ae ddellency has thought t to grant him a 1s trial. The prideyl witnesses will now ; efeahed and all the eviitesagainst the pris- -oihr will be adduced, tog her with any rebut- tiiigtestimouiy whiehhis friends:may be able to 'corward- a Wht oNoyan pronounced in a clear and e idalodie' the naturof" the transaction g~nt him, the White boiver recoiled in dis'. nt BU16ik ad compoheniyo mind grasp. TE ROVER. ed the whole subject at a glance. He saw him- self standing, as it were, upon the brink of a precipice, and many'unfriendly hands outstretch- ed to thrust him headlong into the abyss. He staggered beneath the terrible charge, and for a moment, it was with difficulty that he could stand without support. Crushed and overwhelm- ed, he sank back into his seat the moment de Noyan had ceased speaking. " The young fellow is by no means without feeling," whispered St. Julian to de Bessan. The latter made no reply, and Captain.Lesage was called totestify. He deposed and said that it was with extreme reluctance that he arose to criminate the prisoner at the bar, he being a young man whom he had hitherto esteemed; but he would come to the point at once, and not deter the court longer than was absolutely neces- sary. Recently, 'le averred, it had pleased his excellency, on account of the hostile bearing of the various Indian tribes, to enjoin him to un- common vigilance in the discharge of his-official duties. These - instructions, as in duty bound, he had endeavored. to obey to the letter, and in the discharge of his duty, it had been his for- tune to discoverlthe existence of the most alarm- ing and dangerous conspiracy that had ever threatened and agitated that unhappy colony. The first hints that he received of this matter were from his servant, who is a Banbara negro- Induced by love for his master, and proinises of liberal reward,'he revealed the startling news that all the Africans in the colony had conspired with the Indians for -the 'total destruction of their masters, and'all the French settlements in Louisiana. He-drew from him, moreover, that the whole plot was devised and perpetrated by a young Frenchman. At a given time ali The Indian na- tions were to rise simultaneously,'and, assisted by the slaves, slay the whole population india- critninately, without regard to age, sex, or condition. Exclamations of horror and indignation were heard in all parts of the room, at this portion of the captain's, testimony. With flushed cheek' and throbbing brow, Henri sat gazing steadily at Lesage. -It was only by a strong mental effort' that he could curb his resentment and keep it within bounds. His impulsive nature prompited hiin to -leap from the prisoner's box and str~dgle' the captain: on the' spot; but li better judgment told him the folly 'of sicha ~ thought.' .I 4 The captain went on with much apparent feel- ing, and related the manner in which he had- discovered that the prisoner at the bar was the leader of the conspiracy.' While hunting in the woods, near Lake Pontchartrain, he had over- heard a conversation between the prisoner and: one Pierre Moran, known among the Indians by the name of the Hunter. Greatly to deponent's horror, he had heard the whole plan of the con- spiracy discussed in the most cool and business-, like manner. At this stage of the captain's evidence, he en- tered into many minute and tedious details with which we shall not trouble the reader ; but suffice it that his testimony was delivered with the most consummate art, and made a deep impression. At some portions, it was extremely difficult for de Noyan to maintain order, so much were the citizens excited against the accused. The birch bark found upon his person at the, time of his arrest was then produced, and the diagrams and characters briefly and ingeniously explained., Henri acknowledged his signature at the bottom. Seven or eight of the Banbaras were then brought forward by the captain, and rendered their evidence with surprising readiness and unanimity. The guilt of Henri seemed indeed to have been fairly proved. No rebutting testimony was offered, and the excitement among the citizens was every moment growing more intense. The governor, in a stern voice, then asked the prisoner what he had to say in extenuation of his guilt. With eyes flashing with scorn and indignation, Henri arose to his feet. He folded his arms. upon his breast, and for a moment looked boldly around those present. His gaze at length rested upon Lesage, and his nether lip quivered with unutterable contempt.. Drawing up his com- manding figure until he was the most conspicu- ous object in the room, while every muscle seemed to work with emotion, and with a sense of the indignity which 'had been offered, and the wrong heaped upon him, he slowly stretched forth his arms, and pointing his finger at Lesage, said, in a calm, impressive, yet terrible voice: "I pronounce that man a perjured villain. The aggravated charges which he has made against.me, I throw back into his teeth with a feeling of scorn too great to utter." Then turn- ing to the governor, he added, in a firm, yet re- spectful voice: " Your excellency, I protest that I am not guilty, though circumstances in ie possession of a villain have conspibed'tooeidit me. I see'but too plainly my position. Ik no* what awaits me. I will not consume- 'tim by reiterating my innocence ; for I perceive thatnfy ruin is accomplished, that my death' is needfil to one present-whose name I will not conde- scend to speak. It is true that there isa coi- spiracy on foot, 'but I am not, neverwas,An would scorn to be, its leader. It was bit yesto. day that I discovered its existence, 'thoughI have been free to mix with all the Indian'tribes from first to last. In this important movement I was not admitted-to their confidence. * It has been said in evidence against me that have power over the minds of the red men'; it is true. Were I at large and so disposed, I could sweep away all the French settlements in a day; and at night there would not be a single dwelling stand- ing, and every head would be scalped. But, thank Heaven I I love my countrymen too well to wish them such a fate ; and it gives me plead- ure, while 1 stand in this august presence,' know that I have saved them more' than one from bloody reprisals. Governor de Bienville, permit me to advise you to station an effieiert- body of men at Natchez, and' to, increase 'the number of soldiers and the means of defence at Mobile, Pensacola,' and .Dauphine Island;'anal in return I ask but one favor (if the perjurer must have a victim), that r may die a soldier's death. I have done." The White Rover bowed and sat down. "What a proud and fearless spirit we are about to extinguish," said the Baron of Cresnag to St. Ange, in a low voice, as Henri resumed his seat. " I will tell-you who he reminds me of," rO- plied St. Ange. "He makes me think of' Ibee ville, de Bienville's brother." The word Iberville reached the ears f the governor, and he turned quickly towards . Ange. The latter looked towards the White Rover, and de Bienville seemed6lost in reflectio. " Let the prisoner be removed from the barfor a short time," said the governor. "Good'cit zeus, whose opinions are not required in 'the case, will withdraw." Henri, closely guarded, was taken to another part of the edifice, and very soon the hall of judgment was vacated by all save the governor and his officials. Their discussions were short. The prisoner was placed again at the bar. The'ecrowd came -THE WHITE ,ROVER. 4t - page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] THE WlEITE ROVER. ear the sentence. When order rivers and wide lakes, it is fitting that I should s ,the governor ordered Henri to fulfil my destiny even as strangely as it began." 77,jJo,obeyed without any visible emotion, De Bienville gazed earnestly at Henri, and a kedik.the -man who held the keys of life listened to his words with breathes attention. !t ,a esimlyisn the.face, De Noyan (nephew to the governor) fixed his pgcileroi," said :his excellence, in a eyes upon the young man with'the same eager 99 giad orrowful voice, "a painful duty is sympathy, while the Baron, of Cresnay, de"St. SIbut, I may not shrink from it, however' Ange, de Bessan, do St. Dennis, the Chealier gpp -npy regret that the responsibility did de Loubois, and de St. Julien, shared eagerly in 10 ulpgn another man. The crime of the interest manifested by the governor and i py ave beqn convicted is one held in lieutenant-governor ; and there was evidently a 49stion byallnations and-races of men, and reaction in favor of the condemned. M4 J estheinous and unnatural. Were there Henri went on in a distinct and unshaken ryoon for donuht in regard to your guilt. you voice: ; ull assuredly have the benefit of that doubt; " The French are my people, but the red map- A itiginot so. All these honorable.gentlemen, is my friend. His lodge has ever been open to glho constitute the bulwarks of Louisiana's safety, me ; and the White Rover never sought hospi- waNea with methat there is but one course to tality in vain when he presented himself at the -gurepe-that indicated, by the, stern finger of Indian's door, cold, wet, thirsty, or hungry; but stice. I can only mitigate the severity of your notwithstanding all this, it was never in my em' ; yourrequest is accorded; though thought to wrong my own people. AsI have 'trailtos you shall die the death of a soldier. previously stated, it has been my fortune to save yth gy dviceof my council, two days are al- more than one from Indian cruelty. Let me as- pwed e you. to prepare for the solemn change sure you that the Indian tribes will dearly avenge .qat rits'you. May you improve this brief my death, and it will be well for you to guard %Jc; to such advantage that your deadly sin ever your wives and little ones after the sun of snay be forgotten in that world of which you Friday next has gone down in the west. There i ,lp ie an inhabitant. On Friday next, are two ties that death will never sever," contin- $t5we9 the hours of nine and ten, A. M., you ued Henri, with emotion. ,wil expiate your crime, and,", added the gov- " A gray-headed old man, a foster father, will Aegop,inthrobbing tones, " may the Searcher of weep for me. And there is one other who will human hearts have mercy upon you." drop a tear to the memory of the White Rover 1 1hapls you," said Henri, with a bitter smile, -a foster sister-a fair and loving being, whose Mor ,tirlenity, which you have shown me in destiny I fervently pray may never be linked aodqf sjifering the extreme penalty of the with that of the lying chief." And Henri turned 4j. Te whole has ended as I expected when towards Lesage with an expression of withering Isaw Captain Lesage arise to testify against contempt. met- ~ t- well. Men die but once; and my " My dear boy ! my dear boy !" cried a broken $t i in eopi g with mya previous history. and tremulous voice, and Father Davion was 'htrown upon-the world withontnam, without seen forcing his way through the crowd towards e ; without parentage, born in;the wilds of a the bar. De Noyan spoke in a low voice to the pw utyforsaken by him who should have governor, and then motioned to the proper offi' * i pitt d.me; fostered by a stranger cers to remand the condemned, to prison. He $= fep ejprity, grown to manhood still was instaitly taken from the bar, followed by t$p, ne ?ai a less, the companion of the red Father Davion, who invoked blessings upon his n-fthe ild-forest, a thought- head, and frantically asserted his entire inno- %_1 ap and er up and down these broad cence. "4 " 4 c~ ~i' r4 _. 44 CHAPTER IX. THE lSCAPIn, Tr was the hour of midnight. The sure her- aIds of a storm were in the skies: Dark masses of clouds were seen, at first low on the horizon's verge, and then rapidly floating towards the zenith, The low mutterings of distant thunder broke in upon the silence of the night, and fitful flashes of lightning.were seen far away in the west and north. Pierre Moran was abroad at that gloomy hour. He was moving swiftly towards Pontchartrain from the southern margin of Lake Borgne. With his trusty and inseparable companion, his dou- -ble-barrelled rifle, grasped firmly in his right hand, he threaded his way skilfully through the, forest. When near the borders of the lake he paused and.listened with a breathless intensity known only to the practised woodsman. Very soon he ,heard the shrill notes of a raven, and going for- ward in the direction of the sound, in a few mo- ments stood beside the tall figure of Red-Shoe, the Chickasaw chieftain. As Pierre joined him, a flash of lightning lit up the expanse, and threw a vivid glare upon the face of the red maw; it wat calm, proud, and naughty as ever in its-expression. "You imitate the notes of the raven well," said Pierre. :I. tok my lessons from nature," replied Red- Shoe, with a smile. "How do you like the night ? Is it not favor able to our undertaking ?" asked the hunter. " When the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the heavens, and his fire is seen in the clouds, men seek shelter in their lodges and cabins, and warriors relax their vigilance. The night is good," replied Onalaska. Without farther remark, Pierre Moran and Red-Shoe moved towards New Orleans. After a short and rapid walk, they emerged silently from the forest and stood within the borders of the town.- Both now halted and prepared them- selves for the hazardous enterprise upon which they had voluntarily entered. They examined their rifles, tightened their belts, and carefully arranged their side arms. " You shall lead the way, and I will follow,' said Pierre Moran, who had much confidence in the skill of the chieftain. - " It is well, since my white brother requests it," answered Red-Shoe. " shall go forward very still, as though I was going to surprise a party .of my enemies while they were asleep. The great hunter will follow me very close and make no noise. When we are near the:stone house where the White Rover is kept, thenmust we look out for the long-knives whe tthe fire burns up bright in the skies." " And if.we find the sentinels watchful and * page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] II THE WHITE ROVER. true to their duty, what then shall we do ?" asked Pierre Moran. The chieftain smiled grimly, as he replied - "Do as they would if they went to surprise an Indian village, creep softly--leap upon them as thepanther leaps upon its prey-let the knife do its work and reach a vital spot. I would do that, white hunter." "They are my countrymen," said the hunter, with a sigh. " I would fain spare them, if pos- sible. Let nothing but the most urgent necessity induce us to use violence. Onalaska, you are a brave man, and can appreciate the feeling that impels me to spare a fellow-countryman." "I can," replied Red-Shoe, " and I will respect your wish. But if the safety of the White Rover required it, I would slay the great chief himself. Ay, the knife should find its way to his heart as easily as'-it passes into its sheath." "Is my white friend ready ?" he asked, after a pause. "He is ready ; lead on, chieftain, and Pierre Moran will follow if it be to death. " Good," said Red-Shoe, and the next instant he was moving towards the settlement like a phantom of darkness. Following the general' direction of what is no'w the Bayou road, they gradually approached St.-Ann street, which was to be the scene of their operations. With cautious and noiseless footsteps they passed many cabins whose inmates were sleep- ing. Once, soon after entering thetown, a dog came fortify and barked furiously, but fortunately the Thunder, which now reverberated through the skies, either stifled his vociferation, or the ele- mentary disturbance was referred to as the cause of his outcries, if they were heard by the towns- people. Pausing until he had wearied himself withthy. efforts to'attract attention, the chief and ° oranglided on toward the prison. The dark- .ess was now intense, relieved only by occasional gleams s2f lightning.- 1;dShoe paused when they reached St. Ann street. They stodd hear the structure contain- ingtthe object of their solicitude. The building used a prison at that period did not much re- Asemble those bold and frowning edifices which are how' to be seen fronting Orleans and St. Ann treet. It was a low, stone building, containing but 4w'compartments. The cells for criminals the basement, and those for -debtors joytgether with a small suite of rooms for e turkey. The edifice was surrounded by a x l ibont five feet high, :of stakes or piles, driven.into the earth, the projecting ends sharp- ened to a point to prevent it from being scaled' Outside of this yard or court, since the arrest of Henri, two sentinels had been placed, who were relieved from duty once in three hours. This additional precaution seemed to be war- ranted on account of the graveness of the offence, and the peculiar circumstances of the case ; for it was verily believed that the escape of the prisoner would be followed by the most serious consequences, possessing, as he evidently did, such unbounded influence over the Indians. Like others imprisoned for capital offences, he hadibeen placed in one of the basement cells, in that portion of the prison fronting upon Orleans street. The plan which Red-Shoe and Pierre Moran intended to'pursue, was to surprise the sentinels pon their post, secure them, awe them into si- lence, enter the prison, awaken the 'turnkey from his slumbers, corrupt him to lead the way to the prisoner's cell, free him from his irons, and then' depart as quickly as possible, seeking safety in the boundless forests of the Mississippi Valley. The moment of action had now come-a mo- ment requiring all the habitual cunning, coolness and courage of the Indian and backwoodsman. They stood within a few yards of- the prison; but no sounds were heard indicating that the sentinels were on duty. They waited patiently until the next flash of lightning 'should reveal the outlines of the prison and the surrounding palisade. The rain poured down intorrents. A heavy burst of thunder made the ground shake beneath them. The terrible, explosion was in- stantly followed by a red glare of electric flame, revealing every object neir them with fearful distinctness, and..in that lurid and momentary gleam, a portion of the person of a sentinel was seen'^standing, statue-like, in the sentry box. Awed by the din of the warring elements, he had ceased to walk his' rounds; and his musket was resting against the wall beside. Passing to the other side of the prison, the second sentinel was found in the same condition,' though apparently somewhat more comatose, for it was the'last part of the watch. "Now," said Pierre Moran to Red-Shoe, in a whisper, "you secure one, and I will the other, and do'not shed blood if you can help it." "It is good,' replied the chief, ." and we will . see who shall effect his object with the utmost silence and despatch." With these words Red-Shoe glided baek td ( THE WHIT that side of the building looking towards Orleans street, where the first sentinel was posted, while Moran was left to deal with the other who did duty on St. Ann street., The hunter divested himself of his hunting frock, and wrapping it about the breech of his rifle (which he had hitherto kept dry beneath it), laid both carefully upon the ground in the most sheltered spot he could conveniently find. His preparations were made with all requisite cau- tion, and when the deafening thunder warned him that the lightning was about to illumine the heavens, he remained motionless until the bright and blinding glare no longer rendered surround- ing objects visible. Pierre Moran with a few quick and noiseless steps reached the palisade, and stood within a few paces of the sentry box, which he did not wish to approach directly in front, but in a lateral direction, a proceeding which would greatly lessen the chances of dis- covery. With -stealthy step he moved on. His bold heart beat with unwonted quickness when he found himself standing but a single pace from the narrow building containing the unconscious soldier. . With a rapid and decided movement he threw himself forward, and quick as thought his powerfulhhand lay upon the sentinel's shoul- der. At the very instant of doing so, a tremen- dous peal of thunder broke with violence over their heads, and almost simultaneously with the deafening explosion, a sheet of flame blazed athwart the heavens,.and revealed to the aston- ished sentinel the stern and threatening face of Pierre Moran, and the blade of the suspended weapon. He made a convulsive effort to wrench the bayonet from h4 musket, but the tightening. grasp and deep tones of the hunter. struck terror to his already trembling heart and fear-palsied arm. "1Yield-be silent, and you are safe-resist, and you die !" exclaimed Moran.- Full of consternation, and astounded by the sudden and unexpected onset, the soldier was unable to speak, gud stood quaking in the ner- vous grasp of the hunter. "Do you hear and comprehend, man !" added the litter, shaking him, in order to restore in some measure his scattered senses. " Gather up your faculties and do as I bid you, 'and no personal violence shall be offered you." By this time the sentinel began to understand his situation and what was.required of him, and suffered hishands to be bound without a mur EB ROVER.47 mur. Pierre then emptied the priming from his musket, took off the bayonet, thrust it into his belt, and taking his prisoner by the shoulder, led him passively into Orleans,street. Pierre was not suffered to remain long in ignorance of the success of his comrade. He descried the dim outlines of two human figures, which proved to be Red-Shoe and the other sentinel,. who had been secured in the same manner, and .at the same time. " I have not forgotten your wish," said Ona- laska ; "no blood has been shed." " I feel that it is best thus," replied Pierre, and then added immediately, turning to the two pris- oners, "our object is to release Henri Del- croix, now under sentence of death. Do as we shall direct you, and you need be under no ap- prehensions, and shall suffer no bodily harm. To resist, you perceive, would be madness, and would result in no good, to you whatever. Now lead the way to the prisoner." The firm though suppressed tones of Moran, the presence of the tall Indian, whose grim and threatening visage was often revealed by con- stantly recurring flashes of lightning, all had their due effect upon the soldiers. Without a word they moved sullenly toward the prison. They paused at the gate of the prison yard. "How shall this gate be opened ?" asked Mo- ran, in a whisper, of the soldiers. There was no reply. Red-Shoe laid his hand suddenly upon his tomahawk, and drew it fromipbelt. The movement did not escape the antonA f the prisoners. An expression of fear passed over their faces, and with a shudder they drew nearer to the hunter. "Produce the key if you have it," added the latter, hurriedly. " There is no time to -lose. Do not hesitate, as you value your lives. By a singular piece of good fortune,, the key to the' gate was really in possession of one of the sentinels. In a moment it was in the:lock; and they passed into the court. The party now stood on the stone steps of the prison. " Ring the turnkey's bell furiously," added Pierre, to one of the soldiers'; " when he asks who rings, and what is wanted, tell him:your name, and thatiyou come with another prisoner by order of the governor. Your safety depends upon the manner in which you perform this service. If you use any artifice, if your voice shakes or betrays any anxiety, if you speak not promptly, I will not answer for the episegen- ces." And Moran looked signifiesudly ~t Zed- Shoe. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 TRE WHITE ROVER. The soldier to whom the hunter had addressed himself;,'put forth his hand and- rang the turn- keyebelt violently, nor discontinued his efforts until-his voice was heard demanding the mean- Ing of such peremptory summons. i fIt is I, Corporal Rion. The governor has made an important arrest, and the prisoner is now at the door. Hurry yourself, my good fel- low, for itrains as it never rained before, and I am wet to the skinI" "xeellent !" whispered the hunter. "You have done yourself credit. You shall lose noth- ing by it." Yefy soon the steps of the turnkey were heard, approaching. The features of Red-Shoe and, Pierre Moran lighted up with satisfaction. The kaygrated'in the lock and the door swung open. " AStep in quick," said Pierre, and he pushed the :soldiers forward over the threshold, and speedily followed them. "Here are two prisoners," said the turnkey. ""es," said Moran, promptly, "and you to the number, makes three." As the hunter uttered these words, he laid his hand upon the jailor's arm, and Red-Shoe closed the door. "You're quite a joker," said the turnkey, withI .a laugh. " There is no joke about it, my fine fellow,"1 replied- Pierre. "Look at these men a little closer , You perceive that they are soldiers- the very ones posted at your doors as sentinels. To be brief, we have come to set Henri Delcroix ati liberty. Lead the way to his cell without a manient's delay."t The jailorrecoiled in unspeakable amazement. He looked first at one, and then at another, and f his face grew ashy pale as his eyes rested upon the Indian ehief, who, standing erectland haugh- t ty, impatiently motioned him onward with his band. ' Qentlemen," said the trembling functionary, t in a faltering voice, "I should be pleased to see y your authority." Pierre Moran.touched the handle of his knife, n and the proud chieftain made a significant mo- s tion towards his hatchet. i RhIjaildir hesitated no longer. Overwhelmed b with fears in regard to his own safety, he led a thaeway towards the cell. of the condemned as ti *.t g'1hisIhnbs could carry him. Urging the p Csl i m$ng befoe them, Onalaska and the ,frijfolloWed. There was a little indecision l' b agallovomeents~of the keeperwhen he reached m thi40tfIhe prisoner's cell, but a fierce ges- ,ture, and a threatening scowl from the chieftain quickened his motions and banished his irreso- lution. He applied the key and threw open the door with as much alacrity as his trepidation would permit. Henri was awakened from his uneasy slumbers by the creaking of the hinges and the sound of footsteps. He started from his recum- bent position, and cast his eyes with an inquir- ing expression toward the door. His vision rested upon Onalaska and Pierre Moran, and- a gleam of gladness and surprise passed over his pale visage. " What do I see ?" he exclaimed, arising to his feet, and stretching forth his manacled hands. " The White Rover sees his red brother and another friend," replied Red-Shoe, calmly. " And how and why have you come ?" contin- ued Henri, with increasing wonder. " We-have come," said Moran, "to set you at liberty. Jailer, knock off those disgraceful irons. They were never forged for the wrists of a man of honor." " I understand all," returned Henri, glancing at the two soldiers, bound and powerless. " You have risked your lives to save mine: I thank you from the profoundest depths of my heart; but I have committed no crime worthy of death; and I cannot fly like a criminal to save my life." "Nay, Henri Delcroix, you must not fall a victim to so nice .a sense of honor," replied the hunter, earnestly. " We have considered all. We know that there is hut one chance for you to vindicate your innocence, and re-establish your good name, and that one chance is in light." " I am resolved not to fly from my fate," re- urned Henri, firmly. " Would you die, young man, with such a burden of guilt upon your shoulders. Who will ake the trouble to establish your innocence after you have suffered the doom of a felon? Who will believe you innocent when the law has pro- nounced you guilty, and the word of justice has ealed the decision with blood. I ask and wait n vain for a response ; none is given, nor can e. The world will speak and think of you as traitor. But if 'you escape, and thus gain ime, your innocence can be fully and completely roved." "Pierre Moran, you argue well, perhaps just- y; you shake my resolution," rejoined Henri nuch wrought upon. "And there is yet another object thatrequires t your .thoughts-Helen Lerowe. Will she not weep when you are no more ? Will she not cease to be happy when you cease to live ?". "Mon Dieu! you move me 1" said Henri, with a sigh. " And think of the frantic grief of FatherDa- vion,' added Pierre. " And of the sorrow of the Soft-Voice," said Red-Shoe. Henri held forth his hands, and the jailor knocked off the irons. " You have conquered," he said, in a voice rendered unsteady by emotion. "Do with me as you will." "'Good," said Onalaska. " The friend of the red man shall be saved. The White Rover shall be seen again in the forest, and his rifle shall be heard upon its rivers and lakes." The chief took the lamp from the hand of the turnkey and passed out, together with Henri and Moran. The two soldiers and the jailor were left in the cell. Pierre turned the key upon them, and the three were prisoners. With rapid steps they hurried from the prison, locking the door after them, and the gate of the court precisely as they had found them. The violence of the storm had passed. The rain was still falling, but less plentifully. The thunder was heard with fainter veheinence, muttering afar off in the distance ; the lightning flashed at more lengthened intervals, and with dimin- ished brightness. Red-Shoe and Pierre Moran caught their rifles from the ground, and in a few moments they and the White Royer were lost in the depths of the forest, where they could safely laugh at the false claims of justice, and the weakness of prison bars. 1 THE WHITE ROVER. aI page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] CHAPTER X. A DISSEMBLER'S AVOWAL OF LOVE. THn morning succeeding the escape of Henri dawned clear and bright. The only traces of the -late storm were found in the wet gross and pools of water standing by the wayside. Since the condemnation of her lover, the-heart of Helen Lerowe had known no respite from sorrow; but being firm in the opinion that he was innocent, and that by some means he would be saved, she had struggled hard to temper down the violence of her grief to a calm and unconcerned demeanor; but this she found it hard to do, and so she let the storm of her first real grief pass in the solitude and silence of her own chamber. Feeling at length that the sym- pathy of one true heart would indeed be pre- cious, she resolved to visit Adelaide Ridelle, aid seek a momentary relief in the companion- ship of a nature so purely feminine and so gentle.. Hastily putting'on her bonnet and shawl, she silently left the mansion of her guardian and took the way to St. Charles street. Her chagrin cannot well be described, when after walking a few yards she was joined by Captain Lesage. Helen's aversionr'for the man had-increased until it had grown to an absolute horror of his pres- one. Scarcely deigning to notice him she hur- rded forward, of=are abroad early, Mademoiselle Le- rowe," he said, with much suavity. "But you are doubtless desirous of breathing the air puri- fled by the shower of last night." " You are right, captain, and I desire to breathe it alone," replied Helen, with dignity. Lesage bit his lips, and was rather confused by this ho thrust. "Nay, fair aiden, such a thought were sel- fish. The air of heaven is designed for all to respire, and to me it is rendered purer and sweeter by the presence of Helen Lerowe." " Captain Lesage, such words from some men would please me, but when spoken by others they offend," returned Helen. " You are hard with me, Mademoiselle Le- rowe ; and I can perhaps conjecture why it is so," rejoined Lesage. " If in the discharge of my duty, I have been forced to witness against one whom I am informed you knew and es- teemed im 'childhood, I am rather to be pitied than condemned. I do assure you, mademoi- selle, that I have suffered not a little on account of this misguided young man." Here the captain paused and evinced much emotion. , " Gladly would I have saved him, and I have spent an'hour with the governor in earnest en- treaty that his life might be spared, but alas i his excellency is inexorable. He admired 'my THE WHITE ROVER. 