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“ All counted,” said Margaret, just on
the point of bursting out again.
“ Well ?” asked Xavier, who, leaning
upon his knees slightly raised his head to
look into he r face.
“ Well!” repeated the young girl, who
crossed her hands, then let them fall be
fore her, and looked up with her bright,
merry glance into the dejected face of
the old man.
“ But do you not think there is a fine
difference in your ages? Eh?”
Margaret was in no condition to an
swer—she laughed until she had to sup
port herself. The first and most obstrepo
rous outburst over, Xavier ventured a
protest, without gaining any advantage.
“Plague upon the rattle-brain !” cried
he, “there is no use to talk sense to
her!”
“No use to laugh with you,” replied
Margaret. Then, becoming suddenly
serious, “ see, grandpapa, Pm not laugh
ing now.”
“ And why did you laugh so much ?”
“ Evidently because you said some
thing so absurd.”
“What? What did I say? that
between you and Luc there was such dis
parity of age ?”
“Yes.”
“Is it this that seemed droll to you ?”
“Exactly.”
“You do not agree with ine
“No—l do not.”
“Thirty years!”
“Well, thirty years ? If it were fifty
years, what matter, provided there be a
good understanding on each side! that is
the first condition, is not so ?”
“I do not say—but—yet—
“ Yet what ?” asked Margaret with an
air of importance, for the spoilt girl could
as well afford an air of pique as she could
that of innocent railery. Then she add
ed, in a more sportive manner : Stop,
grandpapa—do you know what to do ?
go talk to Luc about it.”
“To Luc V ’
“Yes, to Luc! and you will see—
“ What will I see ?”
“That you will soon be sA right—that
ail difficulties will soon be removed.”
“Do you think so ?” said the grand
lather, perfectly astounded.
“I fam sure of it,” replied Margaret
most seriously.
And as Xavier still seemed stupified,
she continued : “Yes go and speak of it
to him. I will say nothing more.” And
she moved as if to go out. Xavier called
her back
< ! promise me, then, that you will
not speak to him.”
“Yes, I willingly promise that.”
And she went out with the same grave
expression. » *
XIII,
WE A T DID I TEL L YO U?
After remaining a moment or two as if
bewildered by the thousand and one
thoughts that rushed through his mind as
the result of the singular conversation
he had just had ; Xavier mechanically
opened the window and leaned out as
though he tried in some way to relieve
himself of the feeling of oppression he
labored under.
llis glance fell upon Jean Marie, who,
strutting about with a self-sufficient air,
had just turned into one of the little by
paths that ran round the side of the vine
yard at the foot of the hill.
Xavier quickly went down stairs,
walked out of the Mill, and, at once,
joined Jean Marie, who, seeing him ap
proach, drew himself up in the most con
sequential manner to meet him.
Some moments later, when he had
learned, even to the minutest detail, all
that had passed between the Master and
the Mill-boy—between the grandfather
and the grandchild—Jean Marie pomp
ously exclaimed,
“Lhbien! Pore Coudret what did I
tell you?”
i hen he resumed, in a soft, insinuating
voice, punctuating his sentences, slowly
and methodically marking time by tap
ping upon Xavier’s arm with his first
finger. “From all that, my good Perc
(loudret, what are you to conclude, but
that Jean Marie can see through a mill
stone, when lie pleases to take the trouble
to do so? I think you have the upper-hand
with them at all events; their compact
is at an end, no matter how soundly Luc
may be sleeping now, laughing as lie does
in his sleeve, at all that you may say or
do. When you ask him to go away for
a day or two, he says, “go speak to the
little one about it/ ? because lie knows very
well she can manage you, and that she
will refuse to consent to this separation.
On his part, he refers you to her when
you wish to argue with him on the pro
priety ot their plan. She has learned
her lesson well. At first, when you ap
peared to favor their scheme, didn’t you
notice that she seemed glad, and listened
earnestly to you, and that she answered
you in the same mariner V*
That is true, ’ said Xavier, much as
tonished, the simple-hearted old man not
observing that Jean Marie was merely
enlarging on the information he had ex.
tracted from him.
But the very instant that you raisec
any obstacle, she began to laugh, did she
not ?”
“ Ah ! that she did,” cried Xavier.
