Our eyes, wandering over the different figures, soon became fixed upon two. They were men, and seated—near each other, and some paces apart from the crowd of dancers. They were Holt and Stebbins. Both were by the side of a large fire, that threw its red light in full glare over them—so that not only their figures, but even the expression upon their features we could distinctly trace. The squatter, pipe in mouth, and with head drooping down almost to his knees, looked grimly into the fire. He was paying no attention to what was passing around him. His thoughts were not there? Stebbins, on the other hand, appeared eagerly to watch the dancers. He was dressed with a degree of adornment; and exhibited a certain patronising attitude, as if master of the sports and ceremonies! Men and women went and came, as if paying court to him; and each was kept for a moment in courtly converse, and then graciously dismissed, with all the ludicrous etiquette of mock ceremonial!
I looked among the dancers—scrutinising each face as it came round to the light. There were girls and women—some of all ages. Even the gross mulatto was “on the floor,” hobbling through the figures of a quadrille. But Lilian? I was disappointed in not seeing her—a disappointment that gratified me. Where was she? Among the spectators? I made a hurried examination of the circle. There were faces fair and young—white teeth and rose-hued cheeks—but not hers. She was not among them! I turned to her sister to make a conjectural inquiry. I saw that the eyes of Marian were fixed upon her father. She was regarding him with a singular expression. I could fancy that some strange reflection was passing through her mind—some wild emotion swelling within her bosom. I refrained from interrupting the current of her thoughts.
Up to this time, the waggon beside which we stood had been dark inside. Suddenly, and, as if by magic, a light flashed within, gleaming through the translucent canvas. A candle had been lighted under the tilt; and now continued to burn steadily. I could not resist the temptation to look under the canvas. Perhaps a presentiment guided me? It needed no disarrangement of the cover. I had only to step a pace to one side and opposite the curtain in the rear of the vehicle. The slight rude hanging had been negligently closed. An interstice left open between the two flaps permitted a fall view of the interior. A number of large boxes and articles of household use filled up the bed of the waggon. Over these had been thrown some coarse garments, and pieces of bed-clothing—blankets, counterpanes, and a bolster or two. Near the forward end, a chest of large dimensions stood higher than the rest; and upon the lid of this a piece of tallow-candle was burning, in the neck of an old bottle! Between the flame of the candle and my eyes a figure intervened, shadowing the rearward part of the waggon. It was a female figure; and, dim as was the light, I could trace the outlines of a lovely silhouette, that could be no other than that of Lilian Holt. A slight movement of the head brought the gleam of golden-hair under the flickering flame; and the features were seen en profile. They were hers. It was Lilian who occupied the waggon. She was alone—though in front of the vehicle, I could see forms not distant from where she sat. Young men were loitering there. Ardent glances were directed towards her. She appeared desirous of shunning them. She held in her hands a book. One might have fancied she was reading it: for it was open. But the light fell sparingly on the page; and her stealthy glances towards it told, something else than the book was occupying her attention. A piece of detached paper that gleamed whiter between the leaves, was evidently the object of her solicitude. It was the writing upon that she was trying to decipher. I watched with eager glance. I noted every movement of the fair reader. Marian had joined me. We both watched together.
It required an effort to restrain ourselves from speech. A word would have been worth all this writing; but it might also have ruined everything. They who stood in front of the waggon might hear that word. It was not spoken. Lilian was evidently embarrassed by the presence of these young men; and cast uneasy glances towards them as she read. Perhaps the restraint thus placed upon her hindered any violent show of emotion, which the writing on the paper might have called forth. A short suppressed sigh, as she finished reading; a quick searching glance among the groups in front—another, shot stealthily towards the rear of the waggon—this was all in her manner that might have appeared unusual. I waited till her eyes were again turned rearward; and then, gently parting the canvas flaps, I held Marian’s note between my fingers inside the curtain. The apparition of my red-hand did not cause an alarm. The poem had paved the way for the more prosaic epistle: and neither scream nor start was occasioned by its delivery. As soon as I saw that the piece of paper was observed, I dropped it among the boxes, and withdrew my hand. The fear that we might have been noticed standing too long in one place, influenced us to move away. If fortune should favour the reading of that note, on our return we might find our scheme much more ripe for execution. With this reflection, we glided silently from the spot.
Chapter One Hundred Two.
To Horse and away.
Our absence was of short duration—a turn to the tents and back again. While there, I had spoken a word to Wingrove and Sure-shot. Archilete was still absent. I had warned my comrades not to picket our horses at too great a distance from the tents: as we knew not how soon we might need them. Little thought I, as I delivered this cautionary counsel, that within the hour—nay, almost within that minute—we should be hastening to mount and be gone! Our idea had been that some time about midnight—perhaps later—when the camp should be buried in sleep—Lilian, already warned that we were in wait for her, would steal forth and join us at the tents. Thence, trusting to the speed of our horses, we should find no difficulty in escaping—even though pursuit might be given on the instant of our departure. We were all well-mounted—as well, at least, as the Mormons could be—and with a guide who knew the passes, we should have the advantage of them.
It did not occur to Marian or myself, that that very moment might have been more appropriate for flight, than the hour of midnight or any other. Then, in the midst of their noisy revelry, when all eyes were turned upon the dance, and souls absorbed in the giddy whirl of pleasure—when slight sounds were unnoticed amidst the swelling music and the clangour of voices—when even the hoof-stroke of a galloping horse would have fallen unheard or unheeded—then, indeed, would have been the very time for our designed abduction! The idea did not occur to either of us. I cannot tell why it did not: unless it was that we were hindered from thinking of final measures, by our uncertainty as to the disposition of Lilian. Her consent was now the most important condition to our success—as her refusal would be its grandest obstacle. Surely she would not refuse? We could not for a moment harbour the apprehension. By this time she must have read the letter? We could now safely speak face to face with her—that is, if opportunity should be found for an interview. To seek that opportunity, therefore, were we returning a second time to the rear of the waggons. The candle was yet burning under the tilt. Its flame feebly illuminated the canvas. We drew near with stealthy tread, taking notice that we were not observed. We stood once more by the end of the huge vehicle. We were raising our eyes to look through the curtain, when at that instant the light went out. Some one had suddenly extinguished it! One might have regarded this as an ill omen; but, the moment after, we could hear a slight rustling sound—as of some one moving under the cover of the waggon, and passing along towards its hinder end. We stood silent, listening to the sound. It ceased at length; but, immediately after, the edge of the curtain was raised slowly, and without noise. A face appeared in the opening! There was scarcely any light; but even through the grim darkness that lovely face gleamed soft and white. Marian stood nearest, and easily recognised it. In a tender tone she pronounced the magic word: “Sister!”