51 generosity, but grew angry at my pertinacity. You can never know the agony I suffered when I stood up to testify against Delcroix. And why did I suffer? Because I knew that he was: esteemed by Helen Lerowe. Believe me, .if there is aught I can do to mitigate the fate of this young man it shall be gladly done. All the return that I ask is, that I may be placed in the list of your friends-thought of with kindness, and ultimately with pleasure. Am I overween- ing, mademoiselle? Do I ask too much ? Do I overstep the bounds of decorum ?" As Lesage went on, his voice grew soft, sub-' dued, and humbly respectful. "Is it possible that I have judged this man wrongfully ?" thought Helen. .- "1Mademoiselle Lerowe," resumed the captain, "I beg of you when this. unhappy tragedy has been enacted to the end, and the grave has closed over that misguided youth, whose thoughtless- ness has well-nigh baptized this colony in blood, to think less harshly of one who would willingly have spared the offender at the 'risk of every- thing, in order to save you a single tear, or a sigh of sorrow. Were it not for this unhappy affair, I would even now venture to report the story . of my unrequited love. But I may not tell the tale. My motives would be doubted, my actions misconstrued, and my in- tegrity called in question. But were Henri Del- eroix at large, and unsuspected oferime, I would upon bended knee tell you such a story of un- changing, fathomless love as living woman never heard. The history of my passion must remain untold. I can only think -of your supernal beauty, and dream of your angelic goodness; all I may ask is your pity, a small boon for Helen Lerowe to accord to a hopeless man." With low and solemn earnestness of tone, the consummate dissembler breathed 'forth these honeyed words. ,«Captain Lesage," replied Helen, seriously, " your presence is not agreeable to me. I know not well why it is, but your words are to me like the hissing of a serpent. My soul turns instinctively from you with loathing and fear. Your looks are sorrowful, and your speech sub- dued and grief-like, but you fail to touch my heart. It seems to me (God knows whom I wrong and whom I do not) that when the sacrifice of my foster brother shall have been consummated, the Judge of all human hearts will require his blood-at your hands. Go, Captain Lesage, and when you have made your peace with Heaven, will be the proper time to speak of earthly mat- ters. My spirit is too sorrowful now to brook- patiently the presence of the man who- has been an active agent in the conviction of my foster-- brother.. I wish you a good morning." " To your sorrow, then," replied Lesage, bow- ing deferentially, " will I attribute your unkind- ness to one who would sell his best blood to serve you, and think the sacrifice a pleasure. Heaven sustain and keep you, mademoiselle." With another bow, humbly respectful,' sad apparently, and grieved, the captain-left Helen to pursue her way. to the St. Charles. " Be of good courage," said Madame Ridelle, as our heroine entered the house. " I feel within me a good assurance that an all-wise Providence .will yet intetpose to prevent this sacrifice. " Weep not, faint not, despair not, cease not to trust in Him who dispenses life and death, pun- ishes the guilty and rewards the righteous." " I will struggle hard to do so," replied Helen, weeping. "Do not reproach me, nor deem it unmaidenly to shed a few tears for the 'fate of my foster-brother-one so good, so loyal, and yet so basely maligned." "My poor child," said a gentle ,voice, which proved to be that of Madame Mablois, to whom the reader's attention has before' been called. "Let the noble consciousness that Henri Del- croix is innocent, impart fortitude to your soul, and uphold your sinking spirit." Helen turned towards the speaker with an expression of the liveliest satisfaction. " Are you here, good mother I" she exclaimed, embracing her warmly. "I am indeed glad to see you in this hour of sorrow. Appropriately have the red men of the forest named you Soft- Voice. When you speak so gently and hope- fully of Henri, your tones are indeed musical and soft." "There are," said Mablois, in a suppressed yet earnest voice, " active agents at work for the lib' eration of Henri, and they will succeed at what- ever hazard. Even now," she added, propfieti., tally, " he may be at liberty." "Speak on, 'Madame Mablois. Your words fall like healing dews .upon my heart !".cried Helen. And then she added in-a more serious, tone, " Yet it is not well to foster false hopes- it would but entail more, bitter woe at last." "Pierre Moran," said Adelaide, appeariug..at that moment, "knows much ; he assures. mej of the wickedness of Lesage." itI page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] THE WHITE ROVER- "And Piere Moran speaks the truth," added Mabloiia "He told me upon the night on which the wrraflt *as issued for his arrest," continued Adelaide, with a blush, "that the captain had laid more than one plan for th destruction of Deicroix." "And the troth of the case is that Pierre is too deeply-in the captain's confidence to be safe," added Madame Ridelle. - " It was on this ac- countfhat Lesage thought it- best to have him imprisoned so that he could not testify at the trial of Henri." "I perceive that you do not yet know all," saidMadame Mablois. " The captain has em- plpyed an agent to rid himself of Pierre Moran' The cheeks of Adelaide grew pale. But fear not," continued Mablois, "he has failedin this, and the very agency he has em- ployed threatens to prove fatal to himself ulti- "It is thus that our Heavenly Fatherpunishes wcked I" exclaimed Madame Ridelle, pious- The evil they propose for others not un- f tly falls upon their own heads." Mfrsomie fnyther couversation of a -similar nature, Hele returned home more hopeful, and osiger in the faith that something would trans- pire to avert the doom of Henri. s ihe -passed toward her chamber, she ob- served that de Bienville, her guardian, was in aclo- and alone. She resolved to speak with him upon the subject uppermost in her1 i1 ot%*e: ayingsllsAeher walking appsare, l a p p ar l, she returned and entered the !fhef ai-rdr was pacing to and fro, absorbed din t." Haused anid senried somewhat &l eyed when his fair wrd ma'de her 'p- pearance. He fixed his'penetrating eyes full Wtibier:but, to 'employ the words of another, "lo e n sorik6Wthan in auger." -- fgetnk you look pito to-day, Helen," he mo; 1o 641. . "And is there not sttleient cause ?" replied s, With averted gaze. "What mdean you ?" asked d o inville, - tn6t my foter-brother doomed to death?" return hi ivd. "%f.f b 'not by'the endearing name of wfbher,'rejoinedade Iienville, somewhat sternly. He hs forfeited all elei to yeair bfmitfy." " My dear guardian! my good, kind friend, do not say -so !" exclainied Helen, earnestly.- " He is not guilty'of the crime for which he hat been unjustly condemned." "Do you accuse me of injustice, Helen ?" said the governor, sadly. "Pardon me, my best and most generous friend and benefactor; but if your conscience has not already told you that you have acted with too much precipitancy, far be it from the child of your bounty to be your accuser," an- swered Helen. " You take an ingenious way to accuse, Helen," rejoined de Bienville, mildly. "I have no mal- ice against that young man. I have done-with extreme reluctance-what nave thought my duty. I grant that he appears truly noble and. innocent; but facts are fearfully against him., I would that there had been some pretext for sparing him, for he impressed us all in his favor.. But the plot was truly a horrible one." "It fills my heart with pleasure to hear you speak thus in favor of the unhappy Henri. Lis- ten still further to the dictates of your better judgment, and save him. Believe me," continued Helen, with increasing earnestness, "he is inno- cent of the crime charged upon hir. Lesage has perjured himself. He has before attempted, the life of Henri; but fortunately he failed." " Can you prove what you affirm ?" asked the- governor, eagerly. "I could, if Pierre Moran could be found,"" answered Helen, quickly. "Pierre Moran," said de Bienville, thought- tully. " I know him; a dark, sinister-looking man, but possessed of a fearless heart, and I be- lieve him honorable. I mu st'sift this matter to the bottom. But it is dif eult to believe, fort a morient, that a man so smoothly. spoken, and apparently so candid and forgiving withal, can be guilty of what yout accuse him. If it should prove so, woe be to him." De Bienville spoke the last few words in that firm and deep toned voice which characterized. him in nioinehts of excitement, and indicated a fixed and unchanging purpose.. Helen sank upon her knees, held the govern- or's hands in her white and tumbling inger, and shed gaateful tears upon there. "What is this young man to you?" asked d6+ Bienrilie, sorrowfully. "If you have fathomed my secret, be still ih- erorts, 2ny bertefactor," replied lielet. " I 4 me not unmaidenly. Deal not too sternly with your poor girl." " God forbid, Helen, that I should deal sternly with you," returned de Bienville, with emotion. "It is not in my heart. I could'not be stern with you if I would. Cease to weep, child ; your tears tove me." " Then will I continue to weep !" cried Helen. "Nay, my girl, arise. I will investigate this matter more deeply ; for I tell you in confidence I wish to save this man. He' interests me in spite of myself. You should have seen him when on trial. How his noble figure dilated with the conscious pride of manly strength to bear the worst ! what 'indomitable energy of spirit flashed in his eyes ; with what heroic for- titude and courage he bore his fate. ,But where is this Pierre Moran? Can epbe found ?" " An order was issued for his arrest, and he fled for safety to the forest." "Ah, yes, I remember about the warrant." "It was a part of the policy of Lesage that he should not testify at the trial of Henri," added Helen. "And why not ?" asked the governor. "For the very good reason, as I have just learned, that Captain I4esage had offered him two hundred pounds to take the life of Henri." "Helen, are you sure that there is no mistake about this " asked de 1ienville, with solemn earnestness. " I feel very sure that I have not been misin- formed.. And this is not all; I heard that he is even now plotting with some of your enemies to have you recalled to France." "My dear Helen, you astonish me beyond ex- pression: I must attend to this. I feel that you are not altogether wrong," rejoined the governor, hurriedly, and considerably excited. Helen kissed the governor's hand, and arose from her knees with her face glowing with new hope. De Bienville gently put back the dark masses of her dishevelled hair, -gazed earnestly and ten- derly into her face, and then bending forward, gravely kissed her fair brow. Helen inclined her head and received the salute Y gracefully. " Go, my child, and by the help of Heaven, I will do my duty by you," he said, in an agitated voice. " I know not why my heart turns to- wards you with an affection so pure, so deep and fatherly, but I know it is thus." While the governor was speaking, a messen- 53 A ger rushed into the apartment with breathless haste, dispensing with all the forms of etiquette. " I come to inform your excellency," he cried, in hot haste, " that Henri Delcroix has escaped. The two sentinels, and the jailer, were found this morning locked into the cell which he had occupied. Captain Lesage is almost frantic with fury, and has despatched men in every direction' to find the prisoner; but everybody that has heard of the escape says it will be of no use, because long before this time he is in the depths of the forest, and surrounded by a thousand' warriors." With a cry of joy Helen sank fainting upon the floor. "I thank you for your promptness in bringing me the important news," said the governor. "I will attend to it." Waving his hand for the messenger to go, do Bienville raised his ward in his arms and placed her in an easy chair, and in a few moments she recovered. "Escaped !" she cried, with a smile of joy. "Escaped ! gone ! safe ! Heaven be praised!" " One thing you have forgotten," said the governor. " His escape and flight proves his guilt." "By no means. It seems to me the only way to establish his innocence for no man can prove his own innocence after his death," re- turned Helen. "A very ingenious argument," answered do Bienville, with a smile. And then he added immediately in a low voice, "Were it not trea- son to my king and country, I would say-on your account-I am not sorry that he has thus escaped." "Ever kind, ever indulgent, ever generous," replied Helen. "You overwhelm me with good. ness, you fill me with admiration." Saying these words our heroine retired to her chamber, with her heart lightened of its burden of sorrow. Providence had indeed interposed= its saving hand to shield the innocent. The light steps of Helen had scarcely ceased to be heard, when the tall and majestic figure of, the princess, La Glorieuse, swept unannouncede into the apartment. Unabashed and self-pos- sessed, she paused before the governor. ".Great chief," she said, calmly anid distinctly, and in good French, "I have come to bibng'thi speaking bark from the White-Rove= " Be seated, daughter of the Sun tMa d Bienville, courteously recovering frm his stir. THE WHITE ROVER. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] THE WHITE- ROVER. prise at the unexpected appearance of the prin- ce. "Be seated, while I talk with the "speak- ing bark." Tie governor unrolled the scroll of bark which La Gorieuse had given him, and read as follows: "GotBaNOR DE'BIENVILLE : "Though doomed to a felon's death, and forced-to fly from my own people for safety, I have not yet learned to be, the enemy of the Fxeaeb. But could I so far forget myself as to haebqra traitor's thoughts, at the expiration of aingleweek I could appear before New Or- leans at the head of three thousand warriors. $ach ia not my purpose, for I would not forego the claims of humanity for the sake of punishing a ite enemym, though an enemy who has well- nigh effected my ruin. "I do not reproach your excellency for the part you havetaken in my disgrace. I can read hu- man nature well enough:to know that you acted conscientiously, and-according to the dictates of your best judgment, and I even read sympathy fov ,mein your earnest eyes. I forgive you freely, and with real sincerity, though deeply regretting that a Iofty and honorable miad should be de- coived by a perjured villain. My conscience, Governor de Bienville, almost accuses me of injustice to the friendly though savage people whom I am among, 'or what I am about to tell young his is a hard and cruel heart indeed who would not sacrifice something to save his countrymen from destruction. ,Allow me to respectfully urge upon you the p opriety, and necessity even, of sending more men to Natchez: That part of the French colo- nysill soon-have need of brave and determined defenders. Let tl slaved be weli watched, for yo'u have much to. fear from them. There is one amougthem called Samlea-a man of much resolution and couriage-who is a leading spirit ing e inurietionary movement. You will per- hapsfMorinoineidea of how much you have'to fear, whien I inform fouthat Red-Shoe, the cele- brated Chickataw chief, is at the head of the hd r: desionstraion ottthe part of the Indian rlbii. Th. object of this alliance and conspi- -}fVj'ef which I am accused as being the prime anor,.is the total extinction of the French colony, aslaalready been represented to you ~by ~esgewho by some means really obtained if6$ation concerning the projected movement. "ButevenLesage has no -ideaof the real dan- "h irmeiades -the:French. Much'of tienhleh he4tasadade oath to, was mqre mat- ter of guess-work with him; and the peril is ten, yea, an hundred times more imminent than he imagines. I am doing all in my power to avert this cloud of destruction hovering over Louisi- ana. Heaven knows how earnestly I hope that my efforts may be crowned with success. "Sorvidal is stationed among the Chickasaws, ostensibly as an agent, but. really as a spy. He had better be recalled. The Indians have fath- omed his purpose, and he is not safe a single hour. I shall advise him to leave when I see him. He can effect nothing by staying among them, for they are too shrewd to admit him to their councils or confidence. If the destruction' of the colony can be averted in no other way, I shall endeavor to produce hostilities between the Chickasaws and Choctaws, and thus turn the tide of battle in that direction. If it be true that you have a secret and even active agent or spy, who is unceasingly hovering with silence and secresy among the various Indian tribes, he will assure you that I have spoken truly, and advised you for the best, as time will prove. "If the tongue of rumor speaks not falsely, there is one in your employ whose mysterious movements, whose fittings from place to place, almost entitle him to the faculty of ubiquity. Seek his counsel, and learn whether H'enri Del- croix is a friend to his people. I send this 'speaking bark' by the hand of one whom you know, the proud daughter of the Sun, who is my friend, and a friend of peace. BeggingPas a favor that you will assure your ward-my foster-sister -that I am in safety, I remain your humble servant. HENRI DELCnOIX." The surprise of de Bienville upon the perusal of this missive was extreme. If he had previously felt any misgivings in regard to the honesty of Lesage, they were now increased, while his in- terest in Henri grew in proportion as his doubts of the captain's honesty increased. " Daughter of the Sun," said de Bienville, turning to the princess, " do the Natchez desire peace, or are they preparing for war ?"' " My people love peace, if it can be had on honorable terms," replied La Glorieuse. " They shall have them," answered, the gov- ernor. " You may tell the Great Sun, that the French chief will do them justice. If they have bean wronged they shall be righted. Since Ihave exercised authority in the colony I have been friendly to the Natchez." "The words of the wise chief shallbe repeated Sto the Great Sun," replied the princess. K I CHAPTER Xli. THE PLOT--THE AnDUCTION. WITH the reader's permission we shall now "Quitetrue Hubert; but h - return to Lesage. After leaving Helen Lerowe, in wooin " said Le ow do you prosper he was joined by a man about thirty-five years of " No better-than ourself, and possi age, well proportioned, and of good address. It well. Why, would yourbelieve it, she scorned was Monsieur Hubert, the king's commissary- me with the air of a princess" rejoined theing a person appointed by his majesty to observe the commissary. p , o the king's conduct of all the colonial officers and report "A spirited girl is Mademoiselle Adelaide,' answered the captain, with a smile; for he was This was not an enviable office, but it ac- secretly rejoiced that his companion in - corded well with the disposition of Hubert, who ness had succeeded no betterpthan himself. ' was a man of no principle, ever plotting and " spirit ed no bet; tt he'sen- desgnngknwin n hghe abitootihngh irited enough, I adit ; belt she's a splen- designing, knowing no higher ambition than the did girl, Lesage. A defeat would mriym gratification of self. He cared not who sank or not a little. The pridemf1eosl orifyme who swam, so long as he floated safely upon the must by some means be hum led. My egood tide. The conversation which passed between captain; let s devise some effectual means for the commissary and Captain Lesage, will give the speedy accomplishment of our mutuansfo the reader a better idea of his true character than es," added the commissary.ual wish= aught we could write by way of description done cmssary. " elcpti, he +exclaimed With a free " h's done!". exclaimed Lelage, rmty "Welleas pain," ho e spexclao wit afree I have plotted too deeply, and risked too much * and easy air, " how speeds your wooing l" already to be baffled tls.M "But indifferently ; and in fact I may as well do you d at last. M. Hubert, what say it speeds not at all," replied Lesage. "yo propose . " heisstl ostnae hn ledg That we abduct both the young ladies,n, rep "She is stsr obstinate then," replied the com- plied the commissd, with energy. missAy mhIhave thought of the same, and itis feasible. "Ay, more wilful than ever. I am convinced' By what agencies shall we effect ourpapst that I can never wgo her by fair and entle H°at agencies s a ny efec ou pise means," answered Lesage, impatiently. ca ously.sad the "Then you must resorts to more sumn cctiaxosy poeeding, m satcherest," eoe umary I have thought of several scenes buthe - more intricate part of the plotting IshalI enrut to you," answered Hubert, with a light laugh. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] THE WHITE ROVER. "'f course we must not be known in the matter ourselves," returned Lesage. ' ertainly not. We must employ i men less serBzpulous," retorted the commissary, with ,a significantlook. "Ihave, you are aware, recently visited the region of the Sabine river. .By nu- merous presents, and as many promises, I have made myself quite popular among the Caman- ehes, a bold and warlike nation. I have thought -bythey night be made useful.in the accom- piishnent of odlobject." HIappy circumstance ! felicitous thought !" exclaimed Lesage, joyfully. " If by any means demoiselless Helen and Adelaide could be conveyed to the country of the Camanches with secrecyand despatch, what would hinder us from following them at our leisure, and enjoying the reward of perseverance. Who would sus- pectus of being concerned in the sudden disap- pearance of the mademoiselles ! I stand high in1the esteem of the governor, and you are in equal repute with the ministry and the king." "I confess," rejoined Hubert, "that I can think of nothi ly p hourly ohei fo tr kEtl ,'f, a j "Captain Lesage !" exclaimed Sergeant Du. mont, hurriedly, " the prisoner has escaped." " Sacre Dieu 1" cried Lesage, turning deadly pale. How did it happen ? What gross care- lessness caused such a catastrophe ?" ;-, " He was liberated by some friends who came from the forest. One of them was an Indian, the other a white man, as I am informed by the jailer, whom I found locked into the prisoner's cell, together with the two sentinels." " Good heavens ! My plans are-" The captain checked-himself. "In the name of won- der, Sergeant Dumont, how came the sentinels in the cell?" '' They .were surprised, captain, during the storm of last night, and bound. The rest you can readily imagine," returned Dumont. "Send parties of men in every direction, and endeavor to recapture the offesider," added Le- sage, recovering himself somewhat. "But he has gone to the forest, captain, most probably, and pursuit will be utterly useless." " There is reason in what he affirms," said the- rng better. The plan indeed see~ps per- commissary. racticable. Moreover I am daily and " There is," replied the captain, "but never- expecting a visit,from a pirty of Camar- theless, make some efforts to retake him, Du- liwhom am driving a close bargain mont." acof land. Iilllo0k to, it that ,thy The sergeant touched his cap and withdrew. i;'etbest of humor by liberal presents "My plans are defeated, Hubert ; ruin stares t 'm knives, hatchets and guns, The me in the face 4" -exclaimed Lesage. "This are some of'his treasures, and HenriDeleroix will not rest until he has estab o high premium for the friendship lished his innocence. The governor will mis- ie. trust me and I shall be cashiered, and ,perhaps this deputation enter th e town worse than that.; for de Bienville is summaryin his proceedings when ,thoroughly aromed." tn t essenger will warn me of their "Fear nothing from him," said the commis-, 'hey will eneamp on the otherside sary. " I have written' to the ministry as' I " promised you, and de Bienville willbe recalled, M cxn be more fortunate. But now or I am no prophet. If it becomes too warm s~i~xe iulty to be considered; By for you here before -that.time, -you.canabsent $b alwv~ entice the. young.girls far yourself for a period until the storm blows over." }o"t to town to render their; abduction " I thank you for these drops of comfort, M. I ertan- If by an ipgenious expedient Hubert. If you can throw around 'me the agis ,Kidsce them to venture to the borders of your protection, ,I can easily carry out our rest might be easily managed." plans in relation to the, Mademoiselles Helen at work, Lesage," retured and Adelaide, or I canrforge the handwritingof Henri Deleroix to perfection. I will forge a coud Imtat hphae4ritisg of Bierre note to Helen.'Lerowe, requesting, her to meet thn I could be, ranged to our her lover in the outskirts of the town, in the, x e-th oaPtaEJ-edge of the.forest. Eierre Myanx, the lover of n 1e agelof ed up aridsaw Adelaide, shall also be spksenof intheante, 9 1 proaceng hu x and the two will g to the placeoi meetag to- eme oow, j der'?"s get a to njoy. chrm aning e e aAet wt ctnf -, : r ,Chosen swains. What mn r can lie-d se4 . Wa L Q( Q11 'h is$", "I renounce the plot nearly the commissary, joyfully, "Th scheme we will arrange at our meantime borrow no trouble ab and Henri Deleroix. Iflatter m influence enough to protect you care to keep you admonished-of governor's feelings ; so make After you have written the note, The king's commissary pau eagerly towards the Levee. " The saints be praised !" he fully; "for there comes -my m deputation of Camanches has an favors us, my dear captain. Th are ours. Write the tender billet hasten to arrange all with my will be with you before night." With these words Lesage and missary parted.' If Helen Lerowe had wishedI the hour of her sorrow, before dently desired to share her- joy 'faithful friends. The sun wasl ens when she walked with light footsteps towards Ridelle's for th The consciousness ,that Henri wi that which made her happy, an whole current of her thoughts an immediate peril being past, she f his innocence would ultimately b As Helen turned into Bourbon ger 'came up from the direction who paused and regarded her a much earnestness. He then pass a folded paper in her hand, sayin "If I am not much mistaken, 1 The stranger walked hastily o glanced at the paper and saw he upon it in the well-known chara With a blush of pleasure she pla document in her bosom and quick When she reached M. Ridelle's, first congratulations; she drew t the place where it had been soc ited,,and rea4 as follows: "DEAnREsT hELEN : "'Before this hour, doubt heard of my escape from priso free, and in the boundless forest again hunt upon the margin o: lakes, and repose on the banks 4 n~r.I can inihale the pure bre aii liffef ethie songs' iftlie THE WHITE 1ROVER.5 perfect !" cried Mfy blood, is no longer chille'deby prison danps e details of the and there are no fetters upon my limbs. leisure. In the " Would you see me, Helen ? Would yousay out de Bienville a gentle word to one doomed to a5 felon's fated yself that Ihave Would you render lighter the burden of wrongs . It shall be my 'that bear me down ? Come, then, to the cypress the state of the tree where we met once. some month since'; yourself easy. ;come during the half hour after sunset to-night. show it to me." It is possible that you can prevail on Adelaide sed and looked Ridelle to accompany you, and by so doing confer a favor on the gallant Pierre Moran, who exclaimed, joy- will be with me. Do not deem me bold inmak- iessenger. The ing this request, for I do not urge you to confer rived. Fortune so great a pleasure upon me; but I should. ever e mademoiselles be grateful for your condescension. The satis- t-doux, and-I will faction of seeing you again would banish from red friends. I my mind the memory of half its recent wrongs. If I do not see you to-night beneath the.shade the king's com- of the cypress, I will be at the same-spot to- morrow night, and please myself with a:faint for sympathy in hope that you are coming, but that your foot- night she as ar- steps linger to try my love. with the s'ame "Dear Helen, I have room to write ,nos more. low in the heav- Offering you the best homage of my heart, I and bounding remain, Yours truly. e second time.'' HI as at liberty was Mademoiselle Lerowe read this note with a d changed the -pleasure known only to the woman who truly' d feelings. The loves. She felt the blood mantling'her cheeks, elt assured that and her pulses confessed a quicker motion. be proved. With a bashful smile she handed, the paper to n street, a stran- Adelaide. of the Levee, " Shall I read, mademoiselle ?" she asked. i moment with " You may, undoubtedly," replied Helen, with sed her, placing a smile. g, as he did so : Adelaide availed herself of the liberty thus this is for you." given, and read the note with evident pleasure, n. Our heroine " Who cares for Pierre Moran ?" she exclait- r name written ed, with affected contempt. cters of Henri. " Mademoiselle Ridelle cares for him,"' said ced the precious Helen. kened her pace. " Not at all; nevertheless I will consent to go and after the with you for company," returned Adelaide. he paper from " I have not said that I should go," answered carefully depos- Helen. "But of course you will," added Adelaide. "It does not necessarily follow that because )tless, you have a person is requested to do a thing she -ii do n. Yes, I am it," rejoined Helen.' again.' I can "Yet it does usually happen that young ma. f the beautiful demoiselles go to meet their -lovers bym on of thie running light," said Adelaiide. ~ezes of heaven '"etus speak seiously, Adelaide. gleesome birds " With all my heart, mademoiselle." page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 1 THE WHITE ROVER. ,"I W"Vill.seriously assure you, then, to begin with, that' I do, not . feel as though I ought to comply with Henri's request, I doubt whether itwould be aidenly togrant him an interview under auch 14reumstances. My heart, Adelaide, tells me to= go,, but there is a secret monitor within rmybosom that bids me'stay-.'' a":Would it not give you pleasure to see him, mademoiselle ?" "Why do you ask, Adelaide ? Do you not read your answer'upon my glowing cheeks, and inmy earnestmovements ? Most gladly would I flyto meet my foster-brother." "How convenient it is for you to call him bro4lwr. Ah, Helen, what a nice excuse for lov- ing him I" ."And what-excuse have you for loving Pierre MoranVI" asked Helen. I have never said I loved him, Mademoiselle Helen." ", ot with your. lips, but your actions have beenktelling me so this long-time." "Why, mademoiselle !" exclaimed Adelaide, with a:blush. I think I shall not go to the cypress tree," said Helen, after a pause. "That would be cruel, after Henri has suffered as much." "It ,might seem so at the first thought." 'He-riskarhis life every time he comes near I.ew Aleans,.you know, Helen." t"Too true, Adelaide." T c ieuitis evidently your duty to see him to- -ight,,and prevent him from coming again." "You use powerful and convincing arguments, A&4laiies especially when the heart is already pmmpting ma:to'that course,", said Helen, with a smile and a blush. "It is near sunset; let us-go beforeoyou return l ;ue Ilove to watch the.sun-go down behind the distant hills, and see his last beams lingering, pgao the frauches of the trees, as if caressing them before retiring. Come, do not say no, be- 9 now you admirethebeauties of a ruddy unso.as much or more than I do. You are all ,y .o, excuses.-away to the cypress A { F } s d+°delaide. eare you going, ;girls ?" asked Ma- u a Ridelle, when she saw Helenand Adelaide #e house. sp $bpn mu ae replied Adelaide, gaily. Wrsse on " returned Madame, Ridelle; ;.ca'g atpp ; mother; it is wicked.torplay upon words,"replied the daughter. "Well, do'not go far, or you will be running into danger. Several Indians have been seen hovering about the outskirts of the town lately. Do not go out of sight of the house, for we have had sorrow enough, recently, and if' anything shouldhappen to you and Mademoiselle Helen, it would quite unnerve me," returned Madame Ridelle, with true-motherly earnestness. " We will be very cautious, dear mother," answered Adelaide, and then Helen walked slowly away towards what is now known as St. James's street ; a spot which was then covered by a heavy growth. As Helen moved on, enlivened by the conver- sation of her companion, she felt her spirits re- viving, and the mental depression which she had felt for the last half hour, leaving her. The sun was setting when they reached the cypress' named in the note. Its burning disc glowed fiery red as it sank gently and almost imperceptibly in the, far-off west. Its departing beams fell with undimmed splendor upon the cypress boughs over the heads of the young girls.I "Let us 'sit down, mademoiselle, upon this mossy knoll," said Adelaide. The fair mesdemoiselle sat side by side. Soft and fragrant breezes fanned their brows, and set the green leaves in motion. The continuous roar of the rolling waters of the Mississippi,; modulated to a dreamy and pleasant monotony, was borne to their ears.' Birds sang gaily from the pendant branches. " Am I not a prophetess, mademoiselle ? Did I not assure you that the sun would set glori- ously, to-night ?" §aid Adelaide, enthusiastically. "It is indeed a calm and lovely hour. The ruddy glow of the setting sun, the gentle sighing of the scented winds, the sweet song of the untir- ing birds, together with the agreeable' murmur' of the Golden -River, has -a bewildering charm for me," replied Helen, earnestly. " To me there is sweetest music in the voices of'-nature'; they have power to attune my spirit to responsive harmony. I would that my life could pass on in an even current, amid scenes and sounds like' these, far away in the dense green wood. 'It, seems to me that one might grow better, if not wiser, and more fit for the world to come.. To commune with nature is to cultivate an agree- ment with all terrestrial things. No really bad, men, 1 am inclined to believe, have ever been true lovers of nature."'. "I agree with you," said Adelaide. "I ha often had such thoughts, but Ihave not often the companionship of a friend to whom I could express them. Look ! the sunbeams are getting lower upon the cypress; they already fall upon the trunk, and will soon be to the ground. It is, nearly time for Henri to be here." of Why did you not say Pierre Moran, instead of Henri?" replied Helen. "Because I seldom speak of him," said Ade- laide. 't"I do not wonder that the red men love the forest," continued Helen. " It would indeed be singular if they, did not. Born in the forest, reared in the forest, they know no fitting home - save that." Helen paused. "I thought I heard a sound," she added. "It was but the echo of your own voice," said her companion. "There is something noble in an Indian. He is true to his instincts, and true to his friends," resumed Helen. "Hark!" interrupted Adelaide. "I am quite certain I heard footsteps." " It is near the hour," replied Helen. "The sun's disc is now hidden by those distant ranges of hills. It is the transition hour-ethe birth of twilight." Adelaide -uttered a piercing shriek, as at that instant the dark, tall figures of two Indians stood beside them- Adelaide continued to send forth shriek after shriek ; but Helen Lerowe was speechless with terror. One of the savages laid his tawny hand upon Adelaide's arm, and mo- tioned her to silence. " White squaws go with us," he said, in indif. ferent French. "No ! no ! we cannot !" cried Adelaide, in an agony of terror, attempting at the same time to free herself from her captor. But the powerful hand that was upon her held her fair, round arm as though it had been a feeble infant's. " Must go with us-mount fine horse-ride a great way-cross rivers and valleys-find anoth- er country, full of great prairies, where the sun . shines always-where are many fine lakes- where game is plenty." While the savage was speaking, two more ap- peared, leading horses. He who had spoken, lifted Helen in his arms and placed her upon one of the-animals, and the other performed the same service for Adelaide. The former, who had somewhat recovered her presence of mind, now besought their captors in the most moving'terms to suffer them to return home in safety ; but she might have spared her eloquence, for, her words fell upon ears seldom moved to pity by touching appeals. With emotions which no pen can describe, she saw the red sons of the forest mount their horses. One took the steed upon which she had been placed, by the bridle, another rode up to her side to keep her steady in her seat, and to prevent her from attempting to escape ; two more as- sumed the same position in relation to Adelaide, and in this order they struck into the forest, slowly ate first, but increasing their speed as the fair captives became inured to the motions. of the horses. Adelaide still continuing to utter piercing cries, the savage who rode by her side sternly bade her'be quiet, and pointed significantly to his scalping-knife. The poor girl shuddered, and her fears were still more keenly excited. Knowing that her outcries arose unheard by those who.would gladly assist them, Helen en- treated her to be silent (since resistance was useless), and submit passively to her fate, " God," she added, " is able to protect us in -all places. Our friends will surely attempt our' rescue." Although our heroine struggled to comfort her companion and hide her own fears, her sufr, ferings were not the less intense. ,She beheld before her a long and tedious journey, and all the horrors of captivity 5 and finally, doubtless, a death of whose agonies she shuddered to think. She perceived at a glance, that their captors'did not belong to any of the neighboring tribes, and she was not long in concluding that they were Camanches, a nation of whose prowess she had heard much. They were as numerous as the leaves of the forest, and bold and warlike in their habits. She had, on many occasions, heard the governor and St. Dennis talk of their daring exploits, and of their cruelties ; but little did she dream at that time of ever falling into thelf hands. She felt assured (providing they were really Camanches) that they would cross the Mississippi before morning, and then pursue their journey in a north-western direction. Helen was correct in her conjectures. After going forward ,about an hour, they halted oi the banks of the river. The horses were taken over in a flat-boat, and they passed over in a canoe. " It is singular," said Helen, "that they shpuld have a flat-boat. It is not the kind of craft they make use of, and they manage it rather awkwai-dly." THE WfTE ROVER. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] TIm WHITE ROVER. "It is one they have stolen from our people, ly," 'replied Adelaide. " They steal horses, ii hy should'theynot appropriate other things opilonging to them, to their own use ?" After we re-commence our journey upon the 'hprside,' added Helen, in a whisper, while were crossing.the river, " endeavor by every lnj xiious expedient tq leave some indications ije have passed along. When occasion of- *rrp portions of your scarf, or handker- f or ribbons upon your bonnet, gloves-- apything to mark the course we may take; for %e ass red all such indications will be sought for with eagerness by those who may attempt to follow us." owthoughtful of you," replied her com- pan on. YI will follow your instructions. And _ vol d contrive to iang:this green ribbon tupon the branch of a tree, it could scarcely fail 'tQ uttragt attention, and Pierre Moran would know it, am sure, When he learns what our fate has been he will shoulder his doubie-barrelled ride, andforests and lakes, mountains and run- - rivers will not be able to stop him. He is an experienced woodsman, and can follow a - -ike a bloodhound. More than one of these- av : + s re doomed if he takes their trail. Mdedltrifle will speak ae than once, and s'tl ..says it never cracks ii vain, for his a iserring " h rt ou do not love Pierre," returned Helen, ng daly, though the smile cost her a severe frt I love him now, Helen," replied Adelaide. 'And while Pierre is upon the trail, Adelaide, where do you think the White Rover will be I" a elen. } 01u enough! !Ah, they will' both follow exclaimed Adelaide, in a more hopeful tones eased with this new idea; and our hero- ta y of comfort in seeing her friend thus " y; father, too, is, skilled in wood craft. His wounds are healed, and he will never remain nie ily at.home while we are in the power of savages: But there is one thing which I had no thohgt of ?how will Pierre Moran and en i Delcroix learn our sad story ?" 1 -' " By some means, assuredly," answered Helen, with a sigh. " Ah, you sigh, my dear mademoiselle ; you see that it is impossible that either of them should learn anything in relation to our fate. We shall perish in the wilderness ;" and Ade- laide wept afresh. "Exercise more fortitude, my companion in affliction," said Helen, mildly. " Do not despair. Whatever our sufferings may be, let us remem- ber that, repinings or self-reproaches will not avail us anything. Patience, fortitude, courage, and watchfulness are the qualities that we are called upon to exercise, and the only traits of character worthy of us at present, or that can serve us in this emergency. Set the example for me, Adelaide. Let me see how strong your heart is ; how much noble heroism you possess," "Dear Helen !" exclaimed Adelaide, "that noble heroism which you speak of, you display in your own character. Your gentle admoni- tions bring me to my senses. It -was myself that was the author of your misfortunes, and yet I am the first to repine. Forgive me, my friend, and in future I will strive to emulate your heroic conduct.". In a short time the river was safely passed. The captives were again placed upon the horses, and the whole patty moved on in the same order as before, in a north-western direction, as Helen had anticipated; but they went forward at much greater speed. It was a long and dreadful night to the cap- [tves. Though reared in a new country, they had never been subject to hardship, yet often in peril. Their powers of endurance were tested to the utmost., . They were forced to ride through a tract of country still encumbered with its pri meval forests, sometimes lying in gentle swells, often broken and rugged, and cut up by small streams, traversed by lonely valleys, and not unfrequently rendered pleasant'by an unclouded moon, and before morning the fair captives were far from New Orleans. Leaving them to pursue their dreary way through the trackless wilder- ness, we will now turn our attention to other characters. CHAVgER Xiii. THE SECRET AGENT-THE DISCOVERY. AT the time of the abduction of Mesdemoiselle Helen and Adelaide, de Bienville was sitting in his study in earnest conversation with a person- age whom we have not yet introduced to the reader, and who is worthy of some description. He was a man just in the prime of life, and rather above the medium, .size. His features were regular, and somewhat stern in their ex- pression; the eyes dark, deep-set and piercing ; the forehead high, and the perceptive faculties strongly marked. The formation of the mouth expressed much determination of character and firmness of purpose. 1e was obviously a man who had seen much of I fe, and one who would not shrink from danger hen convinced that he was pursuing the path o duty. " Boisbriant," said the governor, "I am glad to' see you. I have been much perplexed since your absence, and now erhaps you can advise me how to act. What othis Indian alliance ?" " Since I saw you," eplied Boisbriant, "I have passed through the territories of the most powerful and most to b dreaded tribes of Indi- ans. No matter what di guise I have assumed, or how I have obtained ny information, or how many hair-breadth escapes I have had, suffice it that I have learned about this 'dangerous move- ment among the red men. There is danger be- fore ui. The French colony is threatened with destruction." " Can you inform me who is the leader of this hostile demonstration ?" asked 'de. .Bienville, earnestly. " Onalaska-nost commonly called Red-Shoe -the Chickasaw chief," answered Boisbriant, promptly. "Do-you know whether the slaves have really joined in this movement, or more, properly, whether they intend to rise against their masters when the Indians attack the different settle- ments ?" '" That is truly their intention, your excellen- cy," replied Boisbriant. " Will you do me the favor to read this," said, the governor,.taking the scroll of birchen bark from the desk, which Henri had sent by La Glorieuse. Boisbriant read the missive with great appar- ent interest. " Should you say that the writer of those lines speaks the truth ?" asked delBienville, anxiously. "Most undoubtedly. With me the name of the writer would be a sufficient guarantee ,of the entire truthfulness of every word," returned Bois- briant, without hesitation. " You have doubtless heard of the young man's arrest, imprisonment, trial, condemnation, &. ?" continued his excellency. " I have," said Boisbriant, drily. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 THE WHITE ROVER. "And what do you think of it ?" faltered the Louisiana than men give him credit for. Suffice governor. . it that he is very useful to me, consequently to "That it was a most wicked affair from be- you, and the whole colony ; and he is a man ginning to end" said Boisbriant, decidedly. who can-keep a secret. We have met often, What is your opinion of Captain Lesage ?" and we shall meet again. He has dared much resumed his excellency. peril, and is ready to risk his life again for his " That-he deserves hanging as much as ever a countrymen ; and yet men do not mistrust that man dig!" retorted the secret agent of de Bien there is one tie to bind him to the race .of man- ville, promptly. kind. I saw him to-day in the forest, and learned "'Is it possible that you really regard the from him the particulars of Henri Delcroix's young man as wholly innocent ?" added the arrest'and escape, and some things that would governor, musingly. make the ears of Lesage tingle." "Entirely so. Perhaps you will think me " You tell me strange things," said his excel- hasty in my decision, but I attribute the whole lency. ".Do you know Henri personally ?" affair to the agency of Lesage. fI grant that the ' " I know something of him by means of Pierre evidence against the White Rover was seemingly Moran and the Indians, much more by seeing conclusive, and that ydu acted as most other and observing him often, and by a knowledge of conscientious men would have done ; but you his conduct on several occasions ; but I never were all'wrong. Lesage is a villain, and you exchanged a word with him, or at least since he will find it so. I have excellent reasons for be. was a mere boy. But nevertheless, rest assured lieving that he is plotting with M. Hubert, the that I know him well." king's commissary, for your recall." " Come to me again with de Noyan and St. "I thank you for your candor, Boisbriant. I Ange, and we will discuss this matter at our feel a strange interest in Henri, and- I am glad leisure, and take such steps as may' be deemed tp hear aman like yourself speak in his favor. expedient in order to do justice to all parties," In regard to Lesage, I shall keep a watchful eye replied de Bienville ; and Boisbriant withdrew. upon him." ' * * " "Do the same by the commissary," added "Alice," said Louis Ridelle to his wife, "I disbriant. feel quite restored to health. I think I shall They shall both be looked after." venture into the woods to-morrow. I can't live The office of the commissary is a very pleas- away from the forest, you know." Mt one,":added the secret agent, with a smile. "The force of habit is strong," replied Ma- IIe watches the king's officers in this colony, dame Ridelle, with a sigh. " I wish, Louis, you but w ho will watch him ?" could content yourself at home until -these In- ' A&nd' keep the' ministry assured of his hon- diau troubles are over." esy rejoined his excellency, in the same am- M. Ridelle made no reply, but appeared biguous' manner. thoughtful. "As he does of yours," said Boisbriant, ironi- "It is time for Adelaide to return," said Ma- - ca1ly. "And, by the way, it has come to my dame Ridelle, at length. knowledge that he has written a long letter to " Where is she gone ?" asked her husband. 6 ministry recently, and your name occurs in "She and Mademoiselle Helen went away it more than once. It will be well for your ex- together." celleley to remember that M. Hubert and this "I hope they have notegone far. Which way Captain Lesage are on the most intimate terms. did they go ?" Whn two sach rogues get' together, some mis- " Up the river, towards the cypress grove." Chief is;being deliberated. ,Before I leave you. "That was very imprudent. It is no time for I st not forget to speak of one other individ- girls to. be out. I am sorry they went. It is nti o Moran." quite .dark now." O' ow hind, then ?" exclaimed de Bien- " I have been thinking about them for the last vil e, quickly. half hour," replied Madame Riddle. "To tell Wisttiant smiled. the truth, I feel uneasy about :them. I fear There are fewnmen in, Louisiana that I do something has happened.": not know. Pierre Moran is a true and tried "I hope not, Alice. Perhaps I had better heart. He knows much more of the affairs of take my rifle and go after them," returned d'elle. 1 F" , 4 t ii e THE WHIT His good wife did not oppose his design; and so Ridelle took his rifle and left the house, fol- lowing the course which she had indicated as having been taken by tl-e young girls. After he had been gone a short time, Madame Ridelle opened the door and looked anxiously out, in the hope of seeing the object of her so- licitude approaching. But she saw nothing save the clear blue sky, and the dim outlines of the surrounding forest. When she had gazed long and attentively, she was in the act of closing the door, when she perceived a folded paper lying near the threshold. .She stooped and secured it, and 'impelled by a pardonable curiosity, opened and read its contents. It was the note which Helen had received from Henri. The fears of Madame Ridelle sub- sided. " If the girls are with Henri and Pierre, they are safe," she said to herself. After the lapse of half an-hour, Louis Ridelle returned alone. His wife immediately showed him the note, remarking as she did so, that she' presumed they were in no great danger. "So it would seem," replied Louis, with a smile. Another half hour passed. Both Ridelle and his wife arose often and went to the door; but the same blue expanse met their gaze, the same dark outline of forest. "This suspense is growing painful to me !" exclaimed Ridelle, at length. " Something has happened to the girls. Adelaide was never ab- sent at this late hour before. I will walk to the spot indicated in the note." "I think you had better, Louis, for I don't .feel right," replied his spouse, in a tone betraying much anxiety. Ridelle took his rifle and left the house with more haste than before. With a foreboding sense of some new misfortune, he walked rapidly towards the cypress grove, and soon stood within, the sombre shade of the identical tree where the fair mesdemoiselle had sat and watched the set- ting sun. He called upon the names of Adelaide and Helen, softly at first, and then more loudly.. But the sweet voices of the maidens gave baek no response.. The loved names were only repeated in mocking echoes. Riddle walked along the margin of the wood, still iterating the names of the young ladies, but with no better success. The idea now occurred to him that both had possibly gone to. the governor's residence, and 'E ROVER. 