The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane

At the sound of Matthew's voice the beasts raised their heads; then, seeing us, one of them got on his feet and the other sat up on his haunches. Presently he who was on his feet bared his teeth and gave a menacing growl, lashing his tail the while from side to side.

We had taken off our swords above and left them there, as I have said, for fear they should trip us in our descent, so that we had nothing to defend ourselves with against these brutes; nor could I see anything proper for that purpose, the savages having carried off all the Portugals' weapons. So here we stood, within a few bounds of those savage ounces, with no means of attack or defense.

"Don't stir, master, for the love of Heaven," says Matthew; "if we turn tail we shall be cat's-meat for a certainty."

And now the other ounce got on his feet, and, stretching out its neck, showed its teeth, yet without growling, for they were both gorged to their full, and heavy with their food.

Seeing they were not disposed to come at us, Matthew unslings his wine-skin, and, swinging it in his hand, makes pretense to draw nigh them, as if he would take them by surprise; on which the ounces, as not knowing what to make of it, dropped their tails and shrunk back their heads. Then one of them drawing back a pace, the other takes alarm, and, turning round, trots off; and the first, being in no mind to fight, presently does the same, whereupon Matthew, hallooing with all his might, runs after them with such good effect that they set up a howl of terror and were far out of sight ere he had gone a dozen yards.

CHAPTER XLVIII

A GREAT CHANGE IN OUR FORTUNE, WHEREBY I HEAR THE MOST JOYFUL, PLEASING NEWS HEART COULD DESIRE

The jagoaretes being gone, I advanced towards the place where they had been lying, to see what body they had dragged apart from the rest to devour. But ere I had made half a dozen paces I stopped, and the cold sweat burst out again upon my brow on observing, amidst the crushed and blood-blackened fertile plants, a fair pale body that had been stripped of clothing. At a glance I perceived that it was too slight and delicate for the corse of a man, nor could I for a moment think it was the body of a arquebusier and a Portugal. "'Tis she," thinks I, "'tis she. The savages have stripped her sweet body for their vile pleasure, or for the sake of her pretty gown; why else should this one be singled from the other bodies?" I covered my eyes with my hands to shut out the sight of that poor mangled body; yet I saw it still. All hope was gone from me, so that I had no desire to prove the truth of my conviction. Yet presently I felt that I must do my last duty by her and carry her whither those carrion birds and foul beasts might not further mutilate her mortal remains. So with my gorge rising I stepped forward again and uncovered my eyes. One arm had been torn from the trunk, but the head was untouched, and, as I turned my reluctant eyes upon it, my bitter feeling towards Providence for thus cruelly bereaving me of my darling was of a sudden changed to gratitude and thankfulness, for I perceived the face was none but that of the little Portugal boy Don Lewis had given my lady for her page.

Yet I had still my dear lady to find, and so once more I turned me round to scan once more the grizzly scene of havoc. And thus was I standing benumbed with despair when Matthew came briskly to my side, and, taking me by the arm, drew me rapidly on, saying in a low voice:

"Quick, master. Let us get back to the rocks, where we may at least have something to hurl for our defense. For though I count we have not an hour to live, yet will we sell our lives dearly, and die as becomes men."

Saying this he drew me towards a tree, and from that to another, and so to a third, as if seeking the shelter of their trunks. Yet, at the same time, edging away towards the scattered rocks at the foot of the precipice.

"Nay, friend," says I, "what is there to fear? You have scared off the ounces with your hallooing."

"Ay," says he, "and I wish to Heaven I had let 'em sleep on, and played no such silly trick; for in scaring away one enemy I have roused up another, with a plague to me. Behind that tree, master," shoving me to the right, and then adds he, "The ounces were surfeited with their meal; but these others have only had their appetite whetted for carnage."

"Which others?" says I, greatly perplexed, yet going forward as he would have me.

"The Ingas," says he; "I spied one of the naked wretches as I turned about to come back to you. He was squatting amidst the herbage at the back of us; but I reckon they have shifted their place as quick as we, and Lord knows whether we shall get amidst the rocks before they get a fair aim at us with their arrows."

Scarcely had these words passed his lips when an arrow flew past us and stuck in the tree we were about to pass.