“ I knew it ! just as she always did,
when you would try to reason with her
on the subject. She knows her part—it
has been well marked out for her. He
knew well, the cunning creature, that in
advising her to laugh when you woulc
speak with her, that you would always be
outwitted. He has told her, “Laugh
always—laugh anyhow,” and she does it.
What will you have ? the poor little thing
is caught—she is taken in the trap, anc
does well wnat she is told to do. Then
he says, also, “ When you arc hare
pressed, send him to me.” And he waits
for you defiantly. He thinks that from
the very moment you come to discuss
the affair with him, it is one step gained ;
for that seems a kind of tacit admission
that it admits discussion, and that he will
have nothing more to do than make you
feci tqe strength of his arguments. These
arguments, who knows them, who can
lmow them hut he ? Although he has
such a dull, stupid look, he can plan the
deepest intrigues, lie is waiting for you.
And will you take my advice ? Here it
is cut and dry. If you foolishly center
upon any discussion on the subject, it will
be all over with you, to your great dis
comfiture, You will find yourself twisted
and turned, and finally compelled to agree
to everything. 11 is plans are cunningly
formed. He has taken his time and it is
not without *orne deep motive, that he
spoke with so much unconcern and famil
iarity.
“ The fact is,” here poor old Xavier
)egan to make some remark, but Pere
Mi trie went on, not wishing to give up his
larangue —particularly as he d r ew near
lis peroration.
“ Then, Pere Ooudret, if you mind
what I say, you will he most cautious how
you open your lips to him on one word
relative to the subject under discussion;
and you must remomber, if you approach
it ever so distantly, to steer clear of your
real motives and intentions—otherwise,
you will be tricked, and well tricked at
that. In two words I will tell you, Jean
Ooudret, you have a most dangerous man
in your house!”
Xavier tried to exclaim, thinking the
expression, perhaps, too strong.
“ Yes, I maintain what I say,” quickly
replied Jean Marie, ‘ a dangerous mau
—a perfect pest /* ”
The old man slightly shrugged his
shoulders with a look of passive asseut,
' (to be Continued.) j
[Selected for the Banner of the South.]
TALLULAH:
A LEGEND OF CHEROKEE.
Long years ago, an Indian maiden
dwelt in her father’s wigwam, near the
source of a small stream, in Cherokee.
The dark fountain gushed forth from a
precipitous rock, above which towered
gloomily the mountain of doom. The
sparkling stream went on its way, re
joicing in the verdure of its banks, in the
gurgling of its sweet sounds; and, like
good, extracted from evil, or, like honey,
extracted from the bittersweet of life, it
seemed the only joyous companion of the
Indian maid.
She sung'to it when sad, and her voice
sounded like the murmuring of gentle
waters. She invoked the spirit of the
stream upon its banks, when tilled with
the inspiration of the Indian faith. She
wandered on its banks with the quiver
and bow, till the mid-day sun turned her
stops again towards the dark fountain,
the gloomy mountain, and the stern, but
oving eye of her Indian sire.
Taliu’s figure was fine and symmetrical.
Grace and dignity united in every
movement. In her step, there was often
a haughty air, as if she felt conscious of
superiority ; and, when accompanied with
a bending of the head backward, and a
listening attitude, it was a sign of her
abstracted mood.
Now, she stood on the bank of the
stream, with one sandalled foot on the
edge of the light canoe, the other on the
bank. Her long hair hung in glossy
olaits. interwoven with wild flowers from
the mountain side ; and her robe of dark
blue cashmere, with its deep red border,
contrasted well with the clear brunette,
and the peach-bloom color of her rich
complexion.
She rested her slight paddle on the
shore, and her black eyes were fixed on
the setting sun, sinking in gorgeous light
behind the mountain of doom.
She thinks—yes, the Indian maiden
thinks, that he is going to the spirit-land,
to shine upon the hunting-grounds of the
red men, given them by the Great Spirit;
and, in a softly murmuring voice, she bids
her mother awake from her bed of fra
grant leaves in that far-off land; to come
C 5 '
“Let the Night-Bird rest, in the deep
shadows of the mountain forest, anc
watch over the grave of the Spottec
Fawn.”