63 that he should either find or hear from them there. Accordingly he hastened thither without de- lay. He learned that they were not there, and that Mademoiselle Helen had not been at home since dark. Louis hurried back to his own house, still buoyed up by the hope that they had already returned. The door of his dwelling was open, and Alice stood upon the steps. "Have they come ?" asked.Ridelle, hastily. "No, Louis ; have you not-seen them ?" "No, wife; I can find no traces of them. I have been to the forest, called them in a loud voice, and searched all along the woods skirting that part of the town. .I have been to the gov- ernor's residence, and Mademoiselle Helen has not been there since dark," replied Louis. " Bring me the lantern, wife, and I will go to the woods once more. I scarcely know how to ac- count for my sensations, but my heart is full of the most painful apprehensions, Make haste, Alice." Large tears stood in the eyes of Madame Ri- delle, as she placed the lantern in the eager hands of her husband. "Don't weep, wife ; my fears may be ground- less, after all," continued Louis. Seizing the lantern he ran to the orest with a speed that bore testimony to the extent of his fears. When he had reached the cypress tree which he be- lieved was mentioned in the note, he held the light near the earth and examined it attentively. With the ready tact of a veteran woodsman, he discovered the prints of human feet in the dis placed moss and leaves, upon the bent grass and birchens. " This is the impress of a female foot-small and daintily formed-Mademoiselle Helen's, or my good Adelaide's. They evidently sat 'here upon this mossy mound. It is easy for one who has followed an Indian trail to discriminate be- tween the light, small footstep of a woman,' ai1 the large, heavy step of a man." The forester paused, and held the lantern1still closer to the ground. " Ha 1" he exclaimed, "here is a track never made by the dainty feet of Adelaide or Helen. The toes incline in, and the heels out;- the owner of both wore moccasins, and was an Indian. Just Heaven ! I shudder to think of the fate f my poor girl, and my sweet friend and beneface tress. Here are more Indian tracks; and here are some footprints which do not turn in-a white man with moccasins on, doubtless. Where were Pierre and Henri ?" R page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] THE WHITE ROVER. Louis Iilelle ceased, overpowered by his em tions. Recovering his -self-possession, he r asme4: On this spot are signs of a slight struggle .the poor things tried to escape. Vain attemp one of those strong red hands were sufficient subdue thefeeble strength of half a dozen suc girls. But{what is here i horse tracks, as I liv The dear lassies are being borne swiftly away t the Indian country at this moment. And wh may this be I a small bracelet which Mademo sell elen wore.upon her pretty arm. In tI name ,of Heaven, where were Pierre and Hen a4 this time ! I ask again ?" exclaimed Ridell frantically, hopeope" he continued, solemnly, "they ha ro agegey in this matter. And yet thehote wi from-Henri, and Pierre's name was Imentione mOit,by his consent and approval, most likel It ishad enough to have my dear girl torn fro: me, borne 1 know not whither ; but it adds double poignancy to my grief to be obliged 1 suspect two such men of such cruelty and doub Stealing." After tracking for a short distance the hors( thtad bprne away his earthly treasure, Lou dielle .adly returned to his now desolate hom 4llepale, tearful and trembling, waited h co g-.". . Bear yourself heroically," said the foreste sorrowfully. "Our dear child and our love elen have been -arried away.by the Indians ane Ridelle lifted her hands to heave ipgqp eckless grief, and then fell senseless in: rbs d.s arms. Do zot sink under this cruel blow," add( as his wife slowly openedher eyes. " M own heart feels as desolate as yours, Alice ; I b aye, or itwill break. It is a tinie for actio V * i ie to give 'way to useless grief." ous j to think that our darling is thi wlly~otnra fromus !" "I'know it, wife; it comes home to me wit terribleforce." "And where were Pierre Moran and Hen eleoi " asked Madame Ridelle, with star lpg earpestnessa .,hage asked myself that question man $m . within the last half hour, Alice ; but __ y t answered it yet ;nor can I answer 111till do no good. Time will clear u tie :ystery, aml, explain all that seems dal "Wey can't be guilty; no, no! Louis, thn o- cannot be guilty !" exclaimed Aice, wild with e- grief. "Be quiet, wife," ,said Louis, soothingly. "I le. must now go, and inform the governor of what. t; has happened to his sweet ward." to " Don't tell him about the letter," replied Al- eh ice, with an imploring look. "It might make e ! them think less kindly of Henri." to " I will try and act for the best, Alice," replied at the forester, as he left his now solitary cabin. i- * Louis rang violently at the door of the gov- ce ernor's mansion.- ri " Tell the governor that Louis Ridelle would e, speak with him immediately," he said, in a husky voice, to the servant who appeared in answer to id the bell. as " His excellency is about retiring," replied the d servant. y. " I care not. I must see him, even if he were m already in bed and asleep." a Awed by the imperative manner of the forester to and his evident excitement, the servant carried le his message to the governor without delay. In a few moments Louis. stood face to face es with de Bienville.: is " I come to you the bearer of bad news," fal- e. tered Ridelle. " Helen, your ward, and any bene- is factress, has-" " What has happened to her ?" exclaimed the r, governor, impatiently. - cd " She and my daughter have been carried off ." by the Indians." en De Bienville grew very pale. to " When did this happen ?" he asked, quickly. ." This very night."- xd "Tell me the particulars so far as you know ly them," added the governor. be The forester related the manner. in which they n, had left the house, suppressing the fact that there had been a previous appointment by Henri. us " And have you no knowledge of their object in going to the forest at so late an hour ?" th Ridelle was much confused by this question, and his confusion did not escape the prying ri glance of de Bienville. t- "It was not very late, your excellency. The sun had not yet gone down when they left the ay house," stammered Louis. I . " There is something you would conceal from it, me, Monsieur Ridelle. I must know every par- ip ticular in order that I may know how to act. I rk command you, no, I entreat you,.to tll nJs.ate Was there not, some previous appointees s& ey was there not a note or something ofthate .in the affair I" J 5 f "F t 7 i THE WHIT The-honest forester could evade the governor no longer, and,he answered with some hesitation: " There was a note, your excellency." "Did you see it, or have you got it ?" de- manded de Bienville. " I have got it," said Ridelle. " To whom was it directe -?" " To Helen-your ward." " Give it to me instantly, Monsieur Ridelle. I have a right to know everything that relates to her," added the-governor, somewhat sternly. With a sorrowful heart the forester drew the note from his pocket where he had placed it after its perusal, and put it, into the trembling hand of the governor. De Bienville's brow grew dark and stormy as he read it. " The knave, the double villain !" he exclaim- ed, angrily, stamping violently upon the floor. " Would that he had been hanged before this wickedness had been consummated." Then turning sternly to the forester, he said, in a reproachful voice: " Do you affect not to understand all this, Monsieur Ridelle ? Are you so blind that you cannot see whose hand has brought this sore calamity upon us ? Tell me no more of the in- nocence of that young dissembler. He is guilty -guilty as-" De Bienville checked himself. ""This note is in Delcroix's hand-writing Monsieur Ridelle, is it not ?" he asked. "I am forced to confess-"that it is," answered Louis. "tIt is the same as that upon the birchen scroll and he acknowledges that'to be his," added the governor. "It's too true, your excellency," replied th forester, sadly. "I have recently been striving to convince myself that Lesage is a villain; but this affai cannot well be laid upon the shoulders of Lesage as broad as they are. This is undoubtedly th chirography of the Rover. Stay, I will compar it with some of his writing that I have in m desk." % ' - The governor produced the scroll he had re ceived from Henri, and compared the tw together. "I can detect no difference, Monsieur Ridelle he said, after looking at"the characters attentivel " There is possibly something about this y{ to be discovered," added the forester. " The is still a chance for Pierre and Henri to b inocent." [E ~ROVER. 65 " I hope so, most sincerely. My poor, poor Helen ! . I loved her, Monsieur Ridelle, as well as though she had been my own child. Her amiable disposition, her beauty, her many grace- ful and endearing ways, have entirely won my love. This is a severe blow to me. Alas, and for you, also, my friend. But what shall be done ?" " I must take to the trail and follow the dear girls until I f1nd them, or die in the attempt. I am an old woodsman, your excellency, and there is no living thing in the forest that I fear, whether it be savage, or wild beast. Yes," he continued, with increasing energy, " I shall go after them, and if they have suffered wrong at the hand of any white man, that man shall die ; I, Louis Ridelle say it, and will say it until I make my word good." " Noble heart !" exclaimed de Bienville. " Heaven, I feel assured, will reward your efforts with success. But you shall not go alone. I will give you as many men as you choose, to be under your command." " I thank you," replied the forester, " but I do not want them. One experienced hunter is worth a whole army of raw soldiers on the trail. They wont do ; they would do more harm than good. Trust the whole matter to me. A father's love will not sleep, and will leave no means un- tried to rescue his darling." , I do, and will trust it all to you," said the governor, earnestly, "and feel that I could not 1 entrust the important business to better 'hands. I know that you will not be idle or inactre; , for a daughter's safety claims all° your energies e of body and mind. Iftyou want arms, imiuni- tion, or men, come to me, and all shall be at e your command." As nothing further could be said or 'done in e relation to the unhappy affair, the forester took r leave of the governor to make preparations for , following the abductors of his daughter. Upon e his way to his cabin, he met Captains Lesage. e He was hurrying past him, when the captain y addressed him: "Good evening, Monsieur Ilidelle. Whither - away so fast " o "Excuse me, captain. I have urgent business to attend to at this time," replied Louis. ," "My dear friend, you seem afflicted. What y. has happened ?" exclaimed the captain, in tones et denoting the deepest interest. re " My Glaughter, captain-my daughter has-" ed " Speak, Monsieur Ridelle ! Tell me what x r i page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] happ ted to MademoiselleAdelaide?" cried ge earnesy._ $ 6 8heha been seized by the Indians and car- rte4 away,' added theforester, looking search- 7 y a ge. s: &cr1Dieu!IIIs it possible Y!,ou curdle my blood with horr1'" exclaimed the, captain,.with, wel acted sincerity. "How long since this sad occurrece l'he added, apparently astounded at whathis ears had heard. This ery night," said Louis. S4z ;yowell assured that the savages;'have 1 seedrobibed you of your fair girl,?" continued in the sa ne sympathizing, anjpus tone.. gone, and Mademoiselle Lerowe-has sbe4tle same uhappyfate." . Io !' exclagied the captain, recoiling with r 2r_ ol you but jest. The savages dare nota nn it an act of such uncalled-for cruelty. ii--.saitd [onsieyr Ridelle, your intelligence seasmEI°oresk e some horrible nightmare I We, hi indeed fallen upon troublous times." ig this interview the forester had watched tksfP - es of Ins geattentively, nd hisswell - 4 surise and horrorhad its effect upon him x diselerite d.. from the-desepestrecesesa of my e aid the uaptgin in that o subdued,, c ;i4 9 eWhich hecould, simulate so well. # 74$l happen that they shuod both go to S 'atthe hour: ofevening, when it is so ven to venturethere1" a said Louis, evasively. r aelazcholr,' added Lgsage.I strangeFthought has just occurred to me," ' #T nmsing tone, "but I fain would, i's { t rT governor ward, it is supposed, +a ibnt ,6 partial to that misguided youth but i i fron the hands of justice., Think you, MonsieurRidelle, that she .went to the for- est to.inethi?" " It is'possible," said the forester. "I hope, Monsieur,,Ilidelle, that there has been fair play-that the Rover knows no more of this melancholy transaction than'he.should. It is possible that I am speaking to one of that person's best friends; but if I am,:I really can- not help it. I beg your pardon, but I truly can- not altogether repress my emotions, more -espe- cially as Isee by your own manner that you have your suspicions. Yes, you cannot disguise it; you have suspicions, and I know which way tbhey point. I sympathize with you deeply; and am ready to assist you all in my power. Think I can, in some measure, understand the feelings of a kind and devoted parent under such a dis- pensation as youahare been called to suffer.- My emotions;are getting the better-I-I--excuse my weakness, but my feelings towards the author of this unparalleled outrage are far from pacific and forgiving. :I ought to exercise; Christian charity, but, by all the saints in the calendar, I can't do it I. Good night, friend Ridelle, good night. , Iwill see, the governor, and something shall be done immediately.". (captain Lesage wiped his eyes, grasped the hilt of his swordfiercely, and strode away. He left the forester standing in the, street, quite confounded'at the exhibition 6f so much eloquence and sympathy. - He resumed his homeward way, absorbed in thought. Just as- he entered his own door, he exclaimed, half aloud : " Hag, :the fellow! he's too sympathizing. His heart isn't apt to overflow so suddenly. The captain has either been serving the devil lately, pris going to immediately ;. I mu'st, find out which it is." "I A weary of staying here with these sava- ges," said Pierre Moran, upon the morning suc- ceeding the events just related. " I confess I ain not greatly pleased with hav- ing my movements so much restrained," replied the Rover. "Let us:leave our red friends, then, for a few hours, and walk towards New Orleans," added the hunter. " The proposal suits me well," answered Hen- ri. "I long to look once more upon the spot containing the object of niy love," "You have expressed my own emotion," said Pierre. "Ldok i the sun is just trembling upon the rim of the horizon. A snart walk of an hour will take us to the margin of the woodbordering New Orleans, from whence we may see tiOe dwellings which contain these so dear to us. And yet;when I think of it, so near an approach to the town may be attended with danger to both, more particularly to-you." "-Brave mien and true lovers heed no danger," answered the Rover, with a smile. " Take your rifle and let us:go.". The two foresters walked rapidly towards the new settlement. I°bpe the day will6bmie," resumed Henri, "'henIihay approachNew Orleansas an lion- est man should-without a single stain upon, r.'aime and character." " That day will most surely arriv my friend,. replied Moran. " I feel in my hea that itill. Lesage will'yet be exposed, and sHuer thep+j-" alty ever-due to wickedness. If humaniujustic# does not reach him, God's justice will" "My spirit grows sad within me," said the Rover, "as we approach-New Orleans. am forget-the bitter wrong 'that.has; been doni there. 'It makes my blood burn with indigna tion and shame: to think:of it. The period q.wl come when I will prove to the whole colony that I despise, a traitor, and love the French. "I doubt it not, gallant Rover," responded Pierre: The lengthened strides .of the foresters-soon brought them to the borders of New O9leus. "Beneath this eypress,"=resumedBenrisadly, " I once met Helen Lerowe, by the merest ac- dent; but I have reason- to suppose that it a a pleasurable meeting ,to both. I know, itVas to me.. While standing exactly here where p do now, Lesagey like a bird of.evil omengpagg us. I saw him look at Helen and me.-I well remember how his keen, snaky, Agraymhey;gwa fastened upon me during that brief itorya'of time which he occupied: in passing., Jd a presentiment even then, that that ma i as my, enemy. Time has ;proved :theg preseCi pat sooth. Pierre -Moran, I, ,rdentlydloig :Qr CHAPTER XIV. SUCCESSFUL vILLANY-TO 'r RESCUE. W T- # RO VI page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] THE WHITE ROVER t9 time when I can meet him face to face, and pun- ish him for his sia. The Rover utter e concluding sentence in a voice of deep feeling. "It was with the greatest difficulty that I could refrain from spurning him with my foot when he dared to stand up before me and offer me money to take the life ofa fellow-man!" exclaimed Mo- ran. " Had I known you and him as I now do, most bitterly should he have suffered for his in- solence. The moment I saw you-when you hurled aside the savages, and scattered the blaz- ing brands to the winds, I knew you; for the 'lying chief' had described you well-his only tribute to truth in a long time, probably. I will now step'forward a little to get a glimpse of Monsieur Ridelle's house. If I see any of the towns-people stirring, I will tell you, and if all is quiet we can perhaps venture a little nearer." Pierre Moran left the Rover sitting beneath the 'cypress, and advanced towards the town. In a moment he called to his comrade, saying: "I can see Monsieur Ridelle's. All is quiet; none of the towns-folks seem. to be on the ui ve. They little think we are so fear, I dare Villain! robber ! seducer of innocence " ered a deep,,stern voice, "there is one who is o1 thaq:vive.-one who suspects you-one who, knows you'are near;" and then Louis:Ridelle, deadlypale, and fearfully excited, stepped forth trmi behind the trunk of a large sycamore. t idtat'" exclaimed the bold hunter, aston- islid 'eyond measure.' rIll'feign astonishment! consummate h 0iei ,'1" continued Ridelle, with increasing vehemeree. "Bring her back, restore her to " Monsieur Ridelle," began Pierre, much em- b *aAse hy his unaceountable conduct. " Give o backdny-daughter. and throw off the #nt arat oncei or I may forget that it is a crifidenkt tthe life of a human being," added "Iheiow nothing of your'daughter, Monsieur RieIle. E pel q iinklyi and tell me what has hapyetedAtbdelaide 1" cried the hunter, con- viiedthat-hisfriend was laboring' under some amd fl mistakee htl1(*yo 'ever see this note before " said I dH, avcastieally, holding upathe folded pa- p tftlen s nani xboa it. " I ' nF liIieirrej more and more be- wilded i halhili'erd and a*i. S " Why, should you add falsehood to the crime of robbing a parent of his child ?" rejoined Louis. "I had cherished a secret hope that you were innocent, and that all might. yet be explained; but your own words just now undeceive my too credulous heart. Pierre Moran, this insult, this r great wrong, can only be washed out in blood." " Here is some fatal mistake,'\ said the Rover, coming forward and standing between Ridelle and Moran. "And you, probably, never saw this before ?" added the former, holding up the note once more.- I protest that I never did, to my knowledge," replied Henri, calmly. Mon Dieu 1" groaned Louis. "What hardi- libod !" "oMonsieur Ridelle, will you permit me to look at that paper ." said Henri. Ridelle threw it contemptuously at his feet, and watched the Rover's countenance as he read it. " M.Ridelle,"said our hero, handing the paper to Pierre, 1I most solemnly assure you that I did not write a single letter of that note, and I call heaven and earth to witness to my words." " Tell me what meaning I shall attach to the strange words of Pierre Moran which he uttered when he first stood upon that knoll and looked towards the cabin now robbed of its dearest inmate ?" "I meant that escaping from prison as I had so recently done by his assistance, that all our, movements might be watched by those anxious to work my ruin. We approached the town with caution, for the purpose of looking upon the spot rendered dear to us by those we love., The remarks of our mutual. friend, Moran, had relation only to the peculiar circumstances in which we are placed. Neither of us entertained the remotest idea that aught unfortunate had befallen Adelaide-the fair girl so highly es- teemed by us all." The bereaved forester sat down-upon the earth and covered his face with.his hands. " I know not what to think," he said, sadly. "Perhaps I have been too hasty:;; if I have, you will forgive a heart-broken man :when I tell you that Adelaide has been stolen from me;. and that Helen Lerowe has shared the same fate." The White Rover staggered beneath the terri- ble intelligence; while Pierre Moran stood ak if transfixed. to the. earth, with pale cheek aid staring eye. "I forgive you, friend Ridelle," said Pierre, at length,in a mournful voice, " and now nake haste to tell me all you know of this strange affair." " Quick, quick, for I burn with impatience !" cried Henri, while the blood rushed back to his face again, and his eyes flashed with indignation. The forester related all that he knew of the abduction from beginning to end, including his interview with the governor, and with Lesage. " Can you not see," exclaimed the Rover, im- patiently, "that this is the work of Lesage ? Fools ! fools ! are ye all, not to perceive it. Where is the trail ? Let us not waste time, but pursue the abductors to the death.; Come, Ri- delle, be a man ; up and away. Now, Pierre, is the time to prove our claims to woodcraft." "Right, brave boy, right. Shake hands with me, both of you, to assure me of your forgive- ness !" exclaimed Ridelle. "With all my heart and soul," said Pierre. "Here is a hand that never betrayed you, and never will." "And here is another that will never be idle until your daughter is restored to -your arms," added Henri. " I thank you, my brave lad.. I was mad to suspect you for a moment. And pow I am ready for the trail. Here is where the dear girls sat beneath this tree, expecting your foot, steps every moment, no doubt; and were ex- pecting you when their captors sprang to their side and secured them. The trail starts here and winds off in that direction. I came here to follow it alone, determined never to return with- out my darling." "I perceive that,the party who stole the maid- ens were mounted," remarked Pierre, while .he examined the ground attentively. "cAnd by the particular shape of the hoof, I - learn that they were mounted upon horses young and strong," said the Rover. "By the tracks here beneath the cypress," re- sumed Pierre, "I know that the active agents in this transaction were Indians ; for here are foot- prints which toe in." 5 "I have discovered tracks which do Not toe in," returned the Rover, quickly. " Sufficient evidence," rejoined Pierre, " that the enterprise was conducted by a white man." "I am glad you have made these discoveries," said Louis. " I had already arrived at the same conclusions. I am fortunate indeed to have such assistants. There is one thing more to be considered ; can you tell what tribe of Indians left this trail ?" "I think I shall be able to tell you after fol- lowing the trail one hour," said Henri. '. " The trail bends towards the Mississippi," re- turned Ridelle. The little but determined party now moved slowly along the trail, noticing the faintest i- prints left by horses'. feet. "As many as six horses have passed over this ground," observed the hunter. " I was about to make the same remark," said Henri. As the trail was very plain, the foresters now quickened their pace and in less than an hour reached the place where the party crossed the river. There was now a consultatipn inregard to-the manner in which they should reach the opposite shore.. To construct a raft with their hatchets competent to secure them a safe passage-acrog. the Father of Waters, would not be an easy task,; and so Ridelle volunteered to retrace his steps along the river's bank until-he should meet with some boatman or reach the town, where :he could easily procure a canoe. Without loss of time he hurried away to put his resolution in practice. Pierre sat;down on the bank of the river; but Henri was too impatient and restless to remain a. moment at rest, ana so he walked away-by himself to indulge in his own melancholy thoughts without being seen by a human being. Scarcely conscious which way he went, he con- tinued his walk for some time, and as it hap. pened towards the town. THE WHITE ROVER. page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] d1tx,"at leng .abated his pace, and finally n upon the trunk of a fallen birch. He e oishceely assunied that position when he was at e saw a human figure passing swiftly Q noft e trees. The Rover sprang from his t and-darting onward with the rapidity of a Sde s'aodfill in the man's 'path. W lh avb"siet at last, Captain Lesage," said thp Rover, with, a biter smile. "I have ever "&erd th at' this happiness was in reserve for : of'fVtieur" recoiled precipitately three dfi p es. He did not speak, for he could i sst rpi'se and consternation were too allow him to call his vocal organs into- i .~~ '"We stood and gazed fixedly at Henri, S pilte cheekiand treamulous limbs. T eife1ee captain, that this meeting is un- expected to you, and ihea you by surprises' You may well tremble to meet the man whose lif you foully conspired against, and whom you perjured yourself to convict of a capital crime. TIhus far, Heaven in its impartial justice has ovrturued many of youth schemes, and I hope it will inits mercy, baffle that one in which you arenow engaged. Do- not affect an astonish- ment you do not feel, captain, for with me it will vail nothing. I am well persuaded that{ tietwo mnising maidens have been abducted by your agency; but I do mest solemnly assure you-and you may write it down in your mem- ory as something certain-that yon' will never live to reap ithe reward which you earnestly hoped to when planning this new piece of vil- lany. Helen Lerowe scorns you with her whole soul, and were she a thousand miles from here in the very heart of a savage country, she would still spurn you from her with unutterable con- tempt." " This insolence shall not be forgotten !" ex- claimed Lesge, passion at length getting the better of his fears. "Be careful that you tempt not my mood !" retorted Henri. " I may forget myself, and throw you into the waters of that darkly;flowing river: Who could tell the' tale of your death, if some days from hence your body should be found among the dank weeds many miles below here ?"' " Remember, vain and impudent boaster, that I am armed," returned the captain, laying his hand upon his sword. " Iknow how to use this weapon," -he added, with a show of courage which he did not really feel. "I care not for your swordI To me it is'but a feeble reed; for I have right and justice upon my side, and without these the best-tempered steel loses its keen edge. The polished blades I I THE Will of Toledo are net formidable when wielded by men who pervert truth and trample honor under their feet, when matched with those who fight in efence of innocence and virtue." " What dos all this idle nonsense portend ?". cried Lesage. "Out of my path, and let me pass!" " Do not stir," returned they Rover, impres- sively, " do not stir as much as a single inch, un- til I have done with you." "This u paralleled effrontery surpasses all my powers o endurance I" exclaimed the captain. " Who but contemptible cowards would hire a man to slay a fellow-creature in cool blood. Think of it, captain, and tear those badges which tell your rank, from your shoulders. I shall live to expose your villany yet." "But you will never live to wed Helen Le- rowe !" retorted Lesage, whose courage was mo- mentarily rising as he saw no absolute hostile demonstrations on the part of Henri. " Speak not of her, Lesage. Do not repeat often the name of Helen Lerowe. She is too pure for lips like yours to speak of." "'leale yourself with that delusive idea, if you will; but know, insolent adventurer, that she, loves me." "Loves you !" exclaimed Henri, disdainfully. Ay, son of nobody, I had it from her own lips," returned Lesage, with a sneer. "I believe you uttef a falsehood. You might reiterate that a thousand times, and I would not credit the talc," replied Henri. The captainwas now thoroughly aroused. "The governor's ward would not link her des- tiny with a condemned felon, without name and- without parentage. Perliaps you never thought of thist:;,but she has; and so has the governor. No ! no 1" continued the captain, with a mock- ing laugh, f Helen 4towe, the fairest maiden in Louisianawillnever wed the son of nobody," The nerves of the Rover could bear no more. Before the- captain had anticipated the move- ment enough to draw his sword, he had sprung towards him and struck him down with his clenched hand, and spurned him with his foot. Stung to madness by the punishment, Lesage recovered his feet as quickly as possible, and matdp furious passes at Henri with his sudord ; but the latter parried them with his tomahawk, which he wielded with a dexterity only acquired by long association with the Indians. In a mo- ment the eagtain's weapon was broken at the a to . TE ROVER. . "I will not cheat the hangman," said Hen4, as Lesage stood disarmed before him, and at hia mercy. " I will leave you to a punishment far greater than any I can now inflict; for it is not impious to believe, that heaven has already marked you for a fearful doom. Go, and re' member that I shall ever be upon your track, to detect your villanies and expose your wicked! ness." With these words Henri walked away. He had gone but a few paces when he heard the re- port of a pistol, and a ball whistled by his head. He turned quickly towards the spot where he had left Lesage, and saw him runningas fast at he was able. The Rover. levelled his rifle, but changed his mind, and did not fire, " Not now," he said to himself, "not now. Let me wait till my innocence is established, and then I shall see hira sinking to his proper place." "It would be a waste of powder and ball" said a voice. Henri looked towards the speaker and beheld a man in the prime of life, and wea- ing the garb of a forester. "You have -done well to spare him, young= man I" he added. " The measure ,of his wiel~~ edness is not yet full. Let him go on:for a sho time longer, ,and his career of crime will be consummated." " You know Lesage, then ?" said Henri, aston- ished at what he heard. "I know him well. I, have observed hi. long, and when other eyes failed to detect his villanies. The day of his triumph is well nigh spent; the night of his disgrace and ignominy approaches. , I have heard of the abduction +t the maidens. I am well.assured thatyou, had gpo agency in it ; neither had Pierre Moran." " It would seem that you know me also?" plied the Rover. " Believe me, Monsieur Deleroix, tha thee are but few I do not know in the French colony,' answered the stranger, whom the reader win recognize as Boisbriant, the secret agent of d Bienville. "Should I be deemed impertinent wereIh Y ask with whom I am conversing ?" askedor hero, much interested in the stranger. "I am one who flits silently from place place ; one who is known by many names, and familiar with many disguises ; one who se much,;Vand is little seen,.and who Snows mue, and is little known," replied Boisbriant. " You ar~e the secret agent of ide Bienville," said Henri, With A smile. CHAPTER XV. A SnuRES OF UNXPECiTht INTERVIEWS. