“Why, I think it will be simple enough.”
The man left the table and came to the woman’s side. He laid one hand caressingly on her black hair, and she responded with a smiling upward glance of devotion. “See, you must tell her I want to speak with her. I can’t go to her. My presence at the farm is not welcome for one thing,” he said bitterly, “and, for another, in this matter I must not be seen anywhere near her. I’ve considered this thing well. She mustn’t come here either. No.”
He spoke reflectively, biting his long, fair moustache in that nervous way he so often betrayed.
“You, my Wana, must see her openly at the farm. You must tell her that I shall be in the river woods just below the bridge, cutting wood at sundown on Monday. That’s three days from now. She must come to me without being seen, and without letting any one know of her visit. The danger for me, for us, my Wana, is great, and so you must be extra 140 careful for all our sakes—and so must she. Then I will tell her all, and advise her.”
The woman’s eyes had never left his face. The trust and confidence her look expressed were almost touching. She did not question. She did not ask why she could not give the girl her warning. Yes, she understood. The proceeding appealed to her nature, for there is no being in the world to compare with the Indian when native cunning is required. She could do this thing. Was it not for Rosebud? But, above all, was it not for him? The honest man rarely puts faith in a woman’s capacity outside her domestic and social duties. The rascal is shrewder.
“It is a good way,” she said, in her deep, soft voice, after much thought. “And I go—yes. I tell her. I say to her that she must not speak. And she say ’yes.’ I know Rosebud. She clever too. She no child.” She paused, and the man moved away to his seat. She looked over at him and presently went on. “Rosebud, she love Seth. I know.”
Nevil suddenly swung round. Only the blind eyes of love could have failed to detect the absolute look of triumph which had leapt to the man’s face. Wanaha mistook the look for one of pleasure, and went on accordingly, feeling that she had struck the right note.
“Yes. And Seth, he love too. They are to each as the Sun and the Moon. But they not know this thing. She think Seth think she like sister. Like Black Fox and your Wana. But I know. I love 141 my man, so I see with live eyes. Yes, these love. So.” And the dark eyes melted with a consuming love for the man she was addressing.
Nevil sprang from his seat, and, crossing to the dark princess, kissed her with unwonted ardor.
“Good, my Wana; you are a gem. You see where I am blind.” And for once he was perfectly sincere.