The Indian passed his hand across his
brow, as if some gentle chord was touch
ed, and answered :
“We will carry the Spotted Fawn to
the new burying place, over the big
river, and there it will rest, till we meet
in the eternal hunting-grounds of the
Great Spirit.”
The maiden drooped her head again
upon her hands, and murmured a low
song to Cherokee, which sounded as if it
was a death-song of hope to her spirit :
“O, Mother-Bird, come,
To the Night-Bird’s home,
And make her nest soft, in sweet Cherokee!
Let her not roam,
On the big river’s foam,
But let her rest here, in We Aid vfoods, with thee.
“The mountain of doom
Is the Mother-Bird’s home;
She loved the mountain of sweet Cherokee I
Take the Night-Bird to rest,
With thee in thy nest;
O, let her lie down, in thy soft bed with thee!
“O, let her not leave thee,
Or ever forsake thee,
For the white man to roam o’er thee, my sweet
Cherokee!
Thy waters so bright,
With their deep, lovely light,
Must encircle her form, while she slumbers with
thee!’*
# # * *
The council fire burnt bright in the
vale of Nacoochee, and, seated around,
were the chiefs of Cherokee.
The crackling tire sent up in volumes
its ever-renewing light, and reflected its
red glare on faces earnest, thoughtful, and
severe.
At the base of the semi-circular group
rose an Indian mound of more than ordi
nary magnitude; and, on the top of it,
was a small tent, of cone-like form. The
red, blue, and white cover, denoted it the
tent of the Princess Tallu ; for the head
Chieftain’s daughter bore that title, and
had some influence in all their councils.
At present, she sat on a buffalo robe,
spread upon the ground before the tent.
Her dress was deep red, with a blue
border, worked in figures with white
beads. Ilcr sandals were also brilliant
with the same materials; and her black
hair, hanging loosely round her, ornament
ed also with beads, looked as if sprinkled
with light, in the glaring reflection of the
council fire.
The Bounding Deer rose from the seat
of honor (for lie was first among the
Chiefs), and, standing out in the light,
showed his athletic form, his noble brow,
his eagle eye.
But time had told its tale on all. His
form was slightly bent, as if acknowledg
ing to earth a tribute; his noble brow was
marked with thought; bis eagle eye was
softened, as if sorrow’s sad wings had
also brooded there. Lofty feeling, how
ever, animated them now, as he extended
his strong arm up towards the heavens.
“Red men !” he said, “Warriors of
Cherokee ! What does the Great Spirit
whisper in your hearts ? The pale faces
come from the rising sun, and the morning
light shines bright upon their path. They
forth, from her wigwam of soft doe-skins,
and look at the light, now sinking away
from the eyes of her sad Night-Bird.
“What does my pretty Night-
Bird, dream of now ?” said a tall, majestic
Indian, laying his hand gently on the
maiden’s shoulder.
She shrunk not from the touch, or
drew her gaze from the western light, the
last gleam of which was now fading into
the mellow twilight hour; but she said in
a low, firm tone:
“I see her in the dream land, and she
says to me, again, * Come to the bright
waters ! come to the bright waters !’ ”
And she stepped into the light bark,
with a mysterious, dreamy spirit on her
brow.
The Indian placed his hand upon her
arm, and said:
“Princess Tallu, the Great Spirit says,
not till three moons have come and gone;
wait, and then my Night-Bird shall fly
away over the big river.”
She took her seat beside him on the
bank, and there tsey talked, sire and
maiden, till long shadows fell across the
stream.
The mountain of doom was defined,
towering and black against the western
sky, and yet the murmur of their voices
fell upon the car.
Tallu’s bare arms were folded on her
knees ; and her beautiful head rested on
them—the mute image of despair.
The tall Indian stood by her side, and,
pointing to the west, said :
“Yes, over the big river, the Night-Bird
must go, with the Bounding-Deer. The
white man comes from the rising sun ;
and the red-man must follow the long
shadows, till he finds the hunting-grounds
of the Great-Spirit.”
The maiden raised her head, and
said :
come over the big waters, and they cover
the savannas of the low country, like the
locusts cover the trees in the summer
time. They come up to the roosting place
of the Chcrokees, and they say in our
ears, ‘Move over the big rivers—go to
big country.’ Ked men! warriors of
Cherokee! what does the Great Spirit
whisper in your hearts?”