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] THE WHITE ROVER. 78 fHow knew you, young' man, 'that he had a s~eret agent!" asked Boisbriant. By'the shierest accident I have arrived at that iowledge; but from it source that never did and iever trill bettay you or your plans," returned' the Rover.' -" I 'have seen'de Bienville, and I have read the: writingyou sent him. You stated the truth-and nothing more," added Boisbriant. "' I thank you for yout'good"opinion. It pro- dices a"thrill of unspeakable pleasure to hear ote,iwho has had an opportunity of knowing the truth; speak' in any favor I" exclaimed Henri, in 'gratified tone.' ' "I have declared your itinocence in the pies- once of the governor; but I fear the abduction of the maidens, and" the fact that a'note pur- portingto be from you was fa nd, has seriously ahaken his faith in your 'integrity," added the agent.. "Alas, my friend, Iseem' destined to be con- tiually misunderstood," rejoined Henri. "You now propose, doubtless, to go on the, "{ il and rescne the maidens. Iwill not attempt to dissuade'you from the undertaking, for it is praisewodthyj ad right But you igay safely ekon me among your friends. While you are gone, I shall not be idle. While 'I serve my I dcof .tiy, I will also serve you. Lesage ie closely watched. - Let him do what he' 'there will be eyes ever upon him. No if in far away, there will still b-those erobservant of his actions. I hav me Y =fp.ung man, and it shall be used iis ur * ealiopportunity offers. The-slaven 1dRetiSnyour missive shall be arrested, t. getherwith several others. This step, I am in rges; il hold the rebellion among the blacks i11check, and dampen the ardor of Red-Shoe." hdhickaiaws Land Choctaws will'soon be i Welina sanguinary war," replied Henri. s1 e ';,jutlging from present appearances, a hst be the result, which will 'defer any' hostile movement on the part of the Chickasaws f~idom ine, and this will be favorable to the safetyf the colony." "You are'right, and you will have ample time reseie themaidens, or at least to learn what e rf e'i'ty liate been, before the blow 'is kc.L$The colony will then need the aid of, 6Wariand"influende, and I doubt not it will hiv both" _ lf; andif my life is needed to seal my ovefr my country, it aha'll be freely gien? 'said Hesiri, earnestly. " We must part now," added Boisbriant, "bat we shall meet again ; yea, more than once, and in places and under circumstances when least expected, perhaps. Bear up under adversity like a man; keep a bold heart in your bosom, and present a bold front to your enemies. Per- severance and virtue must triumph at last over all obstacles." "Before we part," said the Rover, earnestly, "may I ask if we have often met before ; if ever, where, and when ?", "All ingood time ; it matters not now. Lin- ger no longer here. Remember that your Helen is in captivity, and torn from you by the arts of a, villain. Follow her captors like a tireless hound. Prsue them with the cunning of a ser- pent, and a perseverance no toil can discourage, and no danger appal.", With these words Boisbriant waved his hand and walked away, and in a few seconds was out of sight. The Rover hastened back to the spot where he had left Pierre. When he reached the mar- gin of the river, he saw a canoe containing four persons approaching from the direction of New Orleans. Before it touched the shore, Henri recognized Madame Mablois, La Glorieuse, Ette Actal, and Ridelle. "'I am indeed happy to see you, Madame Ma- blois !" exclaimed the Rover, warmly embracing the Frenchwoman. " And you, also, fair daugh- ter of the Sun," he added, extending his hand to the princess. " My dear Henri," said Madame Mablois, "I have suffered much on your account: but I thank Heaven that I see you at liberty, and out of im- mediate danger." "And I must not forget to thank youand the princess for the liberty I enjoy. It is to you that .I am indebted for my freedom, as well as to the two gallant hearts who were the direct agents in my escape." Madame Mablois took Henri by the arm end drew him gently from his companions. ' You have known me from your child- hood, Henri," she said with feeling, "and you. know that I cherish for you a mother's regard. I know whither you are now going. For my' sake be careful of your own safety. Do not ex- pose yourself to unnecessary danger." "And why should I cling to life with such tenacity'" he answered. f -Has existence been so precious to me hitherto'that should *ish to: preserve . it so e.rrefully. Were I like many o't' ereit might be different. Remember, dear Ma- dame Mablois-you who have supplied the place of a mother to me with such fidelity-that I'am a nameless youth. I am called Henri Delcroix ; but why I was thus named,'I know not. Upon this bject I am daily growing more .sensitive. It gives me pain to reflect upon what I may pos- sibly be. Is it not in your power, my more than friend, to clear up this mystery? I.feel that it is; and I do most earnestly entreat of 'you to tell me the worst. Anything is better than this un- certainty ; even an humiliating truth' is prefera- ble to suspense so painful." "Wait yet a little longer, Henri. If .I know aught of your parentage, rest assured that I keep it from you for the best of reasons. You know me too well to imagine that I would withhold any intelligence which would be for:your inter- est. Try and feel that I am acting like a -rea- sonable and discreet friend, and anxiousto make you happy, and better your condition in life. This much I will say ; you need not be ashamed of the blood that circulates in your veins ; it would not disgrace a prince. Have faith in Heaven's justice, and in me. The night of your sorrow, is passing, and the sun of your prosperity and happiness is already rising; even now it trembles on the eastern verge." Mablois paused. Her bosom- swelled- with- pride. She grasped the Rover's arm, and spoke with thrilling earnestness. " Henri, you are not what you may have thought yourself to be. No, no ! You will yet be rankedwith the best blood of the land. Your proud and lofty spirit will yet rise to its proper place. As the sun of Lesage goes down, yours will go up towards the zenith. Be not despond- ing. In your attempts to save the fair and be- loved Helen from the fate to which a villain has doomed her, I again repeat be careful of your own life ; for you must live to triumph over all your enemies. Yes, you must, and I feel and know that you will." "Your words, dearest madame, inspire me with a new hope. My pulses beat with a newj life, my blood flows with a more genial warmth. Henceforth I will struggle manfully with my fate. I will try to be all that you can wish. Fear not foe me. All will be well." " Nobly poken, my brave boy. Now my heart beats more lightly than your own. Let us re- turn to our friends ; they wait for us." While ablois ,was speaking, the sound of horses' feet were heard, and in a momeflt twelve mounted warriors made their appearance. Henri and Pierre grasped their weapons, bu4 relinquished them again when they perceived that the new comers were a party of Natch' warriors. -j "What means this, La Glorieuse ?" asked the: Rover. " Those are some of our bravest warriors tht I sent for two days ago. If the White Rover wants them, they are ready to go on the trail and fight his enemies," replied the princess "This is kind, noble, generous La Glorieus_, I am indeed grateful. I will consult with n5i friends in regard to the matter." After some consultation with Pierre and IRl- delle, it was agreed'that they shouldset forwap' without the Indians ; and if nothing were heard - from them at the expiration of several days, the warriors might take the trail and follow. In this way, being well mounted, they might over- take them in season to be of much use. /Matters being thus arranged to the satisfaction of all parties, they took leave. of their kind friends the renegade set them across the river in the birchen canoe, and they started on the trail with a determined zeal which no obstacles could daunt. " It is as I had expected," observed the' Rover; "the trail tends towards the Sabine river, and the countryof the far-famed Camanches. I per ceive that there- is much danger and hardship before us. Not only shall we be obliged to cord tend with the subtle devices of Lesage, bit t6 dare the vengeance of the most formidable 69ol1 red nations." "I am willing to dare dangers ten times s imminent," returned Moran, firmly. "I am re- solved to penetrate to the very heart of the ene- mies' country in defence of innocence and beauty. y shudder to think of the sufferings of the poor girls. I cannot well restrain my im- patience." " Here is something," said Louis Ridelle to Henri, "which I found beneath the cypress; but I forgot to mention it before. It has been worn upon the dainty arm of one whose name I need not pronounce." "Helen's bracelet !" exclaimed the Rover. "'Give it to me,, friend Ridelle. I will wear it next my heart until she is again .restored to liberty." Henri pressed the golden band to his lips, and then placed it carefully in his bosom. " And here is something," observed Pierre, picking a small glove- from the ground, " which THE 1 'IIL4' RtVLR. I t f Y page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] TEE WHITE ROVER. Mu wil recognize, Monsieur Ridelle. It has een worn upon the dear hand of Adelaide, and Isolemnly protest that it shall -never leave my possession until I restore it Tnto its rightful 9wner." "With allies like you, I can scarcely fail to re. coyer my lost darling,",said Louis, with emotion. The trailbeingfresh,, the foresters had little qr no dificulty in following it. When. the ~adovs of night fell again, they were many es from New Orleans, in the boundless wil- ss, known but little save to Indian feet. "I am an old forester;, remarked $he father ofAdelaide, " an$ my better judgment tells me that;we must haltand rest. If we exert ourselves ta much to-daywe shall be less able to dis- cbargetheduties of the morrow. We taust not r get that along journey is before us, and that urs is a task that cannot be accomplished in wenty-four hours," "You.Are right," replied Pierre, ' though I feel as if my liibs would never tire, and my strength never fail. But reason admonishes me that we anyst act like men, and notlike children. Zw l1go and shoot a deer while you kindle a TheRover and Ridelle had -soon gathered a p-e of dry fagots. ,The former drew the ball ofi one.barrel of his rifle, and ignited the'com- _ tible:material by burning some powder in the 1ek.The pile was soon in ablaze, and the bright Sanies want hissing and darting up ~ into the thatt time gate abounded in that pait =,'the country, for the flowing stream of civiliza- tion had not then turned its powerful current in that direction, Before the expiration of half ai hour, the hunter had returned with the most delicate por- tions of a fat buck upon his shoulders. It was roasted at the roaring fire, and eaten in sil ke- as a duty,:and not as a pleasure. " Being the oldest of the party," said Ridelle, " though perhaps not the wisest and most expe- rienced, I hope to be pardoned for making a few suggestions for the general safety, and for the success of our undertaking. - I think it advisable that one of us should ever be on the watel, while the other two sleep. It seems to me thit we should commit a great and fatal error if i a all slept at once." " Your advice is timely, excellent," replied the Rover. " I feel that wemust indeed exercise a ceaseless vigilance-a sleepless watchfulness, in thus penetrating to the heart of an enemy's country." 'After some further conversation upon the sub- ject, it was unanimously resolved that they should watch by turns, during the night, until their undertaking was bought to a successful or an unsuccessful close. Henri and Pierre in- sisted upon discharging- this necessary duty un- assisted; but to this }proposition Ridelle would by no means agree. These preliminaries being satisfactorily ar. ranged, Ridelle and Pierre laid down in their blankets. The White Rover, withdrawing a few paces from the fire, with his rifle in his hand kept tireless watch over his companions. WinH the consent of the gentle reader, we will now follow the fortunes of the captive maidens. It was the night of the third day of their weary pilgrimage towards the country of the Camanches. The mesdemoiselles were alone in a small lodge, which had been prepared for them nightly, while the Indians kept watch without. "It seems strange to me," said Helen, "that we have been treated with so little rigor during our captivity. The savages are not wont to ex- hibit so much humanity. We have been per- mitted to rest for the greater portion of two nights. A lodge has been ereeted for us, and we have had the satisfaction of being entirely alone during the time allowed'us for sleep. Now there is certainly something unaccountable in all this." "I have'thought of the subject more than once," replied Adelaide, "and it still remains unexplained." "1Would it be unreasonable to suppose that Lesage had something to do with this transac- tion ?"-asked-Helen, seriously. "You reiterate my own thoughts, Helen," re- turned Adelaide. "Perhaps I wrong the cap- taim, but it does seem to me that my suspicions are not without foundation. It is very certain that Henri and Pierre have had no agency in our misfortunes." " I have not thought ill of them for a moment," responded Helen. "Our treatment is far too gentle," resumd Adelaide, "to correspond with my ideas of Xn4 dian character. I fear that they are but the agents of other minds." " Then may we shudder at the fate before us," slid Mademoiselle Helen. "Savages are some- times moved to mercy, but there are those who show none." Both of the mesdemoiselles paused, and were occupied with their own gloomy thoughts. Some deerskins, sewed together with thongs, hung up before the entrance to the lodge. Tihe r were put gently aside -at that, moinent, and a painted visage became visible. While with li$i left hand the intruder held aside the skins, he motioned themto silence with hit right. 'Ihe girls drew back in alarm. The intruder stppd into the lodge, and the skins fell back again. "Do not be alarmed," he said, ii a whisper, and in t e purest French. "I am your friend- I have come to save you, or 'perish in the attempt." "If-you have indeed come to saves tswe ow you a deep debt of gratitude," said Helen. " Hush, mademoiselle !" continued the srai- CHAPTER XVI. THE UNKNOWN DISINTERESTED HERO'S OFFER OF ASSISTANCE. L ,, / page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] THE WHITE ROVER. gert "A single word spoken above a whisper may cost me my life. The red fiends are sleep- ing on all sides of us. I have literally stepped over their bodies for the purpose of speaking a single word to you. Be discreet, mesdemoiselles, I entreat of you." The interior of the lodge was quite dark. The stranger's face could not be distinctly seen; and it was with difficulty that his low-whispered words could be beard and understood. But then he spoke of the danger he had incurred for their sakes, and expressed a determination to save them, they began to feel that a ray of light had at length fallen upon their darkened way. The stranger drew nearer,'and laid his finger gentle, yet warningly, upon Adelaide's arm, and resumed, in the same suppressed whispers: "Ihave hoverednear you for two days-wit- nessed your sufferings--your danger-your he- roic fortitude, .and have sworn to save you. But your savage captors are continually on the alert-. I have watched daily and nightly for an opportunity to speak to you-to bid you not degpi-but to bear up yet p little-longer under your sufferings, while I can plan and effect your aeTo-night-in this disguise, in order net, to ite immediate suspicions, providing, r =atul4be seen-I have braved all the peril of t=:" step, forithe purpose of breathing to you, q mesdemoiselle, a word- of hope. I have f ..! ed untilyourcaptors slept, and have step- ler;their sleeping,forms to enter this lodge." s 1thousand heartfelt thanks," said Helen. vt: e ask if you can tell us the object the ndianshave .in view, and what our 'y= l $ k ly tobe, providing we do not escape ?" ~stngersighed. u t me, fair maidens. My soul turns Sk; nel rad with horror from the contem- ,4y Fot at b ect dZ= you akn or can form any reasonable. ,uupon the subject, I implore you to =&hreservedly," replied Helen. r 'Y ould seem," whispered the stranger. ofte offs ~ "tohedrench settlers at Natchito- tw;Indian maidens of uncom- mabeautyand treated them with great indig- 1 awillrot shock your ears with the detaIls o e a it that when afew wek, 'loeofthegii-l p± ,aid aresenf th5slf, shamed and de- dn related the, o O tio - amanIhes. vowed yen- fea~noneKL4reuh.,Merkowiurrthese facts, you may justly suppose that your capture is an act of retaliation." "The saints preserve us from such a fate 1" exclaimed Helen, with a shudder of horror. "Most fervently I respond to the pr ," continued the intrepid stranger. " As far am concerned, I need no further incentive to action than that inspired by your sufferings, your youth, beauty, and heroism." "But could you not aid us more effectually by returning to New Orleans? You would have only to repeat the story of our captivity in order to raise the means of our deliverance. The gov- ernor would put you at the head of five hundred men, if need be, to follow us into the Indian country; men who would fight bravely, nor fear hardship." " You forget, fair mademoiselle," rejoined the unknown, "that the Camanches are as numerous- as the leaves . on the trees. They can bring five thousan warriors into the field, yea, more than that n mber. What then would a few sol- diers, unacquainted with wood-craft, do in the centre of su a powerful nation? Reflect, mad- emoiselle." " There is rnich reason in your statements, I confess, monsieur," replied Helen. " Your only hope of rescue," resumed the un-; 'Inown, "must be placed in the.daring and cun- ning of some practised woodsman, who can fol- low a trail, and is perfectly conversant with In- dian habits. Cunning can effect more for, you than strength ; yes, more than the governor's whole army. One thing more I must speak of in connection with this subject, To-night I saw the Indians. preparing, buffalo skins to wrap, about the horses' feet to, render the trail imper- ceptible, and baffle pursuit. With the precau-: tions which:they will undoubtedly take, it will defy the ingenuity of the keenest woodsman to trce you further. Were I to go back to New -Orleans, even I, experienced as I am in Indian, arts, might fail to follow you further than here. Remember that daily and nightly, during your weary pilgrimage, there is one, friendly heart near you,.laying plans for your deliverance. shall follow you untirin-ly, and rely, upon. it, I will leave a trail that others can follow, aundthat your friends will not fail to discover. So you see, mesdemoiselles, that'I shall be able to serve you ipome way... Bttitarry too long. Iwin ll attempt to visit you to- orrow night in, t4,ot ?manner, when we will try and devise sone me ne for yur escapelEHark IIthought I 1 !' THE WHIT ., s ;. _ . l A t ," f 5 Indian stirring without. This interview has al- -ready been protracted to a dangerous length. Adieu-fair captive-adieu." Helen followed him mechanically to the door of the lodge, raised the skins and looked out afteg*im, and saw him glide along with breath- less silence. The unconscious figures of several Camanches were asleep upon the ground in front of the lodge. She saw him pause, look cau- tiously around upon the sleepers, and then actu- ally step over their bodies and walk silently and swiftly away. His person was soon hidden from view by the trees. Helen still gazed aftet him, while her heart was agitated by various emo- tions ; but she saw only the wild-wood scenery, the long, sombre shadows of the trees, the pale moon, the twinkling stars, the blue skies, and the sleeping figures. ' . ' She let the skins fall back to tieir place, and stole back to the side of Adelaide, who had not moved from her seat. " What are you thinking of? Why so gloomy and silent ?" asked Helen, embracing her com- panion, tenderly. "I am thinking of many, many things, sweet friend, and I scarcely know what makes me so sad. Have you forgotten the stranger's story of the Indian maidens ?" said Adelaide, in reply. Helen was silent, but her fair person was con- vulsed with, horror ; and her companion was conscious of the nervous tremors that shook her frame at the mention of the Indian girls. " Adelaide," she said, recovering herself, " why is not this the hour of escape ! The savages are sleeping soundly. No watchful eyes save our Heavenly Father's are upon us. Why can we not leave this lodge and glide cautiously away in the deep, wild, forest, even as that stranger has done ?. What more favorable opportunity than this ?" " Your words are reasonable. Let us fly," replied Adelaide, arising hastily. "A singular thought occurs to me, Adelaide ! Why did not this generous, self-sacrificing, and fearless stranger urge us to fly with him imme- diately, and not have waited for a more favor- able opportunity? Does this not strike you as being very extraordinary'?" "It does ; but perhaps he waits for some friends to join him, or has some more safe and feasible plan of escape in his mind," answered Mademoi- selle Adelaide. " The explanation you offer is plausible, but d~es not wholly satisfy me. Dear friend, shall 'E ROVER. 77 we indeed attempt to escape, while our captors are sleeping ?" said Helen. Adelaide put aside the deerskins and'looked anxiously forth. The r9d men were still locked in slumber. " I think we might venture to try," she replied, stepping back to the side of Helen. " We cani but fail, and I know we cannot render our con- dition more deplorable. My mind is full of vague and fearful suspicions, also, that I have not yet expressed. I feel more than ever anxious to escape from these savage beings, if it be only to perish in the wilderness, of hunger, and thirst, and weariness. Is not any death preferable to that fate which is in reserve for us. They may follow us, it is true, but we are light of footgpnd we can along without scarcely bending dawn the grass, or disturbing the leaves. And then we can take precautions that will defy them to trace a trail so faint as that we will leave, in our flight. We will seek out the most impassable places. We will pursue our way along the ranges of hills, where the soil is hard and unyielding to steps like ours. We will not break a twig from the smallest bush; we will not roll a stoie from its place ; we will not displace the" moss upon the knolls, nor the sticks that lie -on the ground, In flying from a fate so dreadful, we shall leave a way as trackless as the flight, of the birds through the air." " Even so, Adelaide. God will not abandon us in the hour of trial," responded Helen. - "He will strengthen our limbs when they falter. He will fortify our hearts with courage'when about to despair. He will feed us when we are hungry, and give us water when we. are sinking with thirst. He clothes the lilies; He cares for the birds ; He watches over the innocent. I am ready. Let us walk forth softly as shadows, and if they wake not, there remains for us chance for liberty." " How I tremble," said Adelaide. " My heart beats like a bird trying to escape from his cave. Stop an instant-let me recover myself a little. Now I am calm. Lift the skins once more. Are they sleeping yet ?" " One has partly arisen," whispered Helen, trembling with excitement. " He yawns and sinks back again. The blessed virgin be praised ! He relapses into sleep. Let me collect ?nyself a little. Come, my dear Adelaide-tep softly- breathe gently--be courageon~-.