"That's a nigh squeak," says Matthew. "Take no notice, master. Push on. If we get to yonder rock we shall have the mountain at our back for a comfort."

Another arrow flew past and stuck in a tree before us.

"That's odd," says Matthew; "they don't use to miss their mark in this manner."

Still making our way towards the rocks, a third arrow flew past with the same effect as before.

"Thrice they've missed us, and thrice hit a tree before us," says Matthew, "and every time on a level with our breasts. If this happens again, 'twill be a sign they are aiming at the trees, and not at us, though with what intent I know not."

As if his words had been heard, a fourth arrow flew by, straight to a tree a dozen paces ahead.

"We must look at that arrow, master," says Matthew. "'Tis on your side; drag it out or break it off as you pass."

Now this business had taken longer in the doing than I have spent in telling, for the rock we were making for lay at some distance, and we made a crooked way thither by reason of bobbing from one tree to another, which was labor we might have spared ourselves, for it only enabled our pursuer to arm his bow the more frequently. I make this explanation because it is the vicious practice of some men to cast doubt upon very true history since it is not of their writing; while others, by reason of their short sight, must have everything pointed out and magnified ere they will believe of its existence; but, Lord, I should never come to an end of this matter were I to set about satisfying every silly caviler. This by the way: now to continue my history.

Going to do Matthew's bidding, I stretched out my hand to lay hold of the arrow sticking in the tree; but ere my fingers touched it I stopped short with a cry of joy.

"Lord love you, master, what's the matter?" cries Matthew.

"Look," says I, pointing to the head of the arrow buried in the soft bark. "Do you see this shred of black lace bound to the shaft?"

"Ay," says he, "and 'tis the first time I ever saw an arrow feathered in that fashion."

"'Tis part of my dear lady's gown," cries I, snatching the arrow away, and pressing the lace to my lips, with a mad hope that she lived, and that this was a token sent by her.

Another arrow, being the fifth thus discharged, shot into the trunk close by the head of the fourth; and now I gave another joyful shout, for round the head of this was bound a little lock of hair that shone in the sun like burnished copper.

"'Tis a lock of her dear hair. My dearest lady, my darling lives! she lives – she lives!" says I, with the same extravagant joy as before. "'Tis a message from her."

"That may be," says Matthew cheerily; "but one thing is certain – the Ingas mean us no harm; for they might have riddled us like so many colanders by this, had they been so minded, for all our care."

Casting our eyes about, we now spied a young Inga (as naked as Adam) standing beside a tree at about a dozen yards off, with a bow in his hand, and a sheaf of arrows, in a long wallet, slung to his shoulder. He cried out something in his own tongue, upon which Matthew (who had got the language by one of his wives) turns to me and says:

"I don't know what this fellow means, master, for he wants to know which of us saved his wife from the Portugals. However, 'tis no good to stand nice about fibs at this time, so I shall tell him you did."

"That you may with truth," says I; "for though 'twas Lady Biddy who enabled the poor woman to get free, yet I struck up the arquebuse which was leveled to shoot her down," as it suddenly came home to my mind that this Indian's wife must be that poor slave my dear lady had set free and I had saved from the shot of the arquebusier. This history I gave to Matthew now, and he gave it again to the Inga, who, not liking this sign of hesitation, asked sternly (still with his arrow on the bow) why he had not answered at once before consulting me.

"Lord love you, master," says Matthew (as he afterwards told me), "Englishmen are so used to practising charity that we had to think a moment to recollect such a trifle as that. I'm an Englishman," he adds hastily, for fear the Inga might be minded to despatch him as having no personal call on his gratitude.

"Ask him," says I, "if Lady Biddy, who had his wife freed from her yoke, lives." When, in response to this question, the Inga bowed his head, I rushed forward with my arms wide to embrace him, for my joy knew no bounds. He let me take his hand in mine, and smiled kindly to see how I was moved; for he also had lost and found, being, as I say, the husband of that poor slave my Lady Biddy had saved. Then from the bottom of his wallet he drew out a piece of the lace my dear lady had given him, and also a thick tress of her hair; showing me that he had yet half a dozen arrows in his sheaf bound like those already shot.

