"Uncle Thomas had not the courage to take my side, nor your mother to offer me a refuge—both preferred family peace, and their own comfort to my salvation; they left no other course open to me than that I took. Not even Cousin Thomas, though he wished to befriend me, had the bravery to make a stand on my side against his mother; he, too, was cowed by her domineering spirit—were I a man, I would cringe to no one, not even to the woman that I love."
That last sentence I remembered, and afterwards it helped me to hold my own a little better against Ellen's growing power over me.
"You were most unkindly treated, Ellen, and it will always be a reproach upon us, something for which we must all hang our heads in shame,—but will you not try to forgive them? They have bitterly atoned for the wrong they did you, if unhappiness, and self reproach, can atone."
"Father Gibault says I must freely forgive them ere he can absolve me from the wrong thoughts, and actions of which I too have been guilty," answered Ellen—that catch in her voice, which so often I had recalled to mind, and had never heard in any other woman's—"but I find no consolation in their remorse. In you, Cousin Donald, I have nothing to forgive, you have always been good to me. I am still your friend and comrade, if you wish—though already you are a great and noble man, as I foresaw you would be," and again she gave me that flashing smile which made my head swim.
"And you will go home with Thomas and me when this business is ended?"
"I can never go back to that dreary, solemn valley, where people think of nothing but hard work, and long doleful prayers. As yet I have heard mass but twice, and only once have I been to confession; it seemed to me that the spirit of my dead parents were with me, and it brought me such joy and peace as you cannot conceive. I can never be separated again from the exercise of my religion. In truth I have a solemn and holy purpose set before me, of which I shall tell you, some day. Meantime let us not talk upon this painful subject, Cousin Donald,—life is so good to me now, so full of pure joy, and perfect happiness that I like not to recall the past five years."
CHAPTER XIX
During the months of August and September, Clark was kept busy receiving the Indian deputations which came weekly to Kaskaskia to sue for peace and alliance, with the famed Big-Knives and his warriors. Each visit was an affair of state, and must be received with due ceremony. Did the deputation consist only of the chief of some petty sub-tribe, and two or three warriors, they must have audience at the fort with Colonel Clark himself, surrounded by an armed body-guard; speeches, presents, and wampum belts must be ceremoniously exchanged, and the peace pipe smoked solemnly, after which Clark must tender them a feast.
Born to administer large affairs, Colonel Clark showed in his pacification of the Northwest Indians, a remarkable shrewdness, and knowledge of human nature. He used much the same tactics as those found so successful in dealing with the French:—he over-awed them by dauntlessness of spirit, and a show of far greater strength than he really possessed. When the desired impression had been made upon them, and they had offered alliance, he would adroitly win them to his purposes by friendliness and flattery. He could meet them with a counter stoicism and subtlety that confounded them, and sent them back to their tribes to tell marvelous stories of the great white warrior chief, the redoubtable Big-Knife, whose course of conquest had started at the rising sun, and would be stopped only by the big river towards the sun's lodge. One edict of Colonel Clark well serves to illustrate his far-seeing wisdom, and the extent of his power. He forbade any soldier, any citizen of Kaskaskia, or trader on the river, to sell or to give a single gill of liquor to an Indian within so many miles of the town and fort, under heavy penalties; and the few infringements of this rule were severely punished. Ceremony, presents and feasting were dealt out generously to the savages, but their expectations of fire-water were invariably disappointed. Some of them went away sullen, but there was no rioting in Kaskaskia, and no more bloody fights such as had been customary between panins and Indians.