-bear yourself firmly-now-now I" Helen had lifted the deerskins that covered page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78x THEWHI the lodge door, and made one timid step for- ward, when one ofbthe Camanche warriors turned $ aver, moaned, uttered some incoherent words, arose upon his elbow, and finally to a sitting posture. The captives' retreated precipitately into the lodge, and fell weeping intoeach other's arms;- With emotions of bitter disappointment no pen can describe. In a short time Adelaide looked cautiously forth again. The savage had not resumed the 'recumbent position, but'was still sitting upright. "We must abandon the attempt for to-night," said our heroine, with a sigh. " It were not best to make an abortive trial, for the consequences would be that weshould be more closely watched, an,. erhaps bound at night; a precaution which oitd. preclude the possibility of. a future Attempt." when the first keen pangs of disappointment had passed (for the pangs of baffled hope are indeed poignant), Helen strove by every effort in her power to appear outwardly calm, in order $o revive the sinking spirits of her companion. She wiped away her tears, and tried to speak cheerfully of the future, addin , in conclusion, A hat the intrepid stranger who had visited the s at the risk of ,his life, mightultimately offset their liberation, jI do not wish," replied Mademoiselle Ade- laide, "to give you needless cause of fear, but I W_11tell you that I have little confidence in this I, TE ROVER. stranger. Possibly it is an act of cruelty to make such a statement, but I am compelled by my anxiatypospeak my thoughts freely., Had I full confidence in this unknown, I should not have been so eager to escape from our thraldom. He spoke in whispers, yet I am well assured that I have heard his voice somewhere, but where, I cannot now remember." " Let us not wrong him, my friend, but ob- serve him well, if another opportunity should present. There were times while he was speak- ing when his voice seemed familiar, even to me. I shall try to think of him as a friend, for he certainly spoke feelingly, and with apparent sin- cerity," answered our heroine. "But there are several things to be explained in relation to him," resumed Adelaide. "How did he'arrive at a knowledge of our misfortunes ? Why does he feel such an interest in unknown maidens, that he should expose his life to save them ? A lover, a father, or a brother might have ventured among the savages to rescue a beloved object;. but, believe me, very few stran- gers would do so. I doubt whether this has not all been preconcerted, and this hero comes by previous agreement." " 0, Adelaide !" exclaimed Helen: " I am not willing to believe that such depravity exists. Let us not think of it. Try and sleep, that we may be ready for any opportunity that may be presented for escape." . -; I THE captives laid their weary limbs upon the rude couch prepared for them by their captors, and strove to compose their minds to sleep. Just as they had sunk into an unquiet slumber, they were aroused by the movements of the Ca- manches preparing to resume their wanderings. The most delicate portions of the buffalo, very well roasted, were 'set before them, of which they partook sparingly. " The Indians seem to be very busy. What are they doing ?" asked Helen. " They are wrapping portions of buffalo skin upon the horses' feet, in the manner predicted by the unknown," returned Adelaide. " An ingenious device. Let us exert ourselves more than ever to leave some signs to indicate whither our wanderings tend. I will tear my handkerchief into small pieces, and watch for opportunities to drop them as we ride forward," said Helen. The maidens were soon- ordered to mount The party moved on, but in a different order- in single file-the captives occupying'the centre of the cavalcade. Both watched with much in- terest to observe the effect of the new precaution which had been taken, viz: that of wrapping the horses' hoofs in- buffalo . skins. They remarked with much sorrow that the experiment subserved well the purpose of their captors, as they now travelled over the firmest ground they could find, and left but faint traces to mark the'4way they had passed over. Helen succeeded in dropping several; pieces of her handkerchief without being noticed. At length the quick eyes of one of the Camanches detected the design. With true Indian addres, he slid down nearly under his horse's flanks, and picked up the piece which Belen had dropped, without dismounting. He shook his head stern- ly, and threatened her with death if she repeated the offence. Whether this menace was seriously made, o not, it terrified the maidens not a little, and they desisted from..any further attempts of that kind at that time. They did not journey so rapidly as' on the previous days, on account of the extraordinary precautions which they were continually ob'serv. ing to baffle pursuit. On one occasiontliey travelled several miles in tlhe bed of a bryoo, the bottom of which was covered with small nie, where, of course, no trace of a horse tek could be left. The hearts of the unfortunate girls grew hopeless and despairing whe they beheld such unusual caution. Theygaedinto each other's faces in mute and wordless grief. It was some relief to find themselves alone again when they.had encamped for the-night: Though CHAPTER XVII. JOURNEY RESUMED-THE UNKNOWN ONCE ,MORE, NOW BETTEn KNOWN. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 THE WHIT both felt the need of rest, neither could sleep. Innumerable wild conjectures and undefinable fears kept them wakeful. Did they lose their Consciousness for a single instant, some dreadful phantom suddenly arose before them and broke the momentary spell. Though they were in doubt concerning the- stranger, they could not banish the frightful tale he had told them con- cerning the Indian maidens. If that unpleasant subject left their minds, it was to give place to others quite as dreadful. Would the stranger visit them again that night? they asked over and over again. The eyes of both were turned towards the entrance of the lodge ; the deerskins were thrust aside gently as on th previous night; and the face of the unknown was revealed. Tile moon shone brightly, and her silver beams fell full up- on his features. During the moment of hesita- ion which followed, both the captives scanned his, fafe with intense eagerness, and recognized the features of Hubert, the king's commissary. But his strange discovery produced different emotions in the bosoms of the mesdemoiselles. Adelaise could with difficulty repress a cry of hermr,'while Helen experienced equal difficulty nreprssimg a cry of joy. "If you have recognized him," whispered Ad- laide, "eep the secret to yourself." Theking's commissary was in the lodge. demoiselles," he whispered, "gentle Anes4.moiselles, awake ; up, and let us away; t lere.ja;not a moment to be lost I" 4len arose quickly from the recumbent posi- ti on but=Adelaide with less alacrity. hat do-yousay?".asked our heroine. "The moment of escape has come-up--hur- ry leus; fly." But;how a' asked Adelaide, in a faint and aiost inaudible whisper. "The Camanches are buried in deepest slum- #r9s.,We wlU glide from the lodge like spectres o thenight-silently, cautiously, breathlessly, and, thankG94 hopefdly 1" replied Hubert. "No !no I letus stay!" ,whispered Adelaide .,Helen's ear;;but Helen was toq much excited by the prospect of'immediate escape to fully _ pretendd her meaning.; nordid she under. 0 4 hr when she bade her .not divulge the se- i hsie ad recognized the stranger. ° h d # seen the commissary many times $t Jieyceliengy, tho governor; but sheknew ~thts~$~hisisaracter, and now regarded him y en s-tfniend which he/ professed to be. I TE ROVER. " We are ready to go," said Helen. '"Come Adelaide, give me your hand-don't tremble so -be firm, and the danger will soon be passed." "Silently, silently, mesdemoiselles; follow me -step lightly," said Hubert, opening the door of the lodge. Helen had grasped Adelaide's hand and now drew her along after the commissary. "Back, girls ! back I" whispered the latter, re- treating with alarming precipitation to the ex- treme part of the lodge. " Go and look cautiously out," said the com- missary to Helen, apparently much agitated. Our fair heroine obeyed, and perceived to her horror that one of the savages had arisen from the ground, and was heaping together the de- caying brands of the fire. She repeated the un- welcome intelligence to Hubert, who seemed the picture of dismay. " Discovery, to me, would be certain death," he said; "but the consciousness that I should perish in the cause of youth and beauty, would serve to soften down the last moments of life, and shed a sweet and heavenly light on the opening scenes of the world to come. Be good' enough to look again, mademoiselle." When our heroine looked forth again, the fire, once more revived by the addition of fresh fuel, was sending up a bright flame. The Indian produced his pipe, refilled it slowly, lit it, and commenced smoking. Helen watched his move. ments with a feeling of anxiety and impatience to be appreciated only by those in a similar sit- uation. The commissary grasped the trembling hand of Adelaide, and, assured her that all might yet be well-that he possibly might yet be spared to be instrumental in their liberation. But Ade- laide withdrew her hand and trembled more violently.- Helen maintained her position near the door, The Camanehe, reclining upon his elbow, with his feet thrust to the fire, watched the stars, and smoked his pipe calmly. His fixed andmedita- tive gaze seemed to indicate that he was think- ing of the happy hunting grounds and the shadowy people who -live :there and pursue shadowy game. The night was beautifully serene. The moon never appeared to ,move more softly through the pathless skies, or to look more placidly down upon the earth. The stars hadcaught the samce delightful mood, and shed their; quiet beauty upon ithe night. Nowinds set the.vergntleave THE WHIT in motion, or sighed through the branches of the pine rand sycamore. "How sweet to be at liberty, and with Henri, at such an hour as this," thought Helen. The reflection was but natural, yet by contrast it served to heighten her present dreariness. Most anxiously did she watch the savage, fearing lest he should possibly arise, approach the lodge and look in, when the life of the com- missary would instantly be sacrificed. She ap- prehended also, that others might awaken and follow his example, and so cut off all hope of Hubert and escape. For 'three quarters of an hour the Camanche enjoyed his pipe, which seemed an age to Helen. At length he threw out th'e puffs of snioke with less frequency, and with decreasing interest. The fire died away in the bowl of his pipe, and finally went quite out; the savage closed his eyes, began to nod-roused up-nodded again-the pipe dropped from his mouth, and he fell back upon the earth com- I pletely overpowered by sleep. Helen breathedmore freely-watched him a moment longer, and then reported to the com- missary. " The favorable hour has passed," sighed Hu; bert. "Indians never sleep soundly after this time. I am forced, by dire necessity, to leave you till a more propitious moment. I doubt even, whether I can depart without raising an alarm. And if Ishould never see you again- that is, should aught unfortunate befall me this night-remember that I-have .done my best to save you; I ask no more than this.' Once more, sweet mesdemoiselles, adieu." the commissary ooked cautiously out into the open air-waved his hand, and the next mo- ment the captives were alone. Suddenly there was a deafening cry without. Helen sprang to the entrance of the lodge and looked after the commissary. She saw him run- ning swiftly, pursued by two tall savages; then she heard the report of fire-arms, saw Hubert fall, recover his feet and disappear in the forest, still followed by the Camanches. " O, Adelaide !" shrieked Helen, "he is wound- ed--he is down-no, he is up again-he rises, is lost to view in the woods !" "9Give yourself no une asiness on his account,' cried Adelaide, drawing Helen into the lodge. "Wghat if he should be slain in attempting to save us !" exclaimed Helen. 1Be calm, dear Helen. Monsier r Hubert is a villain," said Adelaide, indignantly. 'E ROVER. 81 "No !" said Helen, gazing into the pale face of her friend in unutterable astonishment. " He is the friend and companion of Lesage- the cause of all our misfortunes," replied Ade- laide. " O, this is cruel, Adelaide !" exclaimed Helen. "Cruel indeed! My sufferings for the last hour you cannot imagine. Disgust, indignation and fear have held me in their power by turns during his stay. I thought that time had ceased to go onward, and that he would never leave us," added. Adelaide. " Has he ever spoken to you, Adelaide ?" ask- ed Helen, much perplexed. " Often, often ! He has praised my beauty- afflrmed that he loved me-that he could not exist without me." "And you-" "Rejected him with contempt, for I read his purpose well." "What then, Adelaide ?" " He had the meanness and audacity to threaten." " The friend of Lesage ! Just Heaven ! can this be true ?" exclaimed Helen. " True as inspiration itself," replied Adelaide, firmly. " I warned you, Helen, while he was here." "I know you did, and I could not well com- prehend your meaning. But the Indians fired at him; how is that ?" asked our heroine. " All preconcerted, no doubt, Helen.. The Indians are evidently in his employ, and he did not intend that we should escape. He wishes to play the daring and generous hero, in order tp make an impression in his favor." "Perhaps you are right," responded , elen. "I now remember of having. seen him with Le- sage on several occasions ; and in fact on tIe day of our abduction. The truth dawns upon me, Adelaide ; I see the black -villany of the whole plot." After some further conversation in relation to their unhappy situation, the captives completely exhausted, both in body and mind, sank ito a profound sleep, and obtained the - most refresh- ing rest they experienced during their captivity. They resumed their journey on the following day in the same manner, and with the eme precautions that had marked the preceding one. But Hubert did not make his appearance on the ensuing night ; neither did het on the night after ; which circumstance surprited the cap, tives not a little, and was by no mans regretted. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] I CAPITER XV II TIM TRAL . _F t threeis t te winters idowed the trail thitifi t &di~btyg btit on the fourth they f fd~ e ae balled. Adodge was evidently erected here," re- i tked he over. "By scraping away the eats carefully, with m hand, I fizd Where the 1dge~pides were diVen dawn."' -'_i Wingulhrinstancc of humanity in the S_ anatidie4 to allow them the favor of a lodge," thihk the trail tends ,in this direction," ob- *e RedI dellegas he inspected the ground closely. d, T°"=e sone grass bent down, and the seli 4 idened by horses' feet. Here i r gan," answered Ridelle- Icevered the horses' feet with e n over. Ip a y with hie face lose to the rouad ti et ies upon their knee applied t rs t the task of finding the aitil r h te Were af fatlt. Th y ,id go forward i t= sposed to take iirnl course towards the 00 tes. When one, more oanpanloous, found the trail, t r 5e)ai e t h e e a t k n o w r to the others, as they were hot tO ptX a gI'eait di-5 Lance between each other. Having come to this mutual indefstanding, they proceeded to art in accordance with'the same. In a few minutes otir hero was aone. Well acqttainted with Indian stratageas and habits, he directed his footsteps toWardS a long ridge of' low hills on his right. He had gone forward but a short time after reaching the highlands, when to his joy he discovered a small object fluttering upon the ground. He stooped and secured it, It proved, as the reader has already anticipated, a portion of Helen's handkerchief, Which she had dropped to guide the steps of those Who might attempt her rescue. It was of the finest muslin, and the Rover would have easily 'recognized it perhaps, even had he not seen the initials of' the owner's nane upon it. We hope the Indulgent reader will not be dis- posed to smile, when we assert that-Henri press- ed the precious fragment to his lips ; for it was indeed precious to hita, not only on account of' its having been in the possession of the mladen dearest to his'heart, blt because It would serve to direct his footsteps towards her. While the Rover stood gaziit at the bltof stiff, he heard a sound near him, and uponlook- iug up, beheld, greatly to-his astotdshment d" shoe, the Chickasaw chief., THE WHITE "iDo my eyes deceive me ?" exclaimed Henri. " You see me, my white brother," said Red- Shoe, laconically. " And why have you followed us ?" asked the R-, (r. "I saw the daughter of the Sun," replied the chief. " She told me what had happened to the pale maidens, and how the White Rover was in trouble, by means of Chef Menteur. I tightened my belt, took my rifle, and followed the trail." "Generous chieftain ! you are ,indeed my friend. I feel that I can never repay this noble disinterestedness," exclaimed Henri. " And what of the war with the Choctaws ?" he'added. immediately. "1There will be no fighting with them at pres- ent. We shall be able to punish Chef Menteur before war breaks out with the Choctaws," re- plied Red-Shoe. Henri now called loudly to his companions. They soon found him, much pleased to learn that their party had been, strengthened by the addition of such a noble ally. By the aid of Red-Shoe they went forward much more rapidly, for he was very acute in discerning Indian signs. They were enabled to discover the precise spot where they took to the bed of the brook, and the place where they left it; and several fragments of the handkerchief which had been dropped by the captives, were also found. The day passed without any further incident worthy of note. At night they encamped as usual. Not feeling inclined to sleep, Henri left his comrades, and walking some fifty rods from the encampment, seated himself upon the trunk of a fallen tree, upon the summit of a small hill. With so many things to think of, he was soon lost in the mazes of his own thoughts. We need not tell the reader of what he thought, -for he' - will arrive at that by a natural inference. It may well be supposed that at that time, the beauties of starlight, and moonlight, had but few attractions for the Rover. The sound of horses' feet -approaching at a leisure pace caused him to look anxiously around. A single horseman was advancing ; but whether he was a savage or a white man, Henri at first was at a loss to know; nor was he fully satis-' fled on this point until be was addressed. "A timely meeting," said the horseman. "We have met before, and recently, if I re- member rightly," replied Henri, much more sur- prised than when he had been joined by Red- Shoe. ROVER. 83 "Yes," answered Bdisbriant, dismounting. "I am the same you refer to, doubtless. You are on the trail, I perceive. What luck ?" " We have followed the trail but too literally--= done nothing else-found nothing else," replied the Rover. "Ah, well-keep up good courage. Perse- verance accomplishes wonders, sometimes," said Boisbriant. am greatly astonished at this meeting,' returned Henri. " May I aslk what brings you here ?" " Certainly-my horse brought me," rejoined Boisbriant. " Very true," said the Rover, with a smile. " May I.presume to ask your object in allowing yourself to be brought here by your horse ?" " A good, a commendable one, I hope, Mon- sieur Delcroix," rejoined the secret agent. "2I feel an interest 'in the fate of these maidens. Not only dlo I confess a deep solicitude in regard to the fate of the captives, but also a-strong de- sire to unmask as great a villain as, ever walked upon the face of the wide earth. There are many other-rhen that Lesage might deceive and evade, but me he can neither deceive nor evade, I sympathize with you, young man, in your sufferings." I am very, very grateful," replied the Rover, impressively. "You perceive, Delcroix, that the freshness of youth and the fire of early manhood with me have passed ; from these I have glided by gra- dations into the maturity of life. -My hairs are not yet plentifully sprinkled with gray, but they should be, for I have suffered. Look at me," Henri. I have also felt the happiness of recip- 'rocated love. But many years have elapsed since I last heard the voice of Irene." " You were disappointed, then ?" asked Henri, earnestly. "Cruelly, sadly disappointed I' exclaimed Boisbriant. " She was forced to wed another, I suppose," remarked the Rover, much interested. "No; it was not.that. -Irene became iny wife -loving and beloved. Let me sit down here be- side you, and IRill tell you something about it; for the calm beauties of-this night stem to recall it all to memory. Yes, I wedded the maiden'of mny choice-a fari -a noble, aid sweet temnrtrd girl.. That was. twenty years lago, anid wa twenty years old on the day of our marriage Ir - I *- page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] THE WHITE ROVER. was not at that period rich, but possessed of a competence."It was expensive living in Paris in the style I wished. In an evil moment I ac. eepted an office in the infant colony on the banks of the Mississippi, pleased with the thought that I should acquire a fortune for my wife and child. " Thousand idle tales were then afloat in re- gard to the'facility of amassing riches in this country, not one of which could be considered true, or ought to have been thus considered. Like a; silly fish I swallowed the gilded bait. Irene was delighted at the idea of visiting a new country, whose breezes were balm; whose sunshine was glory; whose forests were orange trees; whose -stones were gold; whose sands W0e6,diamonds ; whose springs were fountains of immortal youth. We planned cottages, man- sions, summer-houses, arbors, grounds, gardens, andi .know not what, to grace our imaginary paradise., "sy little daughter was a year ol when we left the shores of France. After a'short and pleasant:passage we reached the New World. jsawkthe gaping mouth of a muddy river, whose haWks Mere overgrown with dank weeds, in T." iehiayhiddenfrightfulmonsters/who delight- s' .s=swallow men and women at a mouthful. ftold pt e it was the Mississippi river, that atered the Eden Iwas seeking.- I stared at the . like; one awakening from some pleasant k';as; he stroked his beard and smiled. 'afIs a sweet place,' said the captain. aye you b en here often V .I asked. O twice before,' h answered. "What kindof- monsters are those rolling solazily among those dank weeds in the mud =yonder ',Wby, bless your heart, sir, they are nothing bualligators3' What ao they subsist upon ?' I asked. s4" Iheyused to live upon Indians, but now feed principally upon Frenchmen. They rant at all ,hard sto suit. They'll take any- thing that comes along-pick up a little boy or ;irL' ngnd then, ord. fullgrown woman of any color; otseize upon men while bathing. One, a ge sued manmakes just two bites.' eg y just as I tell you, monsieur.' .lfetly welcome? ~" teir conversation with:.tbe captain, I s}R b'=tttha Indians were.also greatly to be s cliintwg murders were frequetin the colony. The spell of my delightful dream was- broken. I felt sad at heart, and one of those horrible presentiments of coming evil crept through every fibre of my brain, and made me stagger with the dread of something that I knew nothing about. " De Iberville brother of the governor, and an old acquaintance, met me at Biloxi. He strove to infuse new life and courage into my heart, but it was easy to see that he felt sad himself. Something was evidently weighing heavily upon his spirits. Iberville was a noble fellow ; brave, generous, and high-souled; but there was some singular mystery connected with his stay in the colony. ,It was some love affair, which I could never fully fathom. I entered upon my duties with what zeal I could, under the circumstances. " Irene bore up finely under the shock which we had both received in relation to the new country. She even affected to be pleased with her condition; but I knew better. One morning I left my new home with Iberville, to visit a small party of emigrants, who had settled upon the Mississippi river. I kissed Irene and' my little daughter gaily, telling them I should soon return. I, observed that Irene looked paler than usual, and held my hand longer in hers than she was wont, when she said adieu." - Boisbriant 'paused at'this stage of his narra- tive, overcome by his emotions. " When I returned," he resumed, " I had no wife, no child, no home. I found my darling wife near the river's bank, foully murdered by the Indians-and scalped-robbed of her long, beautiful hair, of which I had been so proud. The body of my daughter could not be found; but some of its clothes. were discovered in the river, lodged among the weeds. Its fate was but too evident; it had been thrown into the water ! My fintic grief I will not dwell upon. The cruelty of this blow I will leave wholly to your imagination. I felt like a crushed and broken-hearted man, and resolved to return to France. I shall not soon forget an incident which transpired previous to my putting this resolve into execution. It was a light, placid night like this. Iberville and myself were walk- ing together. "'Did you ever have a presentiment V he asked, with a smile.' " I replied that I hadone when I first saw the mouth of the Mississippi river. "'I have a presentiment now,' said Iberville.' "' And what is it ' I asked. S. THE WHI 'c'Death !' he replied softly, and with an earnestness I shall never forget. "' I have observed that something unpleasant has been preying upon your mind for a long - time,' I added. "'It is so, my friend. My sorrow is a secret which must perish with me,' he replied, mourn- fully. It is a love-secret, I presume,' I replied. "'I acknowledge it; I will tell you this much and no more: I have a wife and child,' he said, earnestly. "' Where ?' I exclaimed. "That I may not tell you. There are many and powerful reasons why they are not with me ; but it was my destiny that this should be, and I have submitted. Keep my secret, Bois- briant.' I promised to do this. "'She's a lovely girl, and is content to be my wife under any circumstances ;.for she loves me,' added Iberville. "'And does de Bienville, your brother, know aught of this ' I asked. "'Nothing definitely. He only knows that my affections are placed upon some object; but who she is, and where she is, he does not know, and has too much delicacy to ask what he is quite sure I do not wish him to know.' "' I can conceive of no reasons sufficiently powerful to induce you to keep the facts you have communicated a secret,' I remarked. "'My dear Boisbriant, there might possibly be many reasons for pursuing such a course. It might even be done to secure a fortune-a vast fortune-to make my child the inheritor 'of wealth, and a name, perhaps. Can you-not con- ceive of something of that kind ?' "'Certainly,' I replied; 'such things have - happened more than once or twice. -.But a noble name your child will assuredly have, if it bear the name of Iberville.' ' "'But a noble name without fortune is noth- ing worth, and serves only to bring its=owner into contempt' " Iberville paused, and with folded arms gazed at the waters of the Mississippi. I heard the twang of a bow-string, and a low groan from Iberville. I looked towards him, and saw an Indian shaft deep buried in his bosom. 'He fell back1into my arms-looked pleasantly into my face, despite the torture of his wound, smiled sweetly, and expired. And thus passed the no- blest spirit that ever exerted an influence upon the fortunes of Louisiana. The news of his 6 TE ROVER. death cast a gloom, over the colony, for hW manly conduct from first to last had ei'dehtit him to etery one. I can even now recall tthe form of de Bienville, kneeling by that aiiuliing corpse. I have seen many A stoni heart liake8 with grief; many a daring eye wll with tda; but I never saw grief like his; for'they had loved' like David and Jonathan, until the twain°a$' become as the soul of one man." Boisbriant ceased. " Speak on ! speak on I" exclaimed Henri. "I went back to Paris, and after the lapse dN a few years returned again to the colony, dr}WW back to the scene of my sufferings 'bg so n- strange impulse ; perchance I wished to be nii the grave of Irene. I have done," added B briant, sadly. "Your relation has interested sie desi-y said Henri. "No doubt ; true hearts always feel anhis in the unfortunate. And "now, mybra you shall hear something still more inter'4, for I perceive that your mind is in a eimier ') than usual,and you can hear me less inipatiently?' "Go on, if you please," said the Rover.' " What I have to communicate pe, pa i captive maidens, and Hube-t, the king }e ui- missary." " The commissary!i" exclaimed Henri. "I have discovered the important fact that he is even now with the captives." " Impossible !" cried the Rover. " Not at all. I will explain. The comenissary is the accomplice of Lesage. The motives which actuate him refer wholly to Adelaide; while those which stimulate Lesage have reference to Helen. The Camanches are employed by both the scoundrels. Hubert follows them for the, purpose of playing the hero. He has formed the nolfle resolution to aid the mesdemoiselles-to escape from the Indians, and thus acquire their confidence. He imagines that by taking this course, with Adelaide under his protection, filled with the idea that he is a daring and generous benefactor, he shall be able to make an impies- sion on her heart, and thus ultimately effect his base purpose." " The villain !" said Henri. "I have followed the party on horseback, and being well acquainted with the country of the Camanches, I overtook them on the second day of their journey, and have dogged them e'vr since. The commissary, dressed and mounted like an Indian, follows them at a safe distance, , I page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] THE WHITE ROVER. p' estaking long detours to mislead those w agge has good reason to suppose. will at- (pygo follow. At night he has interviews with b gian allies, and instructsthem in the part tey ege to act. He has twice stolen into the Idrang the night time, in the character of a nI ll pd deliverer, ready to sell his life to save t gf irgaptivecs. , "I have watched alb these proceedings with feelings of indignation scarcely to be repressed and kt within- bounds. Having learned all t ould beof any avail, and being unable to geo ishsix Camanches and a white man, I I $4den back with hot haste to find you. le found you here apparently so calm and t; pu f$ul, it carried me, back to other days. You made me think of Iberville on the night o ~leg, cand I could not refrain fr m Vo you of the past, before relating these do not fret and fume so. Be e :are on the high road to success. =earcely fail to effect the object we so esireto attain." i .