The Knight of the Golden Melice: A Historical Romance

by John Turvill Adams

"Hey-day!" she exclaimed; "to think that Master Miles, the handsomest and darlingest young gentleman in Devonshire, and who, if he was only a painter, looked grander and gave away more gold pieces than many a lord she'd known, and who worshipped Mistress Eveline like some pagans she'd heard of did the sun, should think of forgetting her! It was precious nonsense. For her part, if she was Mistress Eveline, she would write to him herself, without letting old vinegar-face know anything about it."

The advice was not thrown away on the young lady, though with an instinctive delicacy she did not follow it literally. Instead of addressing Arundel directly, she wrote to a female friend, and communicated the change in her circumstances, and the relenting of her deceased father, rightly judging that the information would not long remain unknown to her lover. She did this without the knowledge of Spikeman, else it is probable that the letter would never have reached its destination. The event answered her expectations, and with the arrival of the first ship after her epistle was received, she had the gratification of greeting Arundel. But what was her astonishment, when, upon the demand of the young man that her guardian should carry into effect the wishes of his deceased friend, Spikeman denied that any obligation was imposed upon him. He would not admit that there had been any change of opinion in the dying man, but insisted, on the contrary, that he had remained steadfast in his purpose to the last. He affected surprise at the declarations of Eveline, and while not pretending to say what might have taken place in his absence, persisted in asserting that nothing of the kind had occurred in his presence. The young lady was surely in error. The bewilderment occasioned by excessive grief on account of her father's condition, and partiality for her lover, had caused her to mistake the meaning of the former. He could not, however much desirous to please his ward, violate the instructions of his deceased friend.

The remonstrances of Arundel, and gentle expostulations and entreaties of Eveline, were without effect; and when once the young man, in a moment of anger, threatened Spikeman with an appeal to justice and punishment by the government in England, the latter grimly sneered at his threats, and bade him beware lest he himself might be sent, as a malcontent, out of the country. It was, indeed, far more probable that such would be the result of Arundel's persistency, than that he should succeed in carrying off his mistress; and, blinded as he was by love, he could not conceal from himself the danger. To this was to be added another peril, which the Assistant, in one of their conversations, had hinted at, and of which we have also made mention, viz: that he might incur the punishment provided for those who paid court to maidens without the consent of the guardian or magistrate.

But the young couple had, besides Prudence, a powerful friend, Whose kind heart pitied their misfortunes, and by whose means, assisted by the faithful serving-maid, they had many stolen meetings, unknown to their persecutor, and this was no other than dame Spikeman herself. Destitute of children, she had been early attracted by the beautiful orphan, for whom she soon learned to feel the affection of a mother. Into her tender bosom the unprotected girl poured her griefs, and always met with sympathy and good counsel. At first, the good dame attempted to alter the determination of her husband, but finding her efforts in vain, she finally abandoned them, and contented herself with favoring the lovers by every means in her power, without his knowledge, trusting to the chapter of accidents for the result. Perhaps a few pieces of coin, distributed by Arundel now and then among the servants, contributed to preserve the knowledge of their meetings from the Assistant, who, whatever he might suspect, found it difficult, engaged in his business, to detect them.

While we have been making this tedious but necessary explanation, the young man has had time to reach the thickest part of the forest, lying midway betwixt the residence of the knight and his place of destination. He followed a narrow path made originally by the Indians, as they traversed the woods in the manner peculiar to themselves, known by the name of Indian file, now skirting the edge of a morass, now penetrating through a thick undergrowth, and now walking in more open spaces and under the shade of enormous trees.

Arundel, as he walked along with his piece in his hand, had kept watchfully looking round to discern any game within range, when, as he reached one of these open spaces, his eyes fell upon a dark object crouched upon a lower limb of a tree immediately over the path before him, and he instantly recognised the animal as the cougar or American panther. It is the habit of the creature thus to conceal itself in trees, waiting till its prey passes along, when, with one bound, it springs upon its back, and quickly succeeds, by its own weight, and by tearing the veins and arteries of the neck, in bringing it to the ground.

The youth stopped, and gazed upon the motionless beast, whose half-shut eyes he could see winking at him. He lay extended upon the limb, his forward feet spread out at full length, on which rested his small round head, with little ears falling back almost flat, his hind legs drawn up under his body, and his flexible tail hanging a short distance beneath the bough. The dark reddish color of the hair of his skin, dashed with blackish tints, harmonized and blended well with the hue of the bark, so that at a distance, to an unpracticed eye, he appeared like a huge excrescence on the tree, or a large butt of a branch that had lodged in its fall.

The young man did not hesitate what to do. He had come prepared for meeting with wild animals, and felt too much confidence in himself to fear the encounter. He approached so as to be just without reach of the spring of the creature, and levelling his piece, while he could see the cougar shut its eyes and cling closer to the limb, fired. The sound of the gun rang through the ancient forest, and in an instant the beast, jumping from the limb, fell at his feet. So sudden was this, that Arundel had hardly time to withdraw the weapon from his shoulder, before the animal had made the spring. The first impulse of the youth on finding the ferocious brute thus near, was to club his gun and strike it on the head; and now he discovered that it was wounded in one of the forward legs, which hung helplessly down. But the wound, instead of disabling or intimidating, only inflamed the ferocity of the creature. It made repeated attempts to jump upon its foe, which, in spite of the crippled condition of its leg and the loss of blood, Arundel found it difficult to elude. Active as he was, and though he succeeded occasionally in inflicting with his hunting-knife a wound upon the beast, he soon began to suspect that, notwithstanding he had thus far escaped with some inconsiderable scratches, the powers of endurance of the formidable forest denizen were likely to exceed his own. The combat had lasted some time, when, as the young man endeavored to avoid the leap of the panther by jumping to one side, his feet struck against some obstacle and he fell upon his back. In an instant the enraged beast, bleeding from its many wounds, was upon his prostrate person, and his destruction appeared inevitable. With a desperate effort, he struck with the hunting-knife at the panther, who caught it in its mouth, the blade passing between its jaws and inflicting a slight wound at the sides, so slight as not to be felt, and stood with its unhurt paw upon his breast, powerless to do mischief with the other, and glaring with eyes of flame upon its victim. At the instant when the panther, shaking the knife out of its mouth, was about to gripe, with open jaws, the throat of the young man, it suddenly bounded with a cry into the air, almost crushing the breath out of the body of its antagonist, and giving him an opportunity to rise. When Arundel stood upon his feet, he beheld the panther in the agonies of death—an arrow sticking in one eye and an Indian striking it with a tomahawk upon the head, for which great agility and quickness were necessary in order to avoid the paw and teeth of the creature in its dying struggles. These soon became less violent, until, with a shudder, the limbs relaxed, and it lay motionless and harmless,

Arundel now advanced to thank for his timely succor the Indian, who stood quite still looking at him. He was apparently less than thirty years of age, tall and well formed, with a countenance expressive of nobleness and generosity. His attire consisted only of breech-cloth and leggins, with no covering for the upper part of his person—a garb offering fewest obstructions to his movements through the forest. In his hand he held a bow; a quiver full of arrows was slung across his back; the tomahawk was returned to the girdle around his loins, and a knife hung by a deer-sinew from his neck.

"The arrow was well aimed," said Arundel, "that saved my life. How can I thank my brother?" "Waqua is satisfied," replied the Indian, in very imperfect English, which we shall not attempt to imitate.