Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter. A Forest Romance Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  AN APPALLING VISITOR.

  One bright September day, after David Wilde had been gone about aweek with his raft, a wood-cutter came to the cabin with bad news. Heinformed Alice that the woods were on fire two or three miles back,and that the wind was driving the fire in a broad belt of a mile widedirectly toward the house; that if the wind did not subside with thesetting of the sun, nothing could preserve the place from destructionby the middle of the next day. Alice had been sitting at the window,thinking how delicious that soft, dry wind was, but now she prayedwith all her heart that it might speedily die. It was yet many hoursto sunset; and she, with Pallas, went into the forest until theycould see the fire, and were in some danger from the drifting sparks.The foresters shook their heads and told her to be prepared for theworst; Pallas groaned and prayed as if she had been at a camp-meeting;but Alice, although she trembled before the mighty power of theconflagration, endeavored not to lose her presence of mind.

  "I shall hope for the best," she said to the men, "but shall beprepared for the worst. Go to the mill and bring round by the river allthe skiffs you can muster--there are two or three, are there not? Theywill be ready by evening, and if the wind does not change, or go down,by that time, we will try and save the furniture by means of the boats.Come, Pallas, let us go home and pack up the smaller things."

  "Home!" The word sounded sweet, when destruction hovered so near; butAlice had a brave heart; she would think of nothing now but of beingequal to the emergency; her calmness had a salutary effect upon thecharacteristic excitability of her sable attendant, who followed herback in quite a composed and serviceable mood.

  Moving quietly about, putting her precious books into packages, andgetting into movable shape all those little articles of household usewhich become so dear from association, a looker-on would hardly haveguessed how anxiously the young girl waited for sunset--how earnestlyshe wished that her father had been at home.

  "My! my! dat nigger of mine is a wusser fool 'an ever," said Pallas, asshe bustled about like an embodied storm; "jes' see him, Miss Alice;he's went and put on his bes' clo'es, and dar' he stands, nebber doin'a single ting, but jes' holding dem new boots of his."

  "What are you dressed up for, Saturn," called Alice, laughing, in spiteof her anxiety, to find that he had made provision for that whichwas dearest to him--his new suit would be saved if he was, and if heperished, it would share his fate.

  "Oh, missus," he replied, looking foolish, "it's the easiest way tocarry 'em."

  "Better put your boots on, also; then you'll have your hands to workwith," suggested Alice.

  "Jes' so, missus; I never tought of dat;" and on went the boots, afterwhich Saturn was ready to get as much in the way as possible.

  At sunset, the boats, consisting of two little skiffs which would holdbut small freightage, and one larger boat which would accomodate theheavier pieces of furniture, were moored under the stately old elmwhich had so long stood sentinel over that forest home. Three or fourmen, among whom was Ben Perkins, held themselves in readiness to givethe necessary assistance.

  The sun went down in a clear sky; there were no clouds to threatena wished-for rain; but that cold, firm wind which sometimes blowsunceasingly three days at a time, in the autumn months, rose higher andhigher. There was no moon, and as twilight deepened into night, thethick smoke which hung above the earth rendered the darkness intense;and occasionally when heavy volumes of smoke dropped lower toward theearth, the atmosphere was suffocating.

  Pallas prepared supper for all, with a strong cup of coffee to keepoff drowsiness; and no one retired to bed that night. Shortly aftermidnight the fire traveled within sight; the roar of the conflagrationswelled and deepened until it was like the dashing of a thousandseas; the hot breath of the flames aroused the wind, until it rushedin fury directly toward the cabin. Light flashes of flame would runfrom tree-top to tree-top, while farther back was a solid cone offire--trunks from which all the foliage and lesser branches had fallen,stretching their glowing arms across the darkness, towering up againstthe starless background. Frequently these fiery columns would crumble,with crashes scarcely heard through the continuous roar, sending up afitful shower of sparks to be whirled on high by the rushing currentsof air.

  Fascinated by the beautiful, appalling scene, Alice sat on the bankof the river, wrapped in a shawl, from which her pale, excited faceshone like a star, kindling the enthusiasm of the rude men about herto do something in her service. As for Ben, he scarcely looked at thefire--his eyes were upon the girl.

  "It's no use," he said to her, about two o'clock in the morning,"waitin' any longer. That fire will be on this very spot by break ofday. The wind's a blowin' a perfect gale. Ain't you cold, Miss Alice?"

  "No, no--not at all. If you think it the only way, then let us begin.My father's desk, with his papers, stands in his bedroom. See to thatfirst, Ben, and then the other things."

  It did not take long for the active fellows engaged to clear the cabinof all its contents; every thing was put into the boats--and then, asBen said, "it was high time to clear out."

  The smoke was suffocating, and sparks and small branches of burningtrees were beginning to fall around. Saturn and Pallas were safelystowed in the largest boat, while Alice paddled out into the streamin her own tiny canoe. The track of the fire was a mile in width; butthe mill was not threatened by it, nor much troubled by the smoke, thewind carrying it in another direction. The house then occupied by themill-hands must be the present shelter of the captain's family.