#ou not suppose," asked Henri, as they S o 'seek Piere and 1 i4elle, "that Lesage f +yon the way to join Hubert V" y T'he ,ogues have met' by this time; u w 11 surprise them, my lad-surprise .r d'.f i V " And punish such high-handed villany as it deserves. Let us not lose an instant, monsieur, but follow the - scoundrels immediately. I can- not rest while such a scheme of consummate villany is being enacted. I desire nothing more earnestly than to stand face to face with that commissary. Hero indeed.!, If my hands were -once upon him, he would never wish to play the heroic benefactor again during his life." Boisbriant and Pierre Moran met like old friends. The strange news which the former had communicated to Henri, was now repeated. The hunter and Ridele listened with fierce and scowling brows. "Lead the way," said Moran, huskily, "lead the way, and we'll follow." "It is well spoken,"- added Ridelle. "Let us press forward to thwart this atrocious wicked- ness." - " orward-forward-upon the trail-no rest -no s , until the maidens are free !" 'ed Henri:. " I am ready, good friends. This is the way, and may Heaven speed us I" said Boisbriant. With dark and threatening visages, and minds firmly fixed upon vengeance, the foresters fol- lowed Boisbriant. CllAPTER XiX. A MEETING-THE oSAPE. SEVERAL days had elapsed site the disap- pearance of the mesdemoisdlles. The night had already set in.- Two persons were sitting upon the west bank of the Sabine River. " You have followed sooner than I had ex- pected, captain," said one. "I found it was necessary no time should be lost, Monsieur Hubert," replied the captain. " The affair is creating quite an excitement at New Orleans; for the girls are highly esteemed there. "I am suspected, notwithstanding all our cunning. In fact I met that fire-eater, my evil genius, and he accnsed me of the abduction of the maidens, without stopping to mince mat- ters. ,I owe him another debt, and I will be sure to pay him." "Did he do you any personal violence l" ask- ed Hubert- " I barely escape with my life." " Why did you not run him through with your ,word, captain ?" " Mon Dieu !" I attempted to, but he was more than a match for me with his tomahawk. He broke my sword at the hilt, tand then benevo- lently spared my life for a greater punishment than that of being genteelly tomahawked" "For which you thanked him." "For which I fired my pistol at his head, rNo sieur-Hubert." _ "Did you hit him V' " Hit him ? no! he was not born to be hitibUt to live to be my ruin. The fates protect hitn, I believe. Now tell me how- you speed with Ade- laide. Have you played the hero with success ' "Admirably, admirably,- my .boy! .I har risked my precious life twice for the sweet m t# demoiselles-visited them by moonlight-4a~l them hope-swore to, save them, or die -en attempt-hinted at the danger I ineur ed;f their pretty sakes-and of dying in averyhappy and contented frame of mind while consiousif such a high purpose. We attempted to fly-the Indians didn't rest well-one got up-smoked pipe-looked at the stars and moon-frightened us-girls trembled-gave myself up for lost-.- favorable hour passed-left them with melia.. choly forebodings-Indiahs were aroused-pur- sued me-fired guns-fell-ras supposed to be wounded-up and ran-and here I am alive yet." " Capital! grand! sublime!1 go on, Hubesr" " To-bightliave fixed on as thehappy pe- riod of their escape from Indian thraldgm.,The Camanches will sleep soundly as death itself- nothing but the last trumpet can'wake them.- I shall pray earnestly thatHeavenwill, prots 'youth, innocence and beauty---grasp sy ghqe sword-be pale, but firm-- lea&he fair tblerp " ; page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] $$ THE WHITE ROVER. firth-walk over the savages as though they were logs of wood-gain the forest-breathe more freely-the girls pant with excitement--- you are near-take Helen-I take Adelaide--all right-nobody's business-sweet mesdemoiselles ..Ah I Lesage I" "Fair, but proud Helen, you shall yet be won !" exclaimed the captain, triumphantly. " You scorned me once, yea, twice ; but now, haughty beauty, the power is mine. And I shall crush and humiliate, both in one-the peerless Helen, the fire-eating Rover Sccre Dieu! but will it not crush his proud spirit !" Lesage rubbed his hands and chuckled over' his prospective triumph. In his diabolical mal- ice, he resembled a fiend from the bottomless pit, more than a man. " We will pay back the scorn they have heaped upon us at different times," added Hubert. ' IDearest Adelaide-sweet charmer-I come, I come-a dainty piece indeed ! But I am; wild with impatience," continued the commissary, 'pith a theatrical air. "'T is time, captain. The moon rides high in the heavens-the-hour has Come.' Now shall we reap our reward for all our dangers-and-and-rascalities," resumed Hhiettr "Await me here. Inhalf anihour Iwill rejoin you with the charming mesdemoiselles." aP-ie commissary waitedjor no further reply A: hurried away. Hubert walked rapidly, and hiVlaek heart throbbed with wild and unhal- 1*e&foy. yw* * ** * * It' Reteand Adelaide stood beside the entrance lothldge. you- think they are really sleeping ?' i~ieen. - L r I nr4 -dy do. Their respirdtion is deep ni4 egulariand they lie very quietly," answered t, Other.' "Ateygustill firi-shalliwe try ?" continued ' naEfirm, and we will try," said Adelaide. .iGti e.iae your hahd,Adelaide-I am ready- M fk bith pass out'at the shme moment-softly " -softly." . Ih twb girl, tightly grasping each other's hMfds tolele frofn 'the lodge. °They stepped l l.namong the=steeping braves, scarcely dar- :id tNhthe, and tre nbling excessively. In a rsinrzBnlit they had passed the dangerous vicinity, atI'eif "fai y figures were moving rapidly didgitie oi-est. " M'rond f sight of the lodge-we shall ~oon be far away," said Helen. " Heaven be praised !" exclaimed Adelaide. "Let me recover my breath a little. How my heart palpitates. Now we willrun." " This is indeedafortunate-blessed-providen- tial !" cried a voice. The maidens looked at each other in mute despair ; for'it was the com- missary who had spoken. "It shall be my proud and happy privilege to conduct you to your friends, unfortunate maid- -ens," he added. " There are horses near at hand. Others of your good friends have joined me ; and two of them I think you will not be dis- pleased to see. This way-a few rods down to- wards the valley-hurry, mesdemoiselles-no time to lose-Indians don't sleep sound-may wake up-follow-kill us all." Taking-Adelaide by the arm he gently urged her onward, and Helen followed, holding her by the hand she had not relinquished since she left the lodge. For a few moments the commissary hurried them along. They did not speak, nor struggle,nor complain, nor acknowledge that they suspected that all was not right : they had no power to do so ; they were bewildered and as- tounded by the sudden overturning of their hopes. Hubert at length ceased to urge the captives onward. He stopped, and a man joined him instantly. The commissary pointed to Helen with a significant smile. " Sweet Mademoiselle Helen !" exclaimed Lesage, seizing the hand of our heroine. Helen shrieked with horror, and drew it from him. im- mediately. Imagine, if you can," added. Lesage, "the, joy that I feel in knowing that I have assisted in your escape from a 'thraldom so dreadful-so cruel-so hopeless, so-" " Cease to dissemble longer," replied Helen, recovering her self-possession somewhat. "Lay off the mask, and show yourself the despicable villain that you are. And you, sir," turning to the commissary, " can follow his example. We know you for a vile hypocrite-a smooth-tongued ruffian---a mean-spirited coward-a double-deal- ing knave--a wretched impostor, unfit to breathe the air of heaven." 'A-fair beginning, truly," said Hubert,'abashed in spite of all his effrontery. "Fair, indeed !"'rejoined Lesage, contemptu- ously.' Helen Lerowe," he added, with a wicked smile of triumph upon his lips; "the time when you could scorn and insult me is past. I dtm no longer a suitor, to kneel and use honeyed woren THE WHITE ROV R No I nol that period is gone by. It is now you turn to sue and supplicate. There are mango many rough, dismal miles of wilderness betwee you and your home. No friend can start u from the ground to save you; no hand can wrest you from my grasp. I will, and do, throw o the mask.. Know that you are in my power an can expect no mercy. You love the man I hat with intense hatred. Were it no more than t punish, crush, humiliate him, you should not b pitied or saved." "Imagine, Mademoiselle Adelaide, that I hay said the same words to you," exclaimed th commissary. "Do not touch me !" cried-Adelaide, terrific at what .she had heard, as Hubert endeavored t grasp her arm. " There is poison in the fou contact !" "Offer me rlo indignity," said Helen, retreat ing from Lesage. "Remember that you ma' feel his vengeance." "Whose ?" exclaimed Lesage, disdainfully.- "You know who," answered Helen.' " Stuff, nonsense, foolery ! I care not for Del croix. He is a renegade, a felon, and a-a-" "Nay.; he is none of those you have named I deny the charge," retorted Helen. " O, that Pierre Moran were here !" said Ade laide, half frantic with fear. "Cease to yex yourself about him. He is not needed. I am the hero of this occasion," said the commissary. "You see that it is of no use to struggle with destiny," resumed Lesage. ".You have lost in this game; I have won; submit gracefully. It were folly to attempt to elude me now. Shud- der, if you will; look around you, expecting some strange rescue ; or call on Hieaven, as all forlorn damsels dor .how very singular that Heave; such prayers !" " I °t nu;often, unfeeling and blas- phemeNi io ter!" ",cried Helen. "Be merciful--spare us-take us back to our frientls !" exclaimed Adelaide, falling upon her knees. "You look beautifully in that chaining atti- tude," said the commissary. "If it would avail aught, I would most earn- estly join in the petition; but alas, what prayers or tears could move such beings to the exercise of common humanity !" said Helen; and then turning to the commissary, she exclaimed, in tones of touching entreaty : " Have you no feel- ing of honor,.no remains of goodness to make Ir you ye aman-no finersensibilities to be awak- y, ened-no relentings-no tender pity-no- soft n remembrance of a mother'sor a sister's love p "He is guilty of nothing of the kind:!" said t Lesage. "You but wasts words-you do not, ff cannot move us; and Heaven is not propitious.? d "Heaven is: propitious i" exclaimed a voice, ;e which made theflushed cheeks of Lesage grow o deadly pale. " Heaven is propitious." e Before the captain had recovered from the first stupor of astonishment;,the breech of-the Rover's e rifle had fallen upon his head, and beaten him to e the ground. " That is for you !" cried Pierre Moran, deal- d ing the commissary a blow which laid him sense, o less beside his companion in guilt. d Helen's eyes fell upon Henri; she clasped=her hands, looked up to heaven, and the next mo- - meant lay insensible in the arms of the Rover;- y while Adelaide, embraced alternately by, ie and her father, was weeping in the excess of her joy. During this time Boisbriant and Red-Shoo - secured Lesage and the commissary,.having bound their hands firmly behind them. 'The . captain was the first to recover from the effldta of his punishment. - "What means this violence ?" he exclaimed, calling all his effrontery to his aid, and resolWg t to put the best face upon the matter to thedatL S " It means," said Boisbriant, sternly,_'tha you have been caught in your tillany, and fia your career in:Louisiana is broughtto -a cose. " That your sun is setting, and your night coming on, as- I told you," added the Rover« "A thousand bitter maledictions upon your head !" exclaimed Lesage, literally gnashing his teeth until his mouth was white with foam.'If my, own flat could hurl you :down to the deep' depths of the pit, you would soon be wrthingu beneath the tortures of the quenchlesslame=and the worm thatdieth not. You have baffled me; always baffled me; and now youlive to rejoice in your: luck, and exult over mydownflI The captain paused to gather. calmness enough to proceed, and then went on with increasing energy. "But I am not dead yet. I may live many years, and perhaps I may walk over your grave-and perchance I may yet help to lay you there. Fool that I was, not to have taken bette, aim, and sent you out of my way forever l" "Do not say too much," replied - enri, "1sor the bad blood in my heart is stirred up enough already. Soon I shall not be able to control y page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 3#mr THE WHITE ROVEIL actions. Pean scarcely keep my hands from doingwhat should be done by the public execu- ioer. But that which most lashes me to mad- ness, and almost -makes me a maniac in my~ Shirstatfor-vengeance, is the wrong that you have heaped upon these defenceless maidens. If there is anything under the canopy of heaven that I everdesired, it is to slay you outright, and with- out mercy. Pierre Moran, take hold of me, or I shall connit a murder." "Maly I die by inches,' if I so much as lift a singer to restrain you from sinking your toma- hawk into his head !" cried Pierre, stoutly be- stowing' a hearty kick upon the commissary, by way of emphasis. "Ask me," he continued, " to hold him while ye scalp him alive, and curse meif I don't do it!" "I protest against this ruffianism !" cried Hu- be't; furiously. "So these dear girls protested against yours, and you were deaf to their moving appeals, which woald have moved the heart of a brute," dedforan, fiercely. l'hey pleaded your mercy on bended knees, and eyougin the redundance of your diabolical cruelty, laughed them to scorn. Protest, if you llkeep-on' protesting, and see what it will ail. By'all that is sacred and holy, if Bois- bant will consent, I will hang you to the near- tr J e-you and your accomplice in guilt." ibert grew deadly pale, and trembled, as he $ - -uon the ground. He looked beseechingly at Boisb plant ; 4f appe61to you for protection," lie said, ab- jectly. You do'not deserve it," replied Boisbriant. uhen'o consent ?" exclaimed Pierre. will have them trussed up in thirty see- .f f;ercy mercy 3" shrieked the commissary. "have'been led into crime by this villain'beside n41AJ1unish him,and spare me." 'IUawol1 for you to turn against me !" cried Lesage. " It is excellently well for you to call me a villain. 0, it is manly-it is noble-it is the part of a friend," sneered Lesage.- "I curse you most bitterly," continued Hubert, in the agony of his fear. "I curse: you for an unmitigated scoundrel-the author of my ruin !" '" Craven-hearted traitor !" returned the cap- tain. " You jave been as ready, as eager and de- signing sin these matters as myself, and now, in. the hour of our downfall, you turn and curse me. 0, but I will remember it, Hubert. I will expose you. I will tell all your plottings against de Bienville, and of the letters you have writ- ten, and of the lies you have 'told to the ministry -I'll tell it all, and we will see who is the greater villain of the two. Ha! ha ! you wished to be appointed governor, did you! A fine governor ! an excellent governor ! a brave governor ! a moral governor !" " And you wished to kill Henri Deleroix be- cause he stood in your way. You perjured yourself, and made others to perjure themselves. You bought up the negroes, and you produced a piece of bark, containing characters made merely to beguile time, and which you well knew proved nothing; and you turned those harmless dia- grams into damning evidences of guilt. You hired an assassin, also, to accomplish what your treachery bad failed to do. What do you say to this, Chef Menteur ?" rejoined the commis- sary. "If we set them at liberty, they will soon be ready to kill each other," said Pierre. " Wicked men, when exposed, find much of their punishment in mutual recriminations," ob- served Boisbriant. " Chef Menteur," said Red-Shoe, who had un- til this time been assilent and attentive listener, " you have been a very bad man-a snake in the grass-and your heart is not so big as a woman's. You are not fit to live, and you will die like a squaw. The happy grounds will not be open to you, and there will be no canoe to carry you across to the land of bright shadows" . I CHAPTER XX. THE GRAND DENOUEMENT. WE scarcely'need pause to explain the sudden appearance of the foresters. The kind reader will, by a natural and easy deduction, arrive at the truth of the matter. Led on by Boisbriant, they had reached the vicinity of the encampment in time to witness a portion of the scene which had ensued between the captain, the commissary, and the maidens. Boisbriant, Ridelle, and Red- Shoe had stayed near Lesage, while the Rover and Pierre had followed the commissary. They had seen the mesdemoiselles fall unconsciously into his hands-and the whole party had silently closed up around the villains and their intended victims, when the events transpired just related. "1This is a pleasant spot ; let us encamp for the night," said Boisbriant. All parties gladly acquiesced in the proposal. A large pile of wood was shortly collected-a cheerful blaze soon cast its ruddy light upon the surrounding forest. Many green boughs were cut and laid upgn the ground, and blankets spread upon those, until an air of comfort seemed to breathe around them all. During these pre- parations there was much talking, and much happiness experienced by the lovers and the rescued maidens. The fierce, vindictive. looks of the two prisoners'alone marred the general feeling of pleasure. "Ihear the sound of horses' feet," said Red- Shoe, putting his ear close to .the earth. Tie mesdemoiselles glanced at their lovers in alarm. "It is true," said the Rover. "I can hear them myself, and there are many of them." " I will go and reconnoitre," said Onalaska, and immediately left them. The other foresters cocked their rifles, and awaited with muchtlsa- iety the result. Presently the footsteps griw more' distinct, and the sound of -voices was plainly heard. "They are Frenchmen I"exclaimed Boisbriant. The agreeable surprise of the foresters it is no easy matter to describe, when they perceivd a large cavalcade advancing, composed ef 4he , lowing characters, viz., de Bienville, Ftherr- vion, Madame Mablois and La Glories whisl the rear was brought'up by twenty well mnted Frenchmen, an4 thirteen Natchez warriortby renegade included in the number. The gy . ernor was engaged in earnest conversation W;I Red-Shoe, as he advanced, and was prepsgdod r what he now beheld. "This is indeed a surprise," exclaimted dole. "Yes," replied the governor, smiling "it-is a double surprise; ford am quite as much or more surprised, than you are. Henri, my brerbog, step forward, and let me speak to au. The governor's voice shook-i motoitas he spoke. m page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] THE WHITE ~ ROVER. Henri advanced a step, and de.Bienville has- tily .dismounted. "acre DieuI" exclaimed the governor, gaz- ing earnestly at the White Rover. "The very face-the very form-the very expression-Hen- ri, Ienri, behold your father's brother. I am your uncle, and your father's name was Iber- vllle-the noble-the fearless-the generous- the self-sacrificing Iberville, who was as dear-to me as my own life." Do Bienville ceased, overcome by his feelings. Large tears coursed down his cheeks.. Henri stood like one astounded. He neither moved nor spoke ; surprise kept him dumb. "Yes, you are an Iberville, every inch an Iberville," continued the governor, proudly em- bracing Henri. " I might have known it by your noble figure and lofty bearing ; by your fearless spirit, and by the strong resemblance." "Mon Dieu! I am bewildered," exclaimed our hero, at last. " This cannot be true." "It is'true as holy writ," said Madteme Ma-, blois, taking Henri's haid. "lAndsyou are-" began our hero. "Your mother, Henri !" The Rover could no longer govern his enq- } tleelinggt the'feetof ada ne M blois, 'li e l i i de -a Mablois, de ou gi g' biethe ass rance, I can no long +dtbt, he't eulate length. ood-friends," said-the governor, wiping ing his hand upon'the Rover's 1 t=iA~iecessary that Ishould explain this it as pro bl never known to one to rat Iberilie,'miy gallantbtothei-, brought with i himifair wife t9othe sores of Louisiana." aold rue so with his own lips," " h ppebetter,' continued de Bienville, t ow i. You will naturally ask =marriage was kept a secret. 1 iteliyou all." ele Wh e made plain," e'ablois. I. was born in Paris. *tf4 a , tom° ealei- de HenrivinIe, was im- is oflychild. He was a i .aA t i eM irng prej dices. It w ap~ar 9f hig character that when he had oh upon a particular sub- S ho 'tehan ed its (e of his favorite a eof rne to "the son of a hentleian 'pf dissoiute knew, he was the one I held in the least esteem or to speak more to the point, I utterly despised him. This person professed to love me as ar- dently as I hated him. My father wished me to wed him without delay. I refused, and he vowed to disown and disinherit me. Ihad already met de Iberville, and loved him, and listened with pleasure to his vows of unceasing constancy, although I was at that time aware that a hope- less feud existed between the father of Iberville and my own. To influence my mind, my father showed me a will, drawn up in due form, by which I was to be disinherited, if I married against his wishes. Upon the evening of that very day, I was secretly married to Iberville. A few months after taking this step, to escape from the tyranny of my father, and the impor- tunities of the man he had selected for my hus- band, I left Paris forever, and set sail for the new colony with my beloved Iberville. On the passage he exacted from me a solemn promise to keep the fact of our marriage a secret until after the decease of my father, the chevalier. "'I shall never touch a franc of his long- hoarded wealth,' said my' husband; ' but the helpless being, that will shortly demand your care, may one day feel the need of riches. I have long felt-an impeifect organization has pressed home the conviction with prophetic. truth-that I shall not live to see my child arrive at matu- zity. Let us then, my dear wife, keep our mar- riage .a secret known only to ourselves and a few friends in the new country to which we care going. Your father may relent, and leave the bulk of his vast wealth to you, which he will never do if he leans that you have linked your fortunes to one of my father's family, as you are aware, that a deadly feud exists between the heads of the two families-a quarrel which leaves us nothing to hope in the way of reconciliationo' " Knowing the noble motives which influenced sy husband, I made a solemn agreement with him never to divulge the fact of our marriage in any manner, so that .it could reach the ears of my father. Tberville was greatly belovedby the Natchez. A beautiful cottage was reared for me in one, of their pleasantvillages. My, hus- band passed much of his time with me, and I was happy. I.was a mother also; and Iberville idolized ur- Henri. He was a year old when his f there died. I confided a small :part of my secret to Father Davion-enough to secure ;hi aid, and my boy was taught mango. tigggby a' him which I could not have learnd himu I gave him the name of Henri Delcroix, by which he has ever since been known, and studiously concealing from hin the fact that I was his mother.' "You all kknow how much interest I have ever manifested in this youth, and truly I have' kept my promise to Iberville. Four days ago I received the intelligence that my father had de- ceased at an advanced age,leaving all his wealth to me; for I had informed him in various ways and at different times, that I was still living. Henri is now rich, and no stain rests upon his name. The nearest that I ever came abandon- ing my purpose of keeping our marriage from the governor, was when my boy was in prison. -But happily everything was ordered for the best. I was instrumental in his escape, and was not obliged to divulge the secret of his birth at that time. " When I received news that my father was, no more, there was no longer any need that I should observe secrecy. I explained all to his excellency, and burning with impatience to em- brace his nephew, he set out at once-took the trail, and has happily found him." Helen wept plentifully during this recital, and Boisbriant was observed'to gaze steadily at her. "Father Davion," he said, at length, in an ex- cited manner, " can you tell me anything in re- lation to the history of this young lady ?" "Alas I I know no more of her history than that she was left in my cabin during my absence, about sixteen years ago. She was then about two years of age, and I should judge, had been living among the Indians for some time. She had upon her neck a small locket, containing a miniature," replied Father Davion. "Where is the miniature ?" asked Boisbriant, still more excited. "Here," said Helen, drawing a locket from her bosom. " I have worn it ever since I can re- member." "It is she-my Irene! Helen, you are my child !" and Boisbriant caught Helen to his heart and held her in a long and loving embrace. " I am too happy," murmured Helen. "It is joy indeed to feel a father's love at last." Boisbriant made a significant motion to de Bienville. The latter took -Henri's hand and' led him towards Helen, and then toisbriant joined the hands of the two. Madame Mablois smilingly brought forward Father Davion, and left him directly in front of the parties. "Stop one moment, if you please," said Ri- delle. " There is more to be done in that way." Saying these words, he proceeded to place Adelaide and Pierre Moran in the same order. Obedient to the order of de Bienville, the sol- diers and warriors closed up around the parties. Father Davion wiped his eyes for the hun- dredth time, and was about to say something, when Madame Mablois stopped him with: " Stop another moment, good father. Some- thing more can be done, I believe. Red-Shoe," she added, in a whisper, approaching the chief softly, and smiling, " would you not like to wed the princess ?" " Does the sun love to kiss the clouds, or the stars to look down upon the -earth at night ? Does the grass love the gentle rains, or do the flowers turn toward the light ?" he asked. " La Glorieuse," continued Soft-Voice, " the great war-chief loves you better than the grass loves. the gentle rain, or the flowers love the light. Come and wed him, that all maybe hap- py, and not a single virtuous heart beat sadly here to-night." La Glorieuse extended her hand to Red-Shoe. Soft-Voice formed them into a line with the others, and Father Davion wiped his eyes again. Boisbriant turned to the French and Indians. " My fine fellows, open your mouths and shout as loud as you can. Now-go it again-louder -louder-twice as loud. That'll do ;'very good." Such shouts as went up from the forest at that time were never heard before, or since. " Wait a little longer, Father Davion, and you may go ahead with full speed," added Bois- briant. " Sergeant Dumont and CorporalRion, clap your hands upon those two rascals, lying on the ground there, and bring' them up here so they can see well," he added. "Come up here, my beauties," saidthe ser- geant. " Take hold of his feet, Corporal-tug him along. Don't kick, captain ; it m= n it, harder for us, and it's a wedding you'regoing to." Iii half a minute the captain and the comnmis- sary were placed in front of the persons to be wedded. "I wish I was dead and covered up in the ground;" muttered the captain, fiercely grinding his teeth with rage. " I wish you were," returned the commissary, with an oath. FatherDavion wiped his eyes yet again, and essayed to speak ; but the sounds died away in his throat. THE ,WMTI& . ROVER. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94.THi WHIT "It can't be done," he managed to articulate, at length. "ngt it must be done !" exclaimed Pierre Moran, impatiertly, looking at the blushing Adelaide. " Of course it must," added Boisbriant, "and a fine affair it seems to be, if I'm any judge. Boys, hurrah again, while the old, gentleman clears his throat; he's got an extraordinary cold!" The old woods shook once more to the hearty cheers of the soldiers, and the triumphant yells of the warriors. By this timeFather Davion had succeeded in getting -his pipes tolerably clear, and didn't .break 'down but once or twice during the whole ceremony. Mutual' embraces and congratulations fol- loiwed, and not one of the happy party slept a wink that night. The next day they tet out on their return to New Orleans ; and though they were more than two days an the way, they all considered it a asant journey. s ubert was sent home to France by order of E ROVER. the governor, where he was deprived of his office, and otherwise disgraced. He never showed his face in the colony again. Lesage was first cashiered, and then impris- oned for a few months. He was afterwards shot by Ette-Actal, the renegade. Several'of the Ban- bara negroes were arrested and executed. The White Rover visited the different Indian tribes, and made peace among them by distributing presents, and making some concessions which they had insisted upon. The innocence of Henri was of course fully established. The renegade left off many of his vicious hab- its; and finally, by the influence of La Glori- euse, was again taken into favor by his people. We can add but little more. We take leave of our characters, leaving them happy and con- tented. We feel that it would be useless to swell longer upon the fortunes of Helen, and Adelaide, when united to such noble and gener- ous hearts. Truly grateful to the gentle readers who have followed us thus far, we sincerely hope they have been interested in the, fortunes of the WHITB Romn, and the fair maidens of Louisiana. THE END. 11 '11- U [FROM GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION.) TSE UNFINISHED WILL. BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR. SOLOMON VANWICK was an old man-a man who had weathered the storms and frosts of four- score years. His frame had become weakened, his health impaired, and his mind nervous and irritable ; but yet the same iron will that had marked his disposition in the prime of his man- hood, was not bent beneath the weight of age. The old man had had but one child--a son. That son had died, leaving an only daughter, so that Solomon Vanwick had but one living de- scendant, from himself, the fair Isabella, his grandchild. Vanwick was wealthy and proud, and among the branch relations of his house, who hung abbut him in hopes of golden remem- brance in his will, was Victor Waldamear, the son of the old nabob's sister. Old Vanwick was sitting in his large arm- chair ; near him stood Isabella, while at one of the high gothic windows stood Victor Walda- mear. Isabella, though her eyes were tearless, had, yet been weeping at the heart, but she trembled not, nor did she shrink before the stern gaze that was bent upon her. Isabella," said the old man, while a mean- ing frown darkened his wrinkled face, " this Alfred Norcross is not the man for your hus- 'band. Do you understand me ?" "I understand what you say, grandfather, but I think you can know little of the man of whom you speak. If you did, you would honor him for his virtues." " When I say that Norcross is not the man for your husband, I mean it !" said the old man; " so from henceforth you will see him no more." " No, no, my dear grandfather," exclaimed Isabella, with an imploring look and tole, "you will not persist in that. You will not thus crush me beneath your displeasure." "Not if you obey me.". " But Alfred is the son of my father's dearest friend." "Yes," returned Vanwick, with bitterness, " and your father's friend was my enemy." " And will you, because thdre was an unhappy difference between yourself and the' elder Nor- cross, now keep that enmity alive against the unoffending son ?" "Silence, girl! Let me hear no more of this. What I have said is said, and it shall never recalled." " Sir," said Isabella, while an inward struggle to keep downs her rising emotions gave a pen- liar tremulousness to her tone, "you are can od man, and your days on earth are-short,; bitt little joy of this life is left for you, whie i p young, and all of active life is before ine. The steps which I take now will give color to my.. future, and be that future long "r short, it must page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 THE UNFINISHED WILL. 97 be made happy or miserable according as my steps are turned. My heart I have given to Alfred Norcross; in his keeping have I placed my purest affections, and I know that he is wor- thy of the trust. This union of our young hearts is the basis of all our joy in theefuture, and I cannot feel that even you have the right to rend it in sunder." " Child, do you prate to me of right ?" uttered the old man. " Young Norcross shall never touch one farthing of my money. You shall not marry him, and if he dares again-" "cHold1" interrupted Isabella, while a strong calmness seemed to support her, " whatever you1 have to say against me, I am ready to hear ; but speak not against Alfred Norcross, for he is my1 husband!" " Your husband !" reiterated old Vanwick, grasping the arms of his -chair with his bony 'hands. "Jsebella, speak that word again !" . "Alfred Norcross is my husband !" pro- nounced the fair girl,.in a firm tone.I " Then," returned the old man, asp his face grow livid and his teeth grated together, "go and live with your husband. From henceforth you arenothing to me. I have forgotten you- 1 your image is wrenched from my heart. Cross not my.~threshold again. Go ! you are discarded, f a'forever! ' "But, my grandfather-"b "Sience, miscreant ! Out of my house, and e neve, let me set eyes upon you again !" r "Then'farewell, and may -Heaven yet pour t the"balm of. forgiveness o'er your soul," said Is- abella, as she half turned away; but ere she t vent, she gazed once' more into his passion-- i wrought face, and with a starting Zgr she h continued: .lc 'todmoney, grandfather, I never coveted, s hut your love Iwould fain retain. Your prop- t] Y ftymay go to' those who hang about you for #, possession, but your old heart's affections s: Hijl 'findno better resting-place than in the I bosom of your grandchild, for there, at least, c ywill be reciprocated." OldSolomon Vanwick made no reply, but k h ie yet he gaxed at the light form of his grand- cd, she passed out from the room. As the Qor-closed behind he-, a look of almost fiend= ti like exulation rested upon the 'face of Victor se ear, and he turned his eyes away from Is a lesthis real feelings might be seen. t eu iinutes passed: away, dining which time i th ia fa sat with his hands grasped firmly pi upon the arms of his chair, while a fierce rage seemed rankling in his bosom ; but at length his feelings settled to a sort of cold, iron deter- mination, and turning towards his nephew, he said : " Victor, I think she's been ungrateful to me." "Most ungrateful," returned Victor, in a fawning, pharisaic tone. " Her ingratitude to one so kind and generous as yourself, was to me as unexpected as it was bewildering. But, my dear uncle, you may yet somewhat relent towards her, for though young Norcross is-un- worthy of your esteem, yet Isabella may have been deceived." " Deceived !" exclaimed the old man, again bursting into a passion. "It's me that's been deceived! Most grossly has she deceived me. No, no, Victor, you cannot palliate her offence. I have discarded her-disavowed her. Not a penny of my property shall she ever touch." Again Victor Waldamear turned away to hide the glow of exultation that suffused his countenance. "Dear uncle," he said, at length, in a tone so studied and hypocritical that any but a rage-. blinded old man might have seen it, "let me advise you to wait awhile ere you alter your will; for though Isabella has disgraced you by her marriage, as well as forfeited your kindness by her reckless disregard of all your desires-and ven though she has virtuallycast herself off by ruthlessly trampling on your love and solici- ude, yet-" " Peace, peace, Victor !" interrupted the old nan, with increased emotion, "Nothing, noth- ng shall turn me. I know you would plead for her, but even with your pleading, you cannot ose sight of'her utter unworthiness. My deci- ion is made. Here, take this key and unlock he left department of that old cabinet." Victor Waldamear stepped to the old man's ide, and with a trembling hand he took the key. t was placed in the lock, and the quaintly arved door was opened. " Do you see th t deep drawer, with a small ey in its lock asked the old man. " Yes, sir," returned the nephew. " Open it. Within you will see a parchment ed with a blue ribbon, and bearing a heavy cal. Bring it to ie." Victor found the document, and he handed it ' ; o his uncle; then, at an 'order from! the old aan, he rang for a servant, who, when he app eared, was requested to bring a lighted taper * . Ere long the taper was brought, and after the servant had withdrawn, Vanwick tore off the seal and ribbon from the roll he held, and as he opened it, Victor's eyes rested upon his uncle's will! With features again set in their firm,, iron mould, the old man raised the parchment to the blaze of the taper. The compact vellum began to hiss and crackle in the flame, and as it, -crisped and rolled in the heat, it fell in charred masses upon the table. Slowly it burned, but yet line after line of its inky import became an- nihilated, and at length the work of destruction was complete. Old Vanwick's will was no more. Thus far had Victor Waldamear triumphed. He had succeeded in poisoning the old man's mind against his grandchild, by the most subtle arts. He had not dared to directly attack the name of Isabella, but he had most basely tra- duced the fair fame of Alfred Norcross, and by a continuous siege of petty thrusts and stabs at the cords of affection that bound the old man to his son's daughter, he had at length seen the estrangement complete. But the game was not- yet won, for without a will, Isabella was the di- rect lineal -heir. A few will must be made, and to this end, and that he might be the heir, Vic- tor Waldamear determined to set himself at work. He was now Vanwick's sole confidant, and he held no doubts of his success. Already the broad lands and the bright gold of his uncle seemed his own, and not a pang of remorse reached his heart, as he thought of the poor, in- nocent being whom he had so foully wronged out of her birthright. Isabella was not entirely happy when she turned her steps towards the dwelling which her husband had procured, nor was she really sad. The knowledge that she had been utterly dis- carded by her grandfather was a source of sqr- row, for she had loved the old man well; but the thought that she had a husband who loved her cheered her on, and when at length she found herself clasped to that husband's bosom, the clouds were all rolled away, and she smiled in joy. "Alfred," said she, "here in this humble cot we must make our home, for my grandfather has forbidden me ever to enter his dwelling again." "Then he has disinherited you?" " Yes, and he disowns me." "6Then," said Alfred, while his fine features THE UNFINISHED WILL. were lighted up by a noble pride, and he clasped his young wife more closely to his bosom, " we will show him how independent we can be. I am sorry that he still clings to his dislike of me, but if I live he shall yet see that I bear him no maice'in return. When my father urged your father into that unfortunate speculation by which they both were ruined, he thought to do him a pecuniary benefit, but God ruled it other- wise. Now, if Mr. Vanwick will still hunt me down for the result of my father's doings, then he is at liberty so to do ; and for my poverty, too, I suppose he hates me ; but look up, dear- est Isabiella ; with my pencil I can yet carve out a fortune, or at least a comfortable means of sustenance. You do not mourn for the loss of your grandfather's estate, Isabella ?" "No, no, Alfred, I coveted it not; nor do I miss a thing I never possessed. One source of regret alone is mine-I have loved my grand- father, and I am sorry that he appreciates it not." "Your grandfather has not come to this con- clusion without some assistance from another quarter," said Alfred, with a spice of bitterness in his manner. " Victor Waldamear has had a hand in it all. His eyes have long been opened .to the possession of old Vanwick's property, and thus has his grasping ambition .begun to reach its object." "You speak truly, Alfred. But let us think no more about it. We can make our home happy without my grandfather's money, and if Victor succeeds in gaining the estate, I shall not envy him his possession." Within the apartment where the young couple stood, there was an easel, upon whichwas an unfinished landscape ; but yet enough had been placed upon the canvass to show that the-hand that had done it, carried a bold and easy pencil. The coloring was true to nature, and the soft blending of the lights and shades' betrayed an artistic taste and skill. Albert Norcross was a fair painter, and already had he engaged work enough to more than support him through the year, and he was Sure of his money as fast as he could turn off his pictures. As Isabella last spoke, her husband clasped her once mote to his bosom, and then imprinting a kiss upon her fair brow, he seated himself at his easel. Poor Isabella ! As she stood and gazed upon her husband as he now plied his brush, she dreamed not that the sweet flowers she 'hid culled could be ariPed with thorns. In the in- page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] Il 98 THE UIFJN nocence of her love, she had not thought of the future, or if she had, 'twas only as that love had pictured it. Alfred, too, looked only through the eyes of love, and he never once thought of the sterner realities that sometimes go to make up the counts of life. At the end of a week the young artist had fInished his picture, and, according to promise, he prepared to set forth for the dwelling of its purchaser. The man for whom he had painted it, lived some: ten miles distant, and having kissed his pretty wife, he took the product of his labor under his arm and started off. The forenoon was well advanced when he left his{ dwelling, but he promised to be back before dark, and Isabella smiled as she bade him God speed. Isabella sang and played the hours away, till the afternoon drew towards its close, and then she seated herself in the small flower-garden to watch for the return of her husband. An hour passed away, and she arose from her seat and walked around the garden,-then she went out into the road and looked off in the direction in which her husband would come ; but she spw him not, and once more she resumed her Oeat, Half an hour more passed, And a heavy, blackcloud, which Isabella had not before no- ticed,came lowering about her, and ere long the e=avy rain-drops began to fall. The young wife reluctantly left her seat in the garden, and sought refuge in the house ; but hardly had she gained it ere the rain, began to fall faster, and tfal gusts swept up from the cloudyladen hori- zon. The dust and dry leaves danced in the airrthe wind whistled louder, and a curtain of almost impenetrable blackness was drawn over the earth. Isabella; peered forth into the dark- nessand when she could no longer see even the trees that surrounded her dwelling, she shrank back from the window and sank upon a stool near h husband's easel. Siiwly and heavily wore away another hour. Isiabela arose from her stool and went to the ddswe The rain was fallingtn' torrents, and the v~vid lightning had begun to dance in the heavens. Peal after peal of thunder.roared rl1in the lightning-tracked space, and'at every shockthe poor young wife heart sank lower _nd&lower in her bosom. 'once she opened the toer, and. would have rushed forth into the rkness, but she -qnailed before - the raging normgiant, and-shrank trembling hack.: Already had the disconsolate woman's mind SHED WILL. begun to waver beneath its load of fearful doubt, when she thought she detected the sound of a heavy footfall without. She sprang towards the door, threw it open, and in a mo- ment more her husband caught her in his arms; she did not rest her weight upon him, however, for in a moment she realized that he trembled with weakness, and taking him fondly by the arm, she led him to a seat. Alfrpd was wet to the skin, and his limbs were cold and shivering, and though he smiled in answer to his wife's earnest inquiries, yet his smiles were weak and sickly, and they dwelt only for a moment upon the surface of his countenance, and then faded away before the power of pain and almost utter exhaustion. He explained to his wife that he had been obliged to wait some time Jfor his patron, and that in half an hour after he started on his way home, he was overtaken. by the storm. The utter darkness enveloped the path with an im- penetrable pall, and he had been obliged almost literally to feel out his course. Often had he fallen over the undistinguishable obstacles that lay in the road, and had the distance been many rods further, he could not have dragged his ex- hausted limbs to his home. With fearful forebodings, Isab'ella assisted her husband to his bed, for. his face was already, flushed with a burning glow, his breath was hot, and his pulse beat with a feverish quickness. She watched by his side all night, and -on the next morning a raging fever had set in. One of the neighbor's children was sent for a physi- cian, and when he arrived, he pronounced Alfred to be under the influence of a most malignant fever; at the same time assuring Isabella that the case of her husband was one of extreme . doubt. He ministered, however, for the relief of the patient, and promised. to call again on the morrow. A month passed away, and Alfred had not yet left his sick bed, though the fearful crisis had passed and he was fast recovering. The physician had discontinued his daily visits, hav- ing left orders for the patient's diet, with some simple restoratives, and the young painter had begun to hope again, Isabella was sitting by the side of her husband's bed, and a tear which she could not repress, stole down her pale cheek. "Isabella," faintly articulated the sick man, " what means that tear ?"- "'Tia nothing, Albert." TIE UNFINI "'Tis something, Isabella, for that sad look which -accompanies it, speaks to me of some- thing more than fatigue. Come, keep no secrets from me. What has happened ?" "Albert," returned the fond wife, in a tremu- lous tone, " I know not why I should keep it from you, for you must soon know it. But you will not suffer it to prey upon your mind, my husband ?" ' "Speak, Isabella. Tell me all, and if you can bear up under it, I shall not fall beneath its knowledge." " Then, Albert, we are-are-" "Go on, my wife." "We are penniless ! no food, no fuel, and no means of procuring them !" "Penniless !" murmured the young man, gaz- ing half vacantly into the face of his wife. " I had thought not of that. Penniless, and, alas ! how debt, too, must have crept upon us !'" " No, no, Alfred; thank God, we are not in debt." "Tot in debt, Isabella ? What can have sus- tained us thus'far ? Surely, my little stock of money could not have gone so far." "I have paid it all, my husband, but I can pay no more." 'You told me not that you had money, Isabella.?' "1I had jewelry,}Albert." "0, God! tnd has it come to this ?" bitterly cried the poor man, as he placed his emaciated hand upon his throbbing brow. " Would to heaven that I might have suffered this alone ; but that you, you, Isabella, should be thus dragged into misery with me, is insupportable. 0, why did you become my wife ?" "Alfred," uttered the wife, while the tears coursed faster down her checks, " do not add to what we already suffer. I can bear up under all but such unkindness, for 'tis unkind thus to speak of our united love. But, my husband, there is one more source of hope." "And that-"- " Is to seek my grandfather." "0, Isabella, my proud heart shrinks from such a course. You would only be spurned from his door, and treated with cold-hearted indignity and reproach. This would make our misery greater "Then let him spi ume. .I will at least see him and tell him how we.suler. He was my father's father, and he will-he must, have some compasion." SHED WILL. 99 " Then he would have shown it ere this." "He may not have known our situation." " He must have heard of my sickness." "Ay, but he cannot know how we now suf- fer. Yes, Alfred, I will go to him, and if he spurns me, we can but suffer on." The sick man gazed into the face of his wife, but he spoke no further. The thought that his Isabella must go to beg for him harrowed up his soul with an anguish more painful 'than the disease under which he had suffered. Since Isabella had been banished from his house, old Solomon Vanwick had been growing' moody and morose. He had entertained no thought of recalling' her, nor had. he swerved one grain, from his resolution of utterly disin- heriting her ; but yet he missed her sweet smile and her merry song, and no art of Victor Wal- damear's could make him glad. The old man, however, would not own, even to himself, that 'twas Isabella's absence that made him sad ; he rather persuaded himself that 'twas the :sin of ingratitude she had committed, and in this opin- ion Victor endeavored to strengthen him. Van- wick's health was evidently failing, and his- scheming nephew began to fear that he would die without making another will; but at length the old man was brought to the point and a. notary was sent for. He spoke of .his grande daughter, but Victor kept strict watch that the poison failed not in its work upon his mind and whenever some spark of paternal kindness would for a moment struggle to throw its beams, over his bosom, the nephew would dash it out with a cold stream of insinuating slander. Within the old man's library sat Victor Wal- damear and the notary. Vanwick was there, and he dictated to the official while the new will' was being made. With the exception of a few' hundreds, which were bequeathed to some of the old servants, the whole vast estate was made over to Victor. The young man's eyes sparkled as he heard the orders given which were to make him the sole heir, and he dared not hold up his head lest his too palpable emotions should be seen. "That is all," said the old man, as hegave, the last clause of the will.s " And have you nothing for your grandchild, the gentle IsabellaP asked the notary, with considerable surprise. " Isabella, sir, has, by her ungrateful conduct, alienated herself," returned Victor, quickly, lest,' if time were given, his uncle might relent. : page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 00 THEI1 UITINISHED WILL. "Mr. Vanwick," continued the notary, seem- ing to-take-little notice of what'the nephew had said, "by law, without. a will, Isabella is your sole'heir-the daughter-the only child of your own only son. Is it your firm intent that she be thus cut off" ' -" "I tell thee yes,-old man," said Victor. The notary noticed not the young speaker, but he kept-his eyes riveted upon the face of S9lomon'Vanwick. It is, it is," at length murmured the old man, in. a slightly faltering voice. "She has been very unkind, very ungrteful to me, and anwick hesitated, and for a moment Victor trembled, but his assurance came quickly to his aid, and he said: "My uncle would not thus have cut her off, but that;young Norcross stood ready .to grasp his money. Iso his hands Vanwick desires not that his property should fall; but, if at any time Isabela needs. assistance, or when I can see signs of her repentance, I shall assist her, though I trust that long years will yet pass ere this last testament of my dear uncle's will need to be administered, and he himself may yet see what the girl deserves." Young:Waldamear spoke this with the most hypoeritical sycophancy ; bnt it seemed to revive the drooping purposes of the old man, for with Suiek, nervous movement, he put forth his hndsaying, as hedid so : "!he will is as I wish it. Give it to me, sir, an4let me signit. I said it,-I gave her warn- wain-dld her she was discarded forever. 'Ta. heitraoh fault." Old Vitnwick :spread the parchment out be. fore him ,nd after running his eyes over it, he seized the pen and dipped it into the inkstand.' Th e was a nervous twitching about the mus- desotlhis face, and a strange, lustrous fire shot forth;from his eyes. The pen had not yet touched the document. igna 1ign 1" whispered Victor, as he sprang to the old man's side. "Here-here is the place !" T'Yes, =Iwill sign it,",.murmured Vanwick. 'Tse isnot worthy ; she shall not touch a penny o ie.;, said it, and I must not swerve." Thsd siign! sign 1" : i- V Ehark! Dd I not hear a voice ?" ut- ' teredtheold inan, still grasping the pen, and raisinP Ms hand. "'Twas her voice! 'Twas sabelig "!" .,. " " No, xio, she has forgotten you, my dear in- ole," nrged' Victor, while the sweat began tol stanid uphn hisibrow. :" Sign the will! Sign !" At that moment the door of the apartments was thrown 'open; and Isabella, all pale andi trembli g, erteed the ,room. Her eyes caught the scene before her, but she dwelt upon none save her gpandfathei' and 9wards him she east a1lo9k of imploring tearfulaony. A moment the old man gazed upon the Itorm of his grand. chiud, then his lips trembled ; the fire of his eye ehstngetdto a still-stranger glow, a tear started f uohi slongigray eyelashes, and slightly rasyngis hands toward where she stood, he ~nrmured: 1 -~ ~' .THE "Isabella-my child-forgive your poor old grandfather. I forgot the warm love of your young heart; but let all be forgotten--forgiven. You have come back to-you are-you are- Isabella. Victor-take away this black curtain- it shuts heroutt. Take it away-it makes all dark !" "The will! Sign'it ! sign it !" gasped the nephew, aste laid his touch upon the hand that still held the inked pen. That hand rested upon the table, and it moved not. It still clutched the pen, but it made' no motion towards the, unfinished will. The old man's eyes were still fixed upon his grandchild, but their fire was gone, and they looked cold and glassy. The notary stepped forward and raised Vanwick's hand from the table, but it fell' back with- a dull, leaden mo- .tion, and the unused pen fell from its grasp. Solomon Vanwick was dead ! Victor Waldamear shrank back pale and trembling from the scene ; he dared not speak, for in the presence of, the deadehis conscience shook off its slay folds and stung him. Isabella sprang forward and threw 'her arms about the neck of. er-.grandfather's corpse. She kissed the marble brow, she bathed 'the pale face with her tears, and then turning her eyes towards the notary, she murmured: " He forgave me ! He forgave me ere be died! You heard him, sir, did you not? ie loved me-he loved me--I ask no more." * * * * * * " Mr. Waldamear," said the old notary, after the party had withdrawn from the study, "hence- forth you' must regard Isabella as the ruler of this place. Whatever may have been your aims, or what schemes you may have used to attain them, you yourself best know ; but you must now be aware that there is nothing here for your ambition to feed upon further. -That will Which was to have robbed a child of her birthright is yet unfinished, and he who alone could have done it is now no more on earth. A wise Hand held him back from the fatal deed, and even his own hand shrank from it. And now," the old man continued, turning to Isa- bella, "let the servants see that nothing is trou- bled till my friends arrive to settle the estate. The funeral may, if you choose, be at your own arrangement, or I will take its- charge upon myself." I need not tell how the servants sneered at Victor Waldamear, when he went disappointed and disgraced away from the dwelling where his schemings had failed, nor need I tell'how the servants laughed and cried by turns when they knew that their young mistress was re- stored to them. Isabella mourned for her grand- sire, but yet the smiles of joy began soon to bloom around her. Her dear husband was restored to health-the wealth of her father's house was hersf and the deadly shafts of the traducer had fallen powerless and harmless about her. They had, indeed, caused her some hours of anguish, but now they had fallen back- upon the evil man who had sent them forth, and they stung him, and the poison he had in- tended for others, fell to his own portion. END. 100 . i b S i } N. '9 & Lu ;~ I::, 7$
