CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEATH BED.
Anxiously, as the sun was going down, did Mrs. Wilder watch from her window for the return of her daughter, and as the gray twilight deepened into night, and still she came not, the whole household was alarmed, and every house in the settlement was visited, to learn, if possible, some tidings of the wanderer. Some remembered having seen her enter the woods soon after dinner, but farther than that none could tell; and the loud, shrill cry of “Lost! Lost! A child lost in the woods!” echoed on the evening air, and brought from a distance many who joined in the unsuccessful search, which lasted all night. Morning came, and Mrs. Wilder, pale and distracted with grief, ran hither and thither, calling loudly for her lost darling.
Three hours of the sun’s daily journey was accomplished, when a young Indian was seen to emerge from the woods, and rapidly approach the house of Capt. Wilder, where he communicated all he knew concerning Orianna, and ended his narrative by saying, “It will be useless to follow her.”
But Capt. Wilder did not think so, and instantly mounting his horse, he started in pursuit; but the path he took was entirely different from the one chosen by Orianna, and at nightfall he returned home, weary and discouraged. For some time he had been contemplating a visit to his brother, and he now resolved to do so, hoping by this means to fall in with the fugitives. Mrs. Wilder warmly approved the plan, but made him promise that if no good news were heard of Ella, he would instantly return.
Taking with him two negroes, he started on his journey, but no trace of Orianna did he discover, and he reached Glen’s Creek before she had accomplished half the distance. Assured by his brother’s family of Ella’s perfect safety with the Indian girl, he grew calm, although he impatiently waited their coming.
Meantime little Charlie had grown worse, until at last he ceased to speak of Ella, although he confidently expected to see her, and requested that his bed might be moved to a position from which he could discern the path which led up from the woods. There for many days he watched, and then turning sadly away, he said, “Mother, now take me back. Ella will come, but I shall be dead.”
From that time he grew worse, and the afternoon on which we left Orianna and Ella in the woods was the last he ever saw on earth. Gathered around the dying boy were weeping friends, who knew that the mild spring sun which so gently kissed his cold, pale brow, would never rise again for him. Kind words he had spoken to all, and then in a faint whisper, he said, “Tell Ella ——;” but the sentence was unfinished, for Ella stood before him, while the look of joy that lighted up his face told how dear to him was the little girl around whose neck his arms twined so lovingly.
And now a darker face, but no less loving heart approached, and whispered softly, “Charlie, do you know me?”
“Orianna,” was the answer, as on her lips a kiss was pressed.
Then the arms unclasped from Ella’s neck, over the blue eyes the heavy eyelids closed, and Charlie had gone home. With a bitter wail of sorrow Orianna bent for a moment over the marble form, for which she had sacrificed so much, and then, from among those who fain would have detained her, she went, nor paused a moment until the wigwam of her father was reached.