  Down the river, in the full glare of the conflagration, floated thelittle convoy. The smoke was not so dense about them now; it hung highabove, and rolled in dark billows far beyond. The stream was crimsonwith the reflection, and the faces of the party looked pallid in thelurid glare--always excepting those two sable faces, turned, with aweand dread, toward that sublime picture of devastation.

  Suddenly Alice, who was in advance, dropped back.

  "I must return to the house," she cried, as she came along side of theboat containing Ben and the old servants.

  "No, you mus'n't," shouted Ben; "it's too late. It's getting mightywarm here now; and them flyin' branches 'll hit ye."

  "I can't help it," replied Alice, firmly. "There's something in thegarret I must have. Father would never forgive us for forgetting thattrunk, Pallas."

  "Law, suz! dat trunk! sure enough," groaned Pallas.

  "I must get it," said the young girl.

  "How can you, chile? it's locked, so yer can't get out the things, andof course _you_ couldn't carry it down. Come back! oh, come back, dearchile, won't yer? What's forty trunks to yer own precious life, chile?and them sparks 'll set your dress on fire, and the heat 'll smotheryer all up."

  "I've got a hatchet, and I'll break it open," shouted Alice, now fastrowing back toward the cabin.

  "That girl's right down crazy," said Ben Perkins; "here Saturn, takethese oars, and make 'em fly. I'm goin' after her."

  He threw off his jacket and boots, plunged into the stream, swamashore, and ran along the bank, keeping pace with the skiff. Bothreached the house at the same instant, they were gone perhaps threeminutes, and came forth again, Ben carrying the trunk upon hisshoulder. One instant they paused to look upon the wall of fire behindthem; but the heat was intolerable.

  "These falling bits will sartainly set your clothing a-blaze," saidBen, hurrying the young girl away, who would fain have lingered yetaround the home which had grown dear to her with her growth--alreadythe garden was withering, and the vines she had planted were droopingbefore their impending ruin.

  "My dress is woolen," she said; "but I will go. Oh, Ben, this isterrible, is it not?"

  "Yes, Miss Alice, but if ye get away safe now, you may thank yerstars. I don't believe the canoe 'll hold you and the trunk both," heremarked, as he deposited his precious (to Alice) burden in the bottomof it.

  "Yes it will--but you, Ben?"

  "Oh, I ain't of as much consequence as a trunk,"
he replied, bitterly."Take car' of yourself--don't mind me."

  "I shan't stir from this spot until you come with me, Ben. So get intothe boat, quick."

  "Get in yourself, Miss Alice, and make good time. You'll be baked likea brick, if yer don't get out of this soon. I'm going to swim 'longside. What's a mile or two, swimmin' down stream?" He threw himself inthe water, and struck out, as he spoke.

  She kept beside of him, refusing to go faster than he, that she mightgive him aid, in case he became exhausted; the river at this spot wasover a mile in width, and it would have been difficult for him, tiredand heated as he already was, to make the opposite shore.

  As they made their way along in this manner, the wind swept the hotbreath of the fire around them in suffocating waves. The cold surfaceof the river kept the air comparatively pure for two or three feetabove it, or they would have smothered; but as it was, Alice gasped forbreath convulsively at times.

  "Alice! Alice! you are sufferin'--you can't stand it," cried hercompanion in a voice which betrayed the agony of his soul--it thrilledthrough her, it was so sharp with pain.

  "Don't be uneasy, Ben, we're nearly clear of the fire, now;" butstruggle as bravely as she might, she could endure the heat no longer,and she, too, leaped into the river, and sheltering herself beneath theshadow of the skiff, swam boldly on, holding a small rope in her handwhich secured it from floating off.

  As soon as the advance party had got out of the smoke and heat, theywaited the return of the two, who made their appearance in an alarmingcondition, Alice having become exhausted in the water, and Ben havingher in one arm, and swimming with the other, while he towed the skiffby a rope held between his teeth.

  Alice fainted away when she found herself safe in Pallas' motherlyarms; and Ben might have followed her example had not one of hiscomrades been ready with a flask of spirits. It was thought best toadminister the same restorative to the young girl, who soon revived,murmuring: "Father will be so glad the trunk is safe, Pallas."

  As the morning broke, the party reached the shelter of the mill. It wastwo or three days before Alice was well enough to visit the ruins ofher beloved home; and then she could only row along the river and gazeupon the blackened and smoking mass, for the earth was still too hot tobe ventured upon. The cabin smoldered in a heap; the top of the greatelm was blackened and the foliage gone, but it had not fallen, and thegrass was crisped and withered to the edge of the river.

