As Catharine relinquished her child, a hand clutched the other side of her canoe, and turning quickly she saw Gi-en-gwa-tah stooping toward her, while the cold grey face of Queen Esther peered up on her from behind. Catharine was chilled through by that face, and cowered down in the boat, afraid almost for the first time in her life—and why? The Indian chief was grave and kind as ever; as for the old queen, she was smiling.
Butler and Sir John Johnson went to Catharine’s lodge, while Esther marched up to the settlement at the head of her warriors.
In the interior of her house Catharine had gathered so many beautiful objects which appertained to her civilized life, that it appeared more like the boudoir of some European palace than a lodge in the backwoods of America; books, pictures, and even some small specimens of statuary stood around; draperies of rich silk flowed over the windows; and while his tribe maintained most of their savage customs, no prince ever dined on more costly plate and china than did the Shawnee chief when he made Catharine’s lodge his home.
With her face all aglow with happiness, Tahmeroo hurried back and forth in the room where her mother sat with her guests, preparing the evening meal with her own hands, for Catharine seldom allowed any personal service that was not rendered by her daughter; it was the one thing in which her affection had ever been exacting.
Tahmeroo loved the gentle task which affection imposed on her. With lips smiling and red as the strawberries heaped in the crystal vase she carried, the young girl brought in the luscious fruits and cream, glancing timidly from under her black lashes to see if Butler was regarding her. He looked on, well pleased. How could he help it? Bad as he was, the wild grace of that young creature would make itself felt even in his hard heart. And Tahmeroo was happy. She did not dream, poor child, that a new power had been added to her attractions since Butler had learned that she was heiress to a title and the vast wealth he could never hope to touch, except through her. Three weeks before, the selfish man would have laughed at the idea of a wild, bright girl like that breaking her heart from his indifference; now her life was very precious to him, and there was no degree of affectionate regard which he would not have feigned, rather than see her cheek grow a shade paler.
Catharine saw this, and her heart rose against the man whom she was forced to acknowledge as her son; but Tahmeroo was satisfied. Of the inheritance that might sometime be hers, she knew nothing, and cared less; her husband’s love was all the treasure she coveted on earth.
Butler saw Catharine’s eyes following him, and struck with a malicious desire to retaliate on her, broke out, just as they were all seated at the table, with a rude allusion to the English commissioner who had visited Johnson Hall on the evening before its master was driven away.
“Oh, dear lady, I forgot to tell you,” he said; “Sir John had the honor of entertaining an old friend of yours the day before he left the Hall; a person who knew you well in England, he said; and who professes that it was to purchase his life you married the chief here.”
“Captain Butler,” exclaimed Sir John, with sharp indignation; “by what right do you repeat conversation heard at my table?”
“Hallo, have I been blundering, and told tales in the wrong presence? I am sure Murray spoke of the whole thing openly enough.”