“Let us light the pipe of peace,” said
the Bald Eagle, with the white lock of
Winter on his head, “and open our ears
to the voice of our White Father.”
“Our White Father is worse than a
tiger,” said a young Warrior, springing
from his seat; “he lays in wait for the
blood of his friends; lie scents his prey
to the mountain lop, and in the deep
caverns of the waterfalls iie hunts him
out ! What does the pale face want with
the mountains of Cherokee ?”
“Can’t the white man make corn in the
vale of Nacoochee to feed their papooses
on?” said Wild Cat (of the Creek Nation,
who had come to visit the Chcrokees in
their Council), in a tone of irony. “The
eyes of the white man can see like the
hawk’s eyes, and his heart follows his
eyes to the hunting grounds, and the
corn fields of Cherokee. Will the Eagle
give his nest to the greedy Hawk ?
“Listen to the Warrior of the Creeks,”
said the young Warrior, “and let the
Bounding Deer and the Bald Eagle tell
the White Father, we will keep our home
in tiie mountains of Cherokee.”
“Listen to the Great Spirit,” said the
Bounding Deer; “He calls us toward the
setting sun, where the prairies and the
hunting grounds are waiting for the red
men.”
“Ugh !” said the Creek Warrior, with
a sneer; “the pale faces whisper soft
wind in the Cherokee’s ear, and make
him sleep like a white woman.”
“\Vah!” said the Bounding Deer,
springing towards him, and seizing the
belt which held his tomahawk and knife;
the Wild Cat sneaks on his prey in the
low grounds, and liis heart is muddy.
His tongue is crooked, like the crooked
river”—and he pushed him from them
with such force that he tottered and fell
backward.
The pipe had not yet been lit, so that
this was no breach of Indian hospitality.
Excitement ruled the Council— the
young Warriors, and all, venting their
different opinions in muttered sounds,
while the Bounding Deer stood in their
midst, like the rock in the midst of the
storm, calm and unimpressible.
Princess Tallu stood upon her buffalo
robe, her majestic form thrown forward,
and her arms extended towards the
Council.
“Listen, red men ! braves of Cherokee!
Listen to the Great Spirit. He whispers
to the Night-Bird in the sighing winds of
evening ; and he speaks to her heart in
the bright clouds of day. lie has brought
the pale faces to the foot of our mountains,
and to the opening of the deep valleys,
and he says to them, ‘Go up higher.’
Listen, braves of Cherokee! You must
take up the bones of your fathers, and
travel towards the setting sun. A White
Fox has crept into the Council of the
braves, and he wears the skin of the big
Warrior of the Creeks. Let him rest at
the feet of Tallu, and learn a spirit lesson
from the braves of Cherokee.”
The Council fire sent up its freshly re
newed light into the clear air; and the
calumet was smoked around by the now
silent braves of Cherokee.
Princess Tallu reclined upon her buf
falo robe, leaning against a pole of the
brightly striped tent, while half way
down the mound, sat the White Fox, in
die borrowed semblance ol Wild Cat, the
iig Warrior of the Creek Nation.
The shadows of a moonless night rested
on the mountain of doom, and the vapors
lung upon the low grounds, looking like
dark and turbid waters.
The gigantic Spirit who was said to pre
side over it, seemed to preside over it
with a jealous and watchful eye. In
deed, the thunders of his wrath were ever
ready to be hurled upon those who dared
to ascend to the heights consecrated to
lis presence. So said Indian tradition ;
and the testimonies of all, who had ven
tured to do so, proved that the elements,
at any rate, were in league against thoss
who braved the ascent to the summit of
the mountain of doom.
There, impressed upon trie rocks, are
visible footprints of some mysterious
aeing, as if some great spiritual agent,
compelled to leave a token of his presence
to man, chose to place his step upon this
indestructible summit, surrounded by the
thunderbolts and the wrath of Heaven.
There, time after time, day after day,
the vapors gathered around that veiled
head. There the thick mists rested, and
the thunder and lightning spent their
fury ; yet the footprints remained there,
unchanged and entire, surrounded with
signs of the invisible and mysterious
past.
Three dusky looking forms, in Indian
file, wound their way above the rock
which overlooks the dark fountain; an,]
ascending still in silence, they reached th..
first level of the mountain of doom.
