"Eric Hamilton, are you mad?" I cried. "What do you mean?"
But Hamilton stood motionless as if he saw none of us. Except that his breath was labored3, he wore precisely4 the same strange, distracted air he had on entering the club.
"Hold back!" I implored5; for Adderly was striking right and left to get free from the men. "Hold back! There's a mistake! Something's wrong!"
"There's a mistake," I shouted, above the clamor of exclamations8.
"Glad the mistake landed where it did, all the same," whispered Uncle Jack9 MacKenzie in my ear, "but get him out of this. Drunk—or a scandal," says my uncle, who always expressed[Pg 24] himself in explosives when excited. "Side room—here—lead him in—drunk—by Jove—drunk!"
"Never," I returned passionately10. I knew both Hamilton and his wife too well to tolerate either insinuation. But we led him like a dazed being into a side office, where Mr. Jack MacKenzie promptly11 turned the key and took up a posture12 with his back against the door.
"Now, Sir," he broke out sternly, "if it's neither drink, nor a scandal——" There, he stopped; for Hamilton, utterly13 unconscious of us, moved, rather than walked, automatically across the room. Throwing his hat down, he bowed his head over both arms above the mantel-piece.
My uncle and I looked from the silent man to each other. Raising his brows in question, Mr. Jack MacKenzie touched his forehead and whispered across to me—"Mad?"
At that, though the word was spoken barely above a breath, Eric turned slowly round and faced us with blood-shot, gleaming eyes. He made as though he would speak, sank into the armchair before the grate and pressed both hands against his forehead.
"Mad," he repeated in a voice low as a moan, framing his words slowly and with great effort. "By Jove, men, you should know me better than to mouth such rot under your breath. To-night, I'd sell my soul, sell my soul to be mad, really mad, to know that all I think has happened, hadn't happened at all—" and his speech was broken by a sharp intake14 of breath.[Pg 25]
"Out with it, man, for the Lord's sake," shouted my uncle, now convinced that Eric was not drunk and jumping to conclusions—as he was wont15 to do when excited—regarding a possible scandal.
"Out with it, man! We'll stand by you! Has that blasted red-faced turkey——"
"Pray, spare your histrionics, for the present," Eric cut in with the icy self-possession bred by a lifetime's danger, dispelling17 my uncle's second suspicion with a quiet scorn that revealed nothing.
"Did I strike somebody?" asked Hamilton absently.
Again my uncle flashed a questioning look at me, but this time his face showed his conviction so plainly no word was needed.
"Did I strike somebody? Wish you'd apologize——"
"Apologize!" thundered my uncle. "I'll do nothing of the kind. Served him right. 'Twas a pretty way, a pretty way, indeed, to speak of any man's wife——" But the word "wife" had not been uttered before Eric threw out his hands in an imploring19 gesture.
"Don't!" he cried out sharply in the suffering tone of a man under the operating knife. "Don't! It all comes back! It is true! It is true! I can't get away from it! It is no nightmare. My God, men, how can I tell you? There's no way of saying it! It is impossible—preposterous—some monstrous20 joke—it's quite impossible I tell[Pg 26] you—it couldn't have happened—such things don't happen—couldn't happen—to her—of all women! But she's gone—she's gone——"
"See here, Hamilton," cried my uncle, utterly beside himself with excitement, "are we to understand you are talking of your wife, or—or some other woman?"
"See here, Hamilton," I reiterated21, quite heedless of the brutality22 of our questions and with a thousand wild suspicions flashing into my mind. "Is it your wife, Miriam, and your boy?"
But he heard neither of us.
"They were there—they waved to me from the garden at the edge of the woods as I entered the forest. Only this morning, both waving to me as I rode away—and when I returned from the city at noon, they were gone! I looked to the window as I came back. The curtain moved and I thought my boy was hiding, but it was only the wind. We've searched every nook from cellar to attic23. His toys were littered about and I fancied I heard his voice everywhere, but no! No—no—and we've been hunting house and garden for hours——"
"And the forest?" questioned Uncle Jack, the trapper instinct of former days suddenly re-awakening.
"The forest is waist-deep with snow! Besides we beat through the bush everywhere, and there wasn't a track, nor broken twig24, where they could have passed." His torn clothes bore evidence to the thoroughness of that search.[Pg 27]
"Nonsense," my uncle burst out, beginning to bluster25. "They've been driven to town without leaving word!"
