That inestimable beast had made the best of his time, and would willingly have stayed longer; but seeing his mistress’s gorgeous signal fluttering in the air, like the mainsail of a schooner, he made one more desperate crop at the rich herbage, and came trotting decorously forward, with the foam and short grass dropping from his mouth at every step.
Aunt Polly replaced the bit, let out an inch of the girth, to accommodate the animal’s digestive organs, mounted a hemlock stump, littered all round with fresh chips, and, after coaxing Gineral Washington into the right position, seated herself grimly on the side-saddle and rode away.
CHAPTER XV
THE SERPENT BRACELET
Mary Derwent was restless and dreamy all day after Aunt Polly left the island. Spite of herself, she was sad—no cause existed now—Jane was safe at home, sorry for her indiscretion, at heart, no doubt; Butler, she hoped and believed, had left the valley—certainly there was nothing to apprehend nor much to regret—yet tears lay close to those beautiful eyes all the day long. She pined to hide herself in some quiet place, and cry all her fancied trouble away. The strange woman was before her every moment; she could not, with any force of will, put that picturesque image aside; it came, like the shadow from some wild dream, and took full possession of her.
She went to the spring early, just as the first golden waves of sunset began to ripple up the west. The blossoming crab-apples flung a rosy tint above her, and the soft whispers of the spring, as it ran off among the stones, sounded sad and tearful as the breath in her bosom.
There was no sound, for the Indian moccasin treads lightly as a leaf falls, and Catharine Montour stood close by the young girl before she was aware of any human approach.
Mary lifted her face suddenly, and there, revealed by golden gleams of light that penetrated the boughs, she saw that strange face, surmounted by the serpent whose blood-red eyes glittered on her like a venomous asp about to bite.
Mary was the first to speak.
“You are the lady who wished me to be here?”
Her voice scarcely rose above the whispering waters, but Catherine heard it distinctly. Still she did not speak at once—some unaccountable emotion checked the breath on her lips.