  The tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed; but with thehopefulness of youth, she passed on, seeking a new spot to consecrateas a second home. It was vain to think of rebuilding in the samevicinity, as all its beauty was destroyed, and it would take some yearsfor it to renew itself. She knew that her father did not wish to livetoo near to his mill, as he had always kept his home aloof from it;that he would be satisfied with such a spot as she liked; and she wasambitious to begin the work, for she knew the winter would be upon thembefore they could complete a new house, if plans were not early made.There was a lovely spot just beyond the ravages of the fire, where theriver made a crescent which held in its hollow a grove of beech and elmand a sloping lawn, standing in advance of the dark pines stretchingback into the interior. As her father owned the land for some distancealong the shore she was at liberty to make her choice, and she made ithere.

  Ben Perkins, when necessity demanded, was the carpenter of the place.He had a full set of tools, and there were others of the men capableof helping him. There was timber, plenty of it, already sawed, forthe frame of the new house, and while a portion went to work uponit, boards were sawed for the siding, and shingles turned out of theshingle-machine. As the "hands" said, Alice made an excellent captain.

  A little sleeping-apartment had been constructed for her off the maincabin, at the mill, and her own bed put up in it; but she did not likethe publicity of the table and the place, and longed for the new hometo be completed.

  The emotions of David Wilde were not enviable when, upon his return,he came in sight of the blackened ruins of his home. He did not so muchheed the vast destruction of valuable timber, as he did the waste ofthat snug little, vine-covered cabin, with the garden, the flowers, andthe associations clustering about all. The first question he asked whenhe clasped his child to his heart, and found _her_ safe, was of oldPallas: "That trunk in the garret--was it saved?"

  "Pickaninny saved dat ar' trunk, masser. She tought you had suthin'important in it, and she _would_ go back;" and Alice felt repaid forall the risk she had run, when she saw the look of relief upon herfather's face.

  Ben Perkins had planned the new house, the frame of which was ready tobe raised the day after the captain's return. Whether he had cunninglycalculated that the family would some time be increased, or not,certain it is that he made liberal allowance for such a contingency. Hehad much natural talent as an architect, and from some printed planswhich had fallen into his possession, he contrived a very pretty rusticcottage, with sharp-pointed gables something in the Gothic style, and aporch in front. Alice was charmed with it.

  "We'll get the house in livin' order in a month or two; but yer can'thave all the fixin's over the windows and the porch afore spring; I'llhave to make 'em all by hand, through the winter, when thar' ain't muchelse a-doin'."

  Ben was ambitious to conciliate Alice, and to make her feel how usefulhe could be to her and her father. Love prompted his head and hands toaccomplish wonders. Poor Ben! work as he might, gain her expressionsof gratitude and admiration as he might, that was the most. There wasalways a reserve about her which held his fiery feelings in check. Hiswas not a nature, either to check and control its own strong passions,or to give up an object upon which they were once set.

  A settled gloom came over his olive face, and his eyes burned likesmoldering fires beneath their black brows. He no longer had pleasantremarks to make; no longer brought daily gifts of fish, birds, berries,squirrels, venison, or grapes to Alice; no longer tried to break downher reserve--he just worked--worked constantly, perseveringly, moodily.

  Alice herself was scarcely more gay. He guessed whose image filledher mind, when she sat so long without moving, looking off at thefrost-tinted forests; and the thought was bitterness.

  It was necessary for Captain Wilde to go again to some settlement downthe river, to get hinges, locks, window-sashes, glass, etc., for thenew house, which was to be ready for those finishing touches, by thetime of his return. He did not know, when he set out, whether he wouldgo as far as Center City, or stop at some smaller point nearer home.

  One day, about the time of his expected return, Ben had gone for Alice,to get her opinion about some part of the house. They stood together,on the outside, consulting about it, so interested in the detail thatthey neither of them noticed the boat upon the river, until it wasmoored to the bank, and the voice of the raftsman was heard calling tothem.

  Both turned at the same moment and saw that Philip Moore was in companywith Mr. Wilde. Ben's eyes fixed themselves instantly upon Alice'sface, which was first pale and then red. He saw the great throb herheart gave, heard the sudden catch in her breath; and he was stilllooking at her when Philip sprang gayly up the path and seized herhand--the man who loved her better than life saw all the blushes ofwomanhood coming and going upon her face at the touch of another's hand.

  A threatening blackness clouded his brow; Alice saw it, and knewthat he read her secret by the light of his own passion; she almostshuddered at the dark look which he flashed upon Philip; but her fatherwas calling for assistance to unload his craft, and Ben went forwardwithout speaking.

  "What a surly fellow that is, for one so good-looking and young,"remarked Philip, carelessly, looking after him.

  "He is not always so surly," Alice felt constrained to say in hisdefense: "he's vexed now about something."

  "But that's an ill-tempered look for a youthful face, Alice. I'm afraidhe'd hardly make a woman very happy--eh, Alice?"

  "That's a matter which does not interest me, Mr. Moore, I assure you,"answered the young
girl, with an unexpected flash of pride.