"Master," says Matthew, who had moved up to my side, and was still in a mighty taking lest the Inga should do him a mischief, "while he is in a good humor do you put in a sign or two to signify I am your friend."

So I turned about, and grasped Matthew's hand without pretense (for I felt that I owed him my life and happiness), to show that I loved him much.

The Inga ceased to smile, and regarded Matthew from top to toe in silence; for these hunted Indians have need of all precautions, being so frequently tricked by treacherous Portugals; and he was the more doubtful of Matthew because he spoke the Inga tongue in the manner of those accursed Portugals.

"Oh, Lord!" says Matthew, "he don't like the look of me."

Then the Inga put many searching questions to him sharply, and might more readily have believed his replies but that poor Matthew, being of a quake of his life, did rub his hands together as if he were a-washing them, cringing and smiling like any chandler, which was altogether the wrong way to win over an Inga; for they are a proud race, but not sycophants. However, in the end this Inga laid his hand on Matthew's breast (as he had on mine) for a sign of faith and friendship, which brought a huge sigh of content from the bottom of the honest fellow's heart.

"For," says he, "if we are to go amongst these Indians, I shall stand in need of a friend, lest one of 'em knows me for having married into his family without consent of the parents."

"Ask," says I, "where Lady Biddy lies, and when I shall see her."

When Matthew had put the question, the Inga pointed to the southwest; and then turning his hand towards the sun lowered it to the horizon, to indicate that we should not overtake her before sunset. After looking around him once more searchingly, he bade Matthew be silent, and so led the way down the hillside. But for all this warning Matthew could not help communicating his thoughts to me in a low tone now and then, for he was a generous-hearted fellow in all things, and was as fond of the sound of his own voice as any starling.

"Look you, master," says he, "how gentleness does rule the world above all the craft and cunning of the wicked; for while these sinful Portugals could not compass the ruin of an unprotected maid with all their might, one act of love on her part has brought about their overthrow, and saved us from the arrows of this Inga."

"Ay, Matthew," says I; "and if we take Lady Biddy home to her friends, 'twill be due to your mercy when I lay a prisoner in the guardhouse."

"Mercy!" says he; "'twas nothing of the sort; 'twas but a yearning to hear honest English once more, for not one of my wives could I ever bring to speak it."

In this manner we whispered our thoughts when the difficulty of getting to the bottom of that valley did not interfere.

At length we came down to the side of that river we had passed upon our way to Valetta; and here Matthew begged the Inga to stay awhile and eat a bit of cold roast mutton and a crust of bread with us, as we were pretty nigh spent one way and another, having taken no food since daybreak. The Inga agreed to this, and we shared what was left of our food, and drained the wine-skin.

"Master," says Matthew to the Inga, "are we going to cross the river?"

The Inga nodded.

"I thought as much," says Matthew. "And we're to swim it?"

Again the Inga nodded.

"Now should I be in a bad way but for this wine-skin," says Matthew, "for I can swim no further than a frog may fly."

"And how is your wine-skin to help you, friend?" says I.

He winked his roguish eye, and putting his lips to the empty skin blew into it until it was full of his breath and tight as any blown bladder.

"There," says he, tying up the mouth, "with that in my arms I'll kick myself to the other shore for a wager."

CHAPTER XLIX

MY LADY BIDDY AND I MEET AGAIN, TO OUR JOYFUL CONTENTMENT

About sunset (as the Inga had promised) we came to the place where his tribe were encamped, which was amidst the mountains on the further side of the river, approached by a very intricate winding way, and so encompassed with sharp, high rocks that no man not acquainted with those parts might find his way thither, though he searched a lifetime.

Coming through this tortuous defile to an open space, the Inga, being in advance some paces, suddenly came to a halt, and, turning to me, pointed in silence to a little rising hillock not far distant, where stood my Lady Biddy, shielding her eyes from the rays of the setting sun with her hand, and scanning the valley below.

For a moment my heart stood still, feeling as if it must burst with the great joy that flooded it. I think I must have cried aloud in my gladness (though I know not what I did), for she turned that moment like a startled doe, and came running down the hillock with her hands stretched out. So I flew to her, and we stood clasping each other's hands and gazing into each other's faces, she with a look of gladness in her face, yet a sad reproach in her eyes, as though she would ask me why I had been so long a-coming. But neither of us could say one word; so with a quick impulse, as if our two minds were but one, our silent, trembling lips drew together, and we exchanged the first kiss they had known since we were boy and girl.

