X. — AMANDA.
Half an hour’s ride through the swampy low grounds rising to gentle uplands, and beneath the festoons of the great vines trailing from tree to tree, brought us in front of a small house, half buried in a clump of bushes, like a hare’s nest amid brambles.
“We have arrived!” said Mohun, leading the way to the cabin, which we soon reached.
Throwing his bridle over a bough near the low fence, Mohun approached the door on foot, I following, and when close to the door, he gave a low knock.
“Come in!” said a cheerful and smiling voice.
And Mohun opened the door, through which we passed into a small and very neat apartment containing a table, some chairs, a wide fireplace, in which some sticks were burning, a number of cheap engravings of religious scenes, framed and hanging on the wall, and a low bed, upon which lay a woman fully dressed.
She was apparently about thirty-five, and her appearance was exceedingly curious. Her figure was slender and of medium height; her complexion that of a Moorish or oriental woman, rather than that of the quadroon, which she appeared to be; her hair black, waving, and abundant; her eyes as dark and sparkling as burnished ebony; and her teeth of dazzling whiteness. Her dress was neat, and of bright colors. Around her neck she wore a very odd necklace, which seemed made of carved bone; and her slender fingers were decorated with a number of rings.{1}
{Footnote 1: “I have endeavored to give an exact description of this singular woman.” Colonel Surry said to me when he read this passage to me: “She will probably be remembered by numbers of persons in both the Federal and Confederate armies. These will tell you that I describe her accurately, using her real name, and will recall the strange prediction which she made, and which I repeat. Was she an epileptic? I do not know. I have certainly never encountered a more curious character!”—EDITOR.}
Such was the personage who greeted us, in a voice of great calmness and sweetness, as we entered. She did not rise from the bed upon which she was lying; but her cordial smile clearly indicated that this did not arise from discourtesy.
“Take seats, gentlemen,” she said, “and please excuse me from getting up. I am a little poorly to-day.”
“Stay where you are, Amanda,” said Mohun, “and do not disturb yourself.”
She looked at him with her dark eyes, and said, in her gentle, friendly voice:—
“You know me, I see, General Mohun.”
“And you me, I see, Amanda.”
“I never saw you before, sir, but—am I mistaken?”
“Not in the least. How did you know me?”
The singular Amanda smiled.
“I have seen you often, sir.”
“Ah—in your visions?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Or, perhaps, Nighthawk described me. You know Mr. Nighthawk!”
“Oh, yes, sir. I hope he is well. He has often been here; he may have told me what you were like, sir, and then I saw you to know you afterward.”
I looked at the speaker attentively. Was she an impostor? It was impossible to think so. There was absolutely no evidence whatever that she was acting a part—rather every thing to forbid the supposition, as she thus readily acquiesced in Mohun’s simple explanation.
For some moments Mohun remained silent. Then he said:—
“Those visions which you have are very strange. Is it possible that you really see things before they come to pass—or are you only amusing yourself, and others, by saying so? I see no especial harm in the matter, if you are jesting; but tell me, for my own satisfaction and that of my friend, if you really see things.”
Amanda smiled with untroubled sweetness.
“I am in earnest, sir,” she said, “and I would not jest with you and Colonel Surry.”
I listened in astonishment.
“Ah! you know me, too, Amanda!”
“Yes, sir—or I think I do. I think you are Colonel Surry, sir.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have seen you, too, sir?” was the smiling reply.
I sat down, leaned my head upon my hand, and gazed at this incomprehensible being. Was she really a witch? I do not believe in witches, and at once rejected that theory. If not an impostor, then, only one other theory remained—that Nighthawk had described my person to her, in the same manner that he had Mohun’s, and the woman might thus believe that she had seen me, as well as my companion, in her “visions.”
To her last words, however, I made no reply, and Mohun renewed the colloquy, as before.
“Then you are really in earnest, Amanda, and actually see, in vision, what is coming to pass?” he said.
“I think I do, sir.”
“Do you have the visions often?”
“I did once, sir, but they now seldomer come.”
“What produces them?”
“I think it is any excitement, sir. They tell me that I lay on my bed moaning, and moving my arms about,—and when I wake, after these attacks, I remember seeing the visions.”
“I hear that you predicted General Hunter’s attack on Lexington last June.”
“Yes, sir, I told a lady what I saw, some months before it came to pass.”
“What did you see? Will you repeat it for us?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I remember all, and will tell you about it, as it seems to interest you. I saw a town, on the other side of the mountain, which they afterward told me was called Lexington—but I did not know its name then—and a great army of men in blue dresses came marching in, shouting and cheering. The next thing I saw was a large building on fire, and through the windows I saw books burning, with some curious-looking things, of which I do not know the names.”
“The Military Institute, with the books and scientific apparatus,” said Mohun, calmly.
“Was it, sir? I did not know.”
“What did you see afterward, Amanda?”
“Another house burning, sir; the Federal people gave the ladies ten minutes to leave it, and then set it on fire.”
Mohun glanced at me.
“That is strange,” he said; “do you know the name of the family?”
“No, sir.”
“It was Governor Letcher’s. Well, what next?”
“Then they went in a great crowd, and broke open another building—a large house, sir—and took every thing. Among the things they took was a statue, which they did not break up, but carried away with them.”
“Washington’s statue!” murmured Mohun; and, turning to me, he added:—
“This is curious, is it not, Surry?”
I nodded.
“Very curious.”
I confess I believed that the strange woman was trifling with us, and had simply made up this story after the event. Mohun saw my incredulity, and said, in a low tone:—
“You do not believe in this?”
“No,” I returned, in the same tone.
“And yet one thing is remarkable.”
“What?”
“That a lady of the highest character assured me, the other day, that all this was related to her before Hunter even entered the Valley."{1}
{Footnote 1: Fact.}
And turning to Amanda, he said:—
“When did you see these things?”
“I think it was in March, sir.”
The words were uttered in the simplest manner possible. The strange woman smiled as sweetly as she spoke, and seemed as far from being guilty of a deliberate imposture as before.
“And you saw the fight at Reams’s, too?”
“Yes, sir; I saw it two months before it took place. There was a man killed running through the yard of a house, and they told me, afterward, he was found dead there.”
“Have you had any visions, since?”
“Only one, sir.”
“Lately?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you see?”
“It was not much, sir. I saw the Federal people on horses, watering their horses in a large river somewhere west of here, and the vision said the war would be over about next March.”
Mohun smiled.
“Which side will be successful, Amanda?”
“The vision did not say, sir."{1}
{Footnote 1: Colonel Surry assured me that he had scrupulously searched his memory to recall the exact words of this singular woman: and that he had given the precise substance of her statements; often, the exact words.—ED.}
Mohun, who had taken his seat on a rude settee, leaned his elbow on his knee, and for some moments gazed into the fire.
“I have asked you some questions, Amanda,” he said at length, “relating to public events. I now come to some private matters—those which brought me hither—in which your singular visions may probably assist me. Are you willing to help me?”
“Yes, indeed, sir, if I can,” was the reply.