“But there is a sympathy that makes me feel her heart in my own,” rejoined Semitzin. “Love is a thing that pierces through time, and through barriers which separate the mind and memory of the past from the present. I—as you know, Kamaiakan—was never wedded; the fate of our people, and my early end, kept that from me. But the thought of that youth is here,”—she put her hand on her bosom,—“and it seems to me that, were we to meet, I should know him. Perhaps, were that to be, Miriam and I might thus come to be aware of each other, and live henceforth one life.”
“Such matters are beyond my knowledge,” said the Indian, shaking his head. “The gods know what will be. It is for us, now, to regain the treasure. Are you willing, my princess, to accompany me thither?”
“I am ready. Shall it be now?”
“Not now, but soon. I will call you when the moment comes. The place is but a ride of two or three hours from here. None must know of our departure, for there are some here whom I do not trust. We must go by night. You will wear the garments you now have on, without which all might miscarry.”
“How can the garments affect the result, Kamaiakan?”
“A powerful spell is laid upon them, princess. Moreover, the characters wrought upon them, with gold thread and jewels, are mystical, and the substance of the garment itself has a virtue to preserve the wearer from evil. It is the same that was worn by you when the treasure was hidden; and it may be, Semitzin, that without its magic aid your spirit could not know itself in this world as now it can.”
As he spoke the last words, a low sound, wandering and muttering with an inward note, came palpitating on their ears through the night air. It seemed to approach from no direction that could be identified, yet it was at first remote, and then came nearer, and in a moment trembled around them, and shivered in the solid earth beneath their feet; and in another instant it had passed on, and was subdued slowly into silence in the shadowy distance. No one who has once heard that sound can mistake it for any other, or ever can forget it. The air had suddenly become close and tense; and now a long breeze swept like a sigh through the garden, dying away in a long-drawn wail; and out of the west came a hollow murmur, like that of a mighty wave breaking upon the shore of the ocean.
“The earthquake!” whispered Kamaiakan, rising to his feet. And then he pointed to the stone basin. “Look! the spring!”
“It is gone!” exclaimed Semitzin.
And, in truth, the water, with a strange, sucking noise, disappeared through the bottom of the basin, leaving the glistening cavity which had held it, green with slimy water-weed, empty.