This kiss was none but such as a brother and a sister might have shared; 'twas not the passionate overthrow of modesty which covers a maiden's face with blushes, and makes a man's limbs tremble under him; 'twas simply the overflowing of a sweet, innocent affection that can find no other mode of expression. After that kiss we looked in each other's hearts with open, unwinking eyes, and hands still clasped.

"Benet," says she faintly, "how long we have been sundered!"

"Have we?" says I, leading her to a little boulder where there was room for us to sit together.

"Why, an age!" says she, with a return of her usual merry laugh. "Have you not missed me?"

"Now I come to think of it," says I, "there has been trouble in my heart; but my joy is so great to be with you again that the past seems naught but an evil dream. And 'twas no more than a dream, the worst part of it; for one while I imagined you lost beyond recovery, and another while I imagined you dead and eat up by tigers; but this is real, and no idle fancy," holding her sweet fair hand up to look at it and make sure I was not stark mad. "But, Lord," says I, dropping my voice for pity, "'tis much thinner than it was."

"Ay, I shall be a sad old witch to look at ere long," says says she; "'tis well I have no glass to look into."

"Trust me for a faithful mirror," says I, "when I tell you that you never looked so sweet as now."

Indeed, I said no more than the truth, as far as my judgment went in this matter; yet I saw that her face was not so round as of old, and her skin was rarely pale, so that her eyes looked larger, darker, and more lustrous thereby. And thinking how she must have suffered by fright, etc., to have lost flesh and blood in this sort, I was greatly moved with compassion.

"A joyful heart makes a bright face," says she; "but what would it have been like had the Indians come back without you? What would have become of me?"

"Nay," says I, "These Ingas would never have harmed you."

"Is that all?" says she. "Do you think I hold your affection so lightly that I could have lived to forget you?"

Thus might our conversation have run on till she had expressed all that it was in her simple, affectionate heart to say to her kinsman, but that I became silent. For the pressure of her hand and kind looks did stir my smouldering passion and fan it to a flame, so I had much ado to restrain myself from flinging my arms about her waist and drawing her to my breast.

All the love that a warm-souled woman has for a dear brother she wished to bestow on me, but I had more than innocent love in my heart. Still, I had the sense to see that my own happiness, as well as hers, would be blighted if I let my mad desire be known, and I had also the strength to control it (God be praised!). Still, I dared not trust myself too far, and counted it best to let go her hand, and talk of other matters. So getting up, as if I would look about me, I begged her to give me an account of all that had happened to her. Whereupon she rose also, and slipping her hand through my arm walked beside me up and down that pleasant spot, in the waning twilight, telling me of her adventures; how Lewis de Pino had told her I was gone on with the first part of the train, seeming in an ill-humor, which appeared less remarkable to Lady Biddy because I had been particularly dull the day before; how, as they went on and came not up with me, she grew alarmed, yet had no means of discovering whether Lewis de Pino had told the truth or not, and so of force went on, yet with a sinking heart; how, being brought to a stand in that narrow road in the mountain-side by the bridge being gone, they were attacked with arrows from above in such sort that the arquebusiers only succeeded in wounding one of the Ingas, and were themselves shot down one after the other till not a man was left, even to the Indian stripling who served De Pino for a page; how the Indians then coming down from above, she recognized amongst them that poor slave whom she begged De Pino to take from her yoke; and how finally the dead Portugals, being rifled of their arms, were cast down over the precipice, the slaves liberated from their bonds, and they, with my lady (who from first to last had been treated with the utmost respect and courtesy), led back along the mountain-path till they came to a narrow way, by which they descended to the river. Also she told me how with signs she had given the Inga girl to understand her trouble about me, which she (being of a quick wit) readily comprehended, and, bringing forward her husband with further signs, bade her know that I should be sought and brought safely to her, etc. All these particulars agreed so well with what Matthew had suggested, and I have set down, that I need not dwell upon them, but may get on at once with fresh matter.