"But the road, Eric?" I questioned, recalling how the old manor-house stood well back in the center of a cleared plateau in the forest. "Couldn't they have gone down the road to those Indian encampments?"
"The road is impassable for sleighs, let alone walking, and their winter wraps are all in the house. For Heaven's sake, men, suggest something! Don't madden me with these useless questions!"
But in spite of Eric's entreaty27 my excitable kinsman subjected the frenzied28 man to such a fire of questions as might have sublimated29 pre-natal knowledge. And I stood back listening and pieced the distracted, broken answers into some sort of coherency till the whole tragic30 scene at the Chateau on that spring day of the year 1815, became ineffaceably stamped on my memory.
Causeless, with neither warning nor the slightest premonition of danger, the greatest curse which can befall a man came upon my friend Eric Hamilton. However fond a husband may be, there are things worse for his wife than death which he may well dread31, and it was one of these tragedies which almost drove poor Hamilton out of his reason and changed the whole course of my own life. In broad daylight, his young wife and[Pg 28] infant son disappeared as suddenly and completely as if blotted32 out of existence.
That morning, Eric light-heartedly kissed wife and child good-by and waved them a farewell that was to be the last. He rode down the winding33 forest path to Quebec and they stood where the Chateau garden merged34 into the forest of Charlesbourg Mountain. At noon, when he returned, for him there existed neither wife nor child. For any trace of them that could be found, both might have been supernaturally spirited away. The great house, that had re-echoed to the boy's prattle35, was deathly still; and neither wife, nor child, answered his call. The nurse was summoned. She was positive Madame was amusing the boy across the hall, and reassuringly36 bustled37 off to find mother and son in the next room, and the next, and yet the next; to discover each in succession empty.
Alarm spread to the Chateau servants. The simple habitant maids were questioned, but their only response was white-faced, blank amazement38.
Madame not returned!
Madame not back!
Mon Dieu! What had happened? And all the superstition39 of hillside lore6 added to the fear on each anxious face. Shortly after Monsieur went to the city, Madame had taken her little son out as usual for a morning airing, and had been seen walking up and down the paths tracked through the garden snow. Had Monsieur examined the clearing between the house and the[Pg 29] forest? Monsieur could see for himself the snow was too deep and crusty among the trees for Madame to go twenty paces into the woods. Besides, foot-marks could be traced from the garden to the bush. He need not fear wild animals. They were receding41 into the mountains as spring advanced. Let him take another look about the open; and Hamilton tore out-doors, followed by the whole household; but from the Chateau in the center of the glade42 to the encircling border of snow-laden evergreens43 there was no trace of wife or child.
Then Eric laughed at his own growing fears. Miriam must be in the house. So the search of the old hall, that had once resounded44 to the drunken tread of gay French grandees45, began again. From hidden chamber46 in the vaulted47 cellar to attic rooms above, not a corner of the Chateau was left unexplored. Had any one come and driven her to the city? But that was impossible. The roads were drifted the height of a horse and there were no marks of sleigh runners on either side of the riding path. Could she possibly have ventured a few yards down the main road to an encampment of Indians, whose squaws after Indian custom made much of the white baby? Neither did that suggestion bring relief; for the Indians had broken camp early in the morning and there was only a dirty patch of littered snow, where the wigwams had been.
The alarm now became a panic. Hamilton, half-crazed and unable to believe his own senses,[Pg 30] began wondering whether he had nightmare. He thought he might waken up presently and find the dead weight smothering49 his chest had been the boy snuggling close. He was vaguely50 conscious it was strange of him to continue sleeping with that noise of shouting men and whining51 hounds and snapping branches going on in the forest. The child's lightest cry generally broke the spell of a nightmare; but the din16 of terrified searchers rushing through the woods and of echoes rolling eerily52 back from the white hills convinced him this was no dream-land. Then, the distinct crackle of trampled53 brushwood and the scratch of spines54 across his face called him back to an unendurable reality.
"The thing is utterly impossible, Hamilton," I cried, when in short jerky sentences, as if afraid to give thought rein55, he had answered my uncle's questioning. "Impossible! Utterly impossible!"
"I would to God it were!" he moaned.
"It was daylight, Eric?" asked Mr. Jack MacKenzie.
"And she couldn't be lost in Charlesbourg forest?" I added, taking up the interrogations where my uncle left off.
