Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled. Major Richardson
of the indescribable look she had bestowed upon him glowing at his heart, Gerald again sought in her eyes some trace of the expression that had stirred every vein into transport, he found there indifference the most complete. How great his mortification was, we will not venture to describe, but the arch and occasional raillery of his lively cousin, Julia D'Egville, seemed to denote most plainly that the conqueror and the conquered had exchanged positions.
Nor was this surprising; Miss Montgomerie's travelling habit had been discarded for the more decorative ornaments of a dinner toilet, in which, however, the most marked simplicity was observed. A plain white muslin dress gave full development to a person which was of a perfection that no dress could have disguised. It was the bust of a Venus, united to a form, to create which would have taxed the imaginative powers of a Praxiteles—a form so faultlessly moulded, that every movement presented some new and unpremeditated grace. What added to the surpassing richness of her beauty was her hair, which, black, glossy, and of eastern luxuriance, and seemingly disdaining the girlishness of curls, reposed in broad Grecian bands across a brow, the intellectual expression of which they contributed to form. Yet never did woman exhibit in her person and face more opposite extremes of beauty. If the one was strikingly characteristic of warmth, the other was no less indicative of coldness. Fair, even to paleness, were her cheek and forehead, which wore an appearance of almost marble immobility, save when, in moments of oft recurring abstraction, a slight but marked contraction of the brow betrayed the existence of a feeling, indefinable indeed to the observer, but certainly unallied to softness. Still she was beautiful—coldly, classically, beautiful—eminently calculated to inspire passion, but seemingly incapable of feeling it.
The coldness of Miss Montgomerie's manner was no less remarkable. Her whole demeanor was one of abstraction. It seemed as if heedless, not only of ceremony, but of courtesy, her thoughts and feelings were far from the board of whose hospitality she was partaking. Indeed, the very few remarks she made during dinner referred to the period of departure of the boat, in which she was to be conveyed to Detroit, and on this subject she displayed an earnestness, which, even Grantham thought, might have been suppressed in the presence of his uncle's family. Perhaps he felt piqued at her readiness to leave him.
Under these circumstances, the dinner was not, as might be expected, particularly gay. There was an embarrassment among all, which even the circulating wine did not wholly remove. Major Montgomerie was nearly as silent as his niece. Mrs. D'Egville, although evincing all the kindness of her really benevolent nature—a task in which she was assisted by her amiable daughters—still felt that the reserve of her guest insensibly produced a corresponding effect upon herself; while Colonel D'Egville, gay, polished, and attentive, as he usually was, could not wholly overcome an apprehension that the introduction of the Indian chiefs had given offence to both uncle and niece. Still, it was impossible to have acted otherwise. Independently of his strong personal attachment to Tecumseh, considerations involving the safety of the province, threatened as it was, strongly demanded that the leading chiefs should be treated with the respect due to their station; and moreover, while General Brock and Commodore Barclay were present, there could be no ground for an impression that slight was intended. Both these officers saw the difficulty under which their host labored, and sought by every gentlemanly attention, to remove whatever unpleasantness might lurk in the feelings of his American guests.
The dessert brought with it but little addition to the animation of the party, and it was a relief to all, when, after a toast proposed by the general to the "Ladies of America," Mrs. D'Egville made the usual signal for withdrawing.
As soon as they had departed, followed a moment or two afterwards by Tecumseh and Gerald Grantham, Messieurs Split-log, Round-head, and Walk-in-the-water, deliberately taking their pipe-bowl tomahawks from their belts, proceeded to fill them with kinni-kinnick, a mixture of Virginia tobacco and odoriferous herbs, than which no perfume can be more fragrant. Amid the clouds of smoke puffed from these at the lower end of the table, where had been placed a supply of whiskey, their favorite liquor—did Colonel D'Egville and his more civilized guests quaff their claret; more gratified than annoyed by the savoury atmosphere wreathing around them, while, taking advantage of the early departure of the abstemious Tecumseh, they discussed the merits of that chief, and the policy of employing the Indians as allies, as will be seen in the following chapter.
CHAPTER VI.
"What a truly noble looking being!" observed Major Montgomerie, as he followed with his eye the receding form of the athletic but graceful Tecumseh. "Do you know, Colonel D'Egville, I could almost forgive your nephew his success of this morning, in consideration of the pleasure he has procured me in this meeting."
Colonel D'Egville looked the gratification he felt at the avowal. "I am delighted, Major Montgomerie, to hear you say so. My only fear was that, in making those chieftains my guests at the same moment with yourself and niece, I might have unconsciously appeared to slight, where slight was certainly not intended. You must be aware, however, of the rank held by them among their respective nations, and of their consequent claim upon the attention of one to whom the Indian interests have been delegated."
"My dear sir," interrupted the Major, eager to disclaim, "I trust you have not mistaken me so far, as to have imputed a reserve of speech and manner during dinner, to which I cannot but plead guilty, to a fastidiousness which, situated as I am, (and he bowed to the general and commodore,) would have been wholly misplaced. My distraction, pardonable perhaps under all the circumstances, was produced entirely by a recurrence to certain inconveniences which I felt might arise to me from my imprisonment. The captive bird," he pursued, while a smile for the first time animated his very fine countenance, "will pine within its cage, however gilded the wires which compose it. In every sense, my experience of to-day only leads me to the expression of a hope, that all whom the chances of war may throw into a similar position, may meet with a similar reception."
"Since," observed the General, "your private affairs are of the importance you express, Major Montgomerie, you shall depart with your niece. Perhaps I am rather exceeding my powers in this respect, but, however this may be, I shall take the responsibility on myself. You will hold yourself pledged, of course, to take no part against us in the forthcoming struggle, until you have been regularly exchanged for whatever officer of your own rank, may happen to fall into the hands of your countrymen. I shall dispatch an express to the Commander in-Chief, to intimate this fact, requesting at the same time, that your name may be put down in the first list for exchange."
Major Montgomerie warmly thanked the General for his kind offer, of which he said he should be glad to avail himself, as he did not like the idea of his niece proceeding without him to Detroit, where she was an entire stranger. This, he admitted, determined as she had appeared to be, was one of the unpleasant subjects of his reflection during dinner.
With a view of turning the conversation, and anxious moreover, to obtain every information on the subject, the general now inquired in what estimation Tecumseh was generally held in the United States.
"Among the more intelligent classes of our citizens, in the highest possible," was the reply; "but by those who are not so capable of judging, and who only see, in the indomitable courage and elevated talents of the patriot hero, the stubborn inflexibility of the mere savage, he is looked upon far less flatteringly. By all, however, is he admitted to be formidable without parallel, in the history of Indian warfare. His deeds are familiar to all, and his name is much such a bugbear to American childhood, as Marlborough's was in France, and Napoleon's is in England. It is a source of much regret to our Government never to have been enabled to conciliate this extraordinary man."
"What more feasible," remarked the General, but with a tone and manner that could not possibly give offence; "had not the difficulty been of its own creation? Treaty after treaty, you must admit, major, had been made and violated under various pretexts, while the real motive—the aggrandizement of territories already embracing a vast portion of their early possessions—was carefully sought to be concealed from these unfortunate people. How was it to be expected then that a man, whom the necessities of his country had raised up