CHAPTER XXIV.
A Crisis—pride and Folly.
For weeks Antoinette's letter lay in the drawer where Louise had hastily thrust it, and no one had read it to the end.
Mrs. Hawley's health, which had been feeble for a long time, rapidly declined after the news of her husband's death, and in a few days she took to her bed, and shortly after died. The sickness and death of a member of her family, combined with her own sufferings so absorbed the mind of Little Wolf, that at the time she thought of but little else. But when it was all over, and her arm had partially healed, she began to realize acutely the anomalous position in which the purpose she had formed placed her to Edward.
It is true he came every day, and always with words upon his lips that sent the hot blood to her cheek, and each time she strove in vain for courage to approach the subject upon which hung her destiny. It was no wonder that she thus halted; that her heart stood still at the bare possibility of losing its idol; for, orphaned and alone, beyond it she saw no light in her path; only fearful darkness like the shadows of death.
There had been no word of explanation, and Edward seemed to have forgotten that he had ever desired any, and he had settled into his former assurance. His mother had, of late, spoken to her confidentially of the time when, as Edward's wife it would be her pleasure to relieve her of all troublesome cares; and Little Wolf listened in silence and in agony. She longed to unbosom her feelings but restrained herself with the resolve that she would, without delay, make them known to Edward.
In this state of mind she one day opened the drawer where lay Antoinette's letter and taking it out sat down to read it. She found nothing of interest in the contents, except that which she had previously heard, until her eye caught the postscript at the bottom which read thus:
"One day later. The Indian stayed yesterday to assist in burying the dead. He has just breakfasted and will start in a few moments, and I hasten to tell you the good news. Rejoice with me, all my fears are put to flight. Last night my conscience told me that I ought to invite cousin John to read this letter. He looked so serious when he had done so, that I was afraid I had offended him. But this morning to my utter astonishment he handed me a Total Abstinence Pledge, drawn up in due form, with his own name and Maria's signed to it, and playfully bade me write my name with theirs. "For," said he, "Antoinette, I intend in future to look well to the morals of my household, and see that they touch not, taste not, handle not, any beverage that will intoxicate." I burst into tears, and he said, "O well, if you feel so badly about it, you need not sign it," but he well knew they were tears of joy, and there would be no trouble about signing it. Would that the head of every family in the land, might do as cousin John has done. Then indeed, there would be rejoicing around many a fireside, where now sits sorrow and despair.
In love and haste,
"Antoinette,"
Little Wolf sat pondering over what she had read, never dreaming that her lover was peeping in upon her through the half open door. But Edward was to full of what he had come that day especially to say, to delay long, and he tapped lightly to attract her attention. Little Wolf welcomed him to her side, with the determination that she would then and there speak frankly upon the subject, which had so long pressed upon her mind.
But Edward had scarcely seated himself before he began in high spirits to speak of family arrangements.
"Louise and the doctor," said he, "have finally fixed upon their wedding, and darling," he said, lowering his voice, and speaking earnestly, "it remains for you to say whether or not, ours shall be at the same time.
Little Wolf's pulse quickened almost to suffocation, but she controlled herself bravely, and placing her finger on the last passage in Antoinette's letter, she said, "read that, Edward."
Edward did as she desired, and again turned upon her a questioning look.
"Now, Edward," said Little Wolf, smiling although her lip slightly quivered, "I am ready to set up house-keeping with you any time, provided you will put your name with mine to a pledge like that of which you have just read."
Although she had spoken playfully, Edward saw she was deeply in earnest, and his pride kindled, as the truth flashed upon him.
"Darling," said he, reproachfully, "I may have given you reason once, in an unguarded moment, to fear for me, but I had hoped that that scene had long since been forgotten."
"It will never more be remembered, nothing of the kind will ever be remembered," Little Wolf hastened to say, "If I but have your promise."
"Well, then," said Edward clasping her in his arms, "I promise."
In due time Little Wolf disengaged herself and opening her writing desk, she drew him towards it, saying, "Now, Edward, you draw up the document, and we will both sign it.
"What document do you wish me to draw up? Is not my pledged word to love, cherish and protect you not enough, you little infidel?" said Edward gayly."
"It is my request that you draw up a pledge promising to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, and sign your name to it, and I will put mine to the same," said Little Wolf, in the same gay humor.
"Why, darling," said Edward, in surprise, "my promise was all you asked."
"O yes, your promise to sign a total abstinence pledge was all I did ask," said Little Wolf cheerily, "and now, all I ask is that you do as you agreed."
"I did not understand it so," said Edward, "but never mind, darling; now listen to me. Would you, provided it were in your power, prevent my taking a harmless glass of beer in a warm summer day?"
"Well, Edward, of course I would not wish to prevent your indulging in any harmless enjoyment, but don't people sometimes get intoxicated on beer?"
"Only slightly elevated," said Edward laughingly.
"O, Edward!" broke forth Little Wolf in agony, "I wish you could see this thing as I do but you cannot."
There was silence for a few moments, which Edward broke by saying, sympathizingly, "I know why you feel as you do, darling, and I do not wonder at it, but warned by my own, as well as the experience of others, I shall keep a strict watch over myself for your dear sake, and I assure you there is no danger of me."
"Then," said Little Wolf, despairingly, "I cannot persuade you to pledge yourself to total abstinence?"
"No," said Edward decidedly, his pride deeply wounded by her implied doubts of his inability to control his appetite, "if you feel that you cannot trust yourself with me after all I have said, I can say no more."
Had Edward fallen dead at her feet, Little Wolf could not have looked at him more hopelessly. But Edward was blind to her mute anguish, and mortified and impatient at her silence, and little dreaming of what her answer would be, he at length asked rather coolly, "Do you really feel that you cannot trust your happiness with me?"
Little Wolf struggled a moment for composure, and then bowed her head in the affirmative.
Edward's flushed face suddenly paled. "Very well," said he proudly, and without another word abruptly withdrew. His quick, impetuous footsteps echoed through the hall; the front door opened and closed, and soon the distant tinkling of bells announced that he had really gone.
As the lovely violet closes its leaves when the shadows of night gather round, so closed the flower, which, in the sunshine of love, had bloomed in the heart of Little Wolf. She neither wept nor made any other demonstration of sorrow, but as she sat silent and alone her lips grew firm, and her eyes brightened and the pupils expanded, and her whole being seemed rising up in supernatural strength to bear the blow.