"No trace—not a footprint!"
"And you're quite sure she isn't in the house?" replied my relative.
"Quite!" he answered passionately.
"And there was an Indian encampment a few[Pg 31] yards down the road?" continued Mr. MacKenzie, undeterred.
"Oh! What has that to do with it?" he asked petulantly57, springing to his feet. "They'd moved off long before I went back. Besides, Indians don't run off with white women. Haven't I spent my life among them? I should know their ways!"
"But my dear fellow!" responded the elder trader, "so do I know their ways. If she isn't in the Chateau and isn't in the woods and isn't in the garden, can't you see, the Indian encampment is the only possible explanation?"
The lines on his face deepened. Fire flashed from his gleaming eyes, and if ever I have seen murder written on the countenance58 of man, it was on Hamilton's.
"What tribe were they, anyway?" I asked, trying to speak indifferently, for every question was knife-play on a wound.
"Mongrel curs, neither one thing nor the other, Iroquois canoemen, French half-breeds intermarried with Sioux squaws! They're all connected with the North-West Company's crews. The Nor'-Westers leave here for Fort William when the ice breaks up. This riff-raff will follow in their own dug-outs!"
"Know any of them?" persisted my uncle.
"No, I don't think I—Let me see! By Jove! Yes, Gillespie!" he shouted, "Le Grand Diable was among them!"
"What about Diable?" I asked, pinning him[Pg 32] down to the subject, for his mind was lost in angry memories.
"What about him? He's my one enemy among the Indians," he answered in tones thick and ominously59 low. "I thrashed him within an inch of his life at Isle60 à la Crosse. Being a Nor'-Wester, he thought it fine game to pillage61 the kit62 of a Hudson's Bay; so he stole a silver-mounted fowling-piece which my grandfather had at Culloden. By Jove, Gillespie! The Nor'-Westers have a deal of blood to answer for, stirring up those Indians against traders; and if they've brought this on me——"
"Did you get it back?" I interrupted, referring to the fowling-piece, neither my uncle, nor I, offering any defense63 for the Nor'-Westers. I knew there were two sides to this complaint from a Hudson's Bay man.
"No! That's why I nearly finished him; but the more I clubbed, the more he jabbered64 impertinence, 'Cooloo! cooloo! qu' importe! It doesn't matter!' By Jove! I made it matter!"
"Is that all about Diable, Eric?" continued my uncle.
He ran his fingers distractedly back through his long, black hair, rose, and, coming over to me, laid a trembling hand on each shoulder.
"Gillespie!" he muttered through hard-set teeth. "It isn't all. I didn't think at the time, but the morning after the row with that red devil I found a dagger65 stuck on the outside of my hut-door. The point was through a fresh[Pg 33] sprouted66 leaflet. A withered67 twig hung over the blade."
"Man! Are you mad?" cried Jack MacKenzie. "He must be the very devil himself. You weren't married then—He couldn't mean——"
"I thought it was an Indian threat," interjected Hamilton, "that if I had downed him in the fall, when the branches were bare, he meant to have his revenge in spring when the leaves were green; but you know I left the country that fall."
"You were wrong, Eric!" I blurted68 out impetuously, the terrible significance of that threat dawning upon me. "That wasn't the meaning at all."
Then I stopped; for Hamilton was like a palsied man, and no one asked what those tokens of a leaflet pierced by a dagger and an old branch hanging to the knife might mean.
Mr. Jack MacKenzie was the first to pull himself together.
"Come," he shouted. "Gather up your wits! To the camping ground!" and he threw open the door.
Thereupon, we three flung through the club-room to the astonishment69 of the gossips, who had been waiting outside for developments in the quarrel with Colonel Adderly. At the outer porch, Hamilton laid a hand on Mr. MacKenzie's shoulder.
"Don't come," he begged hurriedly. "There's a storm blowing. It's rough weather, and a rough[Pg 34] road, full of drifts! Make my peace with the man I struck."
Then Eric and I whisked out into the blackness of a boisterous70, windy night. A moment later, our horses were dashing over iced cobble-stones with the clatter71 of pistol-shots.
"It will snow," said I, feeling a few flakes72 driven through the darkness against my face; but to this remark Hamilton was heedless.
"It will snow, Eric," I repeated. "The wind's veered73 north. We must get out to the camp before all traces are covered. How far by the Beauport road?"