The light faded away over the western mountains till there was naught but a faint glow beyond the dark peaks, and still we strolled up and down, discoursing to one another of our various fortunes; and so forgetful was I of my late fatigue in the delight of these moments that it did not enter my head for some time that my lady might be weary; but suddenly bethinking myself of my selfish disregard to her comfort I begged to know if she was not weary.

"No," says she gayly; "'tis a relief to talk again, for I was getting heart-sick of silence. But you, Benet? – men do not care to chatter as we women do."

"Nay," says I, "you may be sure that I shall never weary of listening till you weary of talking." And then I ventured to tell her that I counted this the very happiest moment of my life. Upon which she gave my arm a little kindly pressure with her hand, which sent a thrill of inexpossible delight through every nerve of my being.

And so she began to gossip again as merrily as before, which was a great comfort to me, for I could have found never a word to say at this time for the tumult of joy in my heart. I would have lingered there till morning broke, feeling her hand so lightly lying on my arm, and listening to the sweet purling of her gentle voice; but presently spying Matthew, who had drawn up at a respectful distance, and stood there humming and coughing as if he would speak with me, but dared not approach, I bethought me that I had not yet introduced the faithful fellow to Lady Biddy. So I called to him, and when he drew near, scraping and shuffling with his hat in hand, I said:

"This is Lady Biddy Fane, Matthew."

"Your ladyship's humble and obedient servant," says he, with another scrape.

"My cousin has been talking about you, Matthew," says she, offering her hand to him; "and I hope you will forgive me being so tardy in acknowledging my gratitude, for in helping him you have befriended me."

"As for your ladyship's gratitude," says he, "I hope I may yet lay better claim to it; and as for tardy acknowledgment, I count you were better occupied; while as for the rest," adds he, "I wish you joy of your sweetheart."

At these words all the blood rushed into my face, and happy was I there was little light to reveal my confusion to Lady Biddy.

"How?" cries I angrily; "have I ever spoken so disrespectfully of my lady that you should take the liberty to speak of me in this relation?"

"Lord love you, master! no," says he; "but 'twas because you always spoke of her ladyship with such mighty respect that I reckoned she must be something more to you than a cousin. I meant no offence; and, indeed," adds he, with ready wit, "'twould have been but a mean compliment to her ladyship's charms or your understanding if I had set you down for aught but her admirer."

"Ay," says Lady Biddy, laughing, "and so should I." But I observed that she was a little more reserved towards me after this, as if she perceived the imprudence of giving expression to those feelings of simple, innocent affection which I might take for an acknowledgment of warmer sentiment.

CHAPTER L

WE TAKE COUNSEL OF THE INGAS AS TO OUR FUTURE, ETC

Matthew's business was to tell us that the Ingas were waiting to hold council with us. As soon as we heard this we hastened from that pleasant, retired spot where we had been strolling, as I have said, to join them, not without some self-reproach for so slighting those to whom we owed better civility; but, to tell the truth, I had clean forget those good Indians, for where my sweet lady stood was all the world to me, and I was indifferent to all outside it.

Coming beyond those jutting rocks which had screened us from view we perceived the Ingas' camp. They had built a fire upon the further side of a little lake, fed by a stream running from the mountains, in the midst of the hollow, and here sat a score of Indians handling the arquebuses taken from the Portugals, and examining them by the light of the fire. At a little distance a dozen of their women were grouped together on their mats, about a pile of pack-saddles and merchandise. Hard by stood a couple of tents of rush mats, very curiously woven and stained. These objects, lit up by the dancing flames of the fire, with the deep shade of the rocks beyond, were a pleasure to see for all who love pictures of strange things; but that which gave it the finishing touch was an Inga with his spear, who stood on a high rock, keeping guard, and cut the rising moon in two halves with his dark, handsome figure.

When the Indians spied us approaching they rose to their feet, and their captain, coming to meet us with a very noble and courtly carriage, laid his hand on my breast, and I did likewise by him, seeing this was their mode of greeting. Then the Indian woman whose life I had saved came forward and went though the same ceremony; but, this done, she slipped beside my Lady Biddy and began to fondle her hand, stroking it gently, lifting it up to her cheek, etc., which I thought very pretty.