The next ascent towards the lowering
summit, commenced in jutting rock?
which, in some places, extended quite
out, leaving a sheltered space below.
Under one of these, was a solitary
grave, to which the three advanced i n
silence.
The Bounding Deer lit a tore which
he stuck in a crevice of the rock. ;1 1 bru
its flickering light over the sad t\.qj no .
place of the Spotted Fawn. Tl, n r j ei ]
leaves, borne by the shifting wind, massed
backwards and forwards over the rreen
mossy grave, as loth to leave the sacred
spot; and, hung in a crevice of the rock
overhead, was a fawn’s skin, soft and
spotted, renewing ever in time the
memory and name of her who had de
parted to the land of spirits.
Tallu was there; but how changed,
from the gaily dressed Princess,
in the Council of the Chiefs!
Now, she was pale, though stately,
nay, even haughty, in her determined
silence.
Her long, black hair, hung unadorned
around her, excepting with the native
majesty of her eyes and brow, which
beamed forth like gems from the centre
of a rich setting of jet.
Her form was shrouded with a mantle,
covered entirely with the soft feathers of
the night bird; and nothing exceeded the
loveliness of the long tapering fingers,
clasped around one knee, as she sat at the
head of the grave. Her beautiful face
was upturned towards the soft skin of the
spotted fawn which hung above her.
“What does the Great Spirit whisper
to the heart of the Night Bird ?” said the
Bounding Deer.
“The Great Spirit says that the White
Fox has come to steal the wigwam of the
Indian brave, and to clip the wings of
the Night Bird. The Night Bird hovers
around the grave of her mother ; and the
White Fox watches her like a coward,
when only the Great Spirit is near. The
Night Bird sees him with the eye of her
spirit; and his face is pale , under the
yellow die of the acorn juice.”
The White Fox stood, with his arms
crossed on his breast, leaning - against a
corner of the projecting rock.
“les,” lie said, “I am a pale face, hut
not come to steal the wigwam of the In
dian brave, or to clip the wings of the
beautiful Night Bird Let the Night
Bird look at the tips of her tapering
fingers, and say if the snow has not been
melted in the fountain, why the red blood
shows so plainly, through the clear sur
face ? Did the White Dove of the low
lands never fly to the rocks of Cherokee
for shelter ?”
Tallu unclasped not her hands from her
knee, or allowed her eyes to turn down
ward to their beautiful tips; but turned
them to the Bounding IX-er, with an
earnest and inquiring gaze, as if com
manding an explanation.
“The Great Spirit opens wide the heart
of the Bounding Deer,” he said, “and
lays it at the feet of his little one. The
Bounding Deer hunted on the banks es
the great Tallulah, when he w T as young
and strong enough to hold the big bow of
his father, and to climb the rocks of the
deep fall. In the roar of the big tempest,
a young fawn moaned, and a shrill cry of
anguish reached the heart of the Bounding
Deer. From rock to rock he leaped,
till, low down on a ledge, there lay the
fawn, and a young girl, cast like a snow
flake from the mountain top, lifeless,
with her head resting on the spotted
fawn.
As ho said this, he raised his firmer,
find pointed to the symbol of his love, and
looked as if he were calling once more
from the past the spirit of the pure one,
who lay beneath the green moss and the
dried leaves.
“les, ’ he continued, “the Bounding
Deer took her to his heart and his wig
wam. She listened to the love* soim of
the Indian hunter, and whispered in his
ear the mournful story of her wrong"
She stained her skin with the brown
juice of the acorn, and worshipped the
Great Spirit of the Indian hunter. Sir.*
is waiting now, in the Eternal hunting
grounds, to hear the step of the Bounding
Deer, and the sweet voice of her little
one, the gentle Night Bird.’’
The Indian hunter’s arm fell to hi"
side. Ilis chin rested on his breast; and
in his mute and passive attitude, he seemed
as il only waiting the development of the
present scene to take his departure to
those eternal hunting grounds of hi"
spiritual faith.
I aliu s head rested on her knee, as it
did once before, in the fading twilight, on
the bank of the little stream ; and as the
unfolding of her destiny pressed itself
upon.her prophetic spirit, she drew the
shelter of the night-bird’s plumage more
closely around her, as if she was willing to