"Five miles," said he, and I knew by the sudden scream and plunge74 of his horse that spurs were dug into raw sides. We turned down that steep, break-neck, tortuous75 street leading from Upper Town to the valley of the St. Charles. The wet thaw76 of mid-day had frozen and the road was slippery as a toboggan slide. We reined77 our horses in tightly, to prevent a perilous78 stumbling of fore-feet, and by zigzagging79 from side to side managed to reach the foot of the hill without a single fall. Here, we again gave them the bit; and we were presently thundering across the bridge in a way that brought the keeper out cursing and yelling for his toll80. I tossed a coin over my shoulder and we galloped81 up the elm-lined avenue leading to that Charlesbourg retreat, where French Bacchanalians caroused82 before the British conquest, passed the thatch-roofed cots of habitants and, turning suddenly to the right, followed[Pg 35] a seldom frequented road, where snow was drifted heavily. Here we had to slacken pace, our beasts sinking to their haunches and snorting through the white billows like a modern snow-plow.
Hamilton had spoken not a word.
Clouds were massing on the north. Overhead a few stars glittered against the black, and the angry wind had the most mournful wail83 I have ever heard. How the weird84 undertones came like the cries of a tortured child, and the loud gusts85 with the shriek86 of demons87!
"Gillespie," called Eric's voice tremulous with anguish88, "listen—Rufus—listen! Do you hear anything? Do you hear any one calling for help? Is that a child crying?"
"No, Eric, old man," said I, shivering in my saddle. "I hear—I hear nothing at all but the wind."
But my hesitancy belied89 the truth of that answer; for we both heard sounds, which no one can interpret but he whose well beloved is lost in the storm.
And the wind burst upon us again, catching90 my empty denial and tossing the words to upper air with eldritch laughter. Then there was a lull91, and I felt rather than heard the choking back of stifled92 moans and knew that the man by my side, who had held iron grip of himself before other eyes, was now giving vent48 to grief in the blackness of night.
At last a red light gleamed from the window of[Pg 36] a low cot. That was the signal for us to turn abruptly93 to the left, entering the forest by a narrow bridle-path that twisted among the cedars94. As if to look down in pity, the moon shone for a moment above the ragged95 edge of a storm cloud, and all the snow-laden evergreens stood out stately, shadowy and spectral96, like mourners for the dead.
Again the road took to right-about at a sharp angle and the broad Chateau, with its noble portico97 and numerous windows all alight, suddenly loomed98 up in the center of a forest-clearing on the mountain side. Where the path to the garden crossed a frozen stream was a small open space. Here the Indians had been encamped. We hallooed for servants and by lantern light examined every square inch of the smoked snow and rubbish heaps. Bits of tin in profusion99, stones for the fire, tent canvas, ends of ropes and tattered100 rags lay everywhere over the black patch. Snow was beginning to fall heavily in great flakes that obscured earth and air. Not a thing had we found to indicate any trace of the lost woman and child, until I caught sight of a tiny, blue string beneath a piece of rusty40 metal. Kicking the tin aside, I caught the ribbon up. When I saw on the lower end a child's finely beaded moccasin, I confess I had rather felt the point of Le Grand Diable's dagger at my own heart than have shown that simple thing to Hamilton.
Then the snow-storm broke upon us in white billows blotting101 out everything. We spread a[Pg 37] sheet on the ground to preserve any marks of the campers, but the drifting wind drove us indoors and we were compelled to cease searching. All night long Eric and I sat before the roaring grate fire of the hunting-room, he leaning forward with chin in his palms and saying few words, I offering futile102 suggestions and uttering mad threats, but both utterly at a loss what to do. We knew enough of Indian character to know what not to do. That was, raise an outcry, which might hasten the cruelty of Le Grand Diable.
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1
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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9
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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dispelling
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的现在分词 ) | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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sublimated
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| v.（使某物质）升华( sublimate的过去式和过去分词 )；使净化；纯化 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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45
grandees
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| n.贵族，大公，显贵者( grandee的名词复数 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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49
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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51
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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52
eerily
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| adv.引起神秘感或害怕地 | |
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53
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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petulantly
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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jabbered
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| v.急切而含混不清地说( jabber的过去式和过去分词 )；急促兴奋地说话 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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caroused
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| v.痛饮，闹饮欢宴( carouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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98
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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99
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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100
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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101
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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102
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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