The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane
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I remember one day, when she had drawn her bow to shoot a dove that sat pluming its wings on a bough, she relaxed the string and returned the arrow to her sheaf.
"'Tis a fine fat pigeon," says I, "and we have naught for our supper: why have you spared it?"
"Do you not see her mate in the bough above?" says she. And so we supped on fruit and cassavy that night; but with no regret.
However, if there were moments of pain in these expeditions, there were long hours of delight; for now the woods were as like to Paradise as the mind of man can conceive, nothing lacking to enchant the senses; and to speak of all the rare and beautiful flowers and fruits we carried home to garnish our cavern would be an endless undertaking. And as these woods, valleys, and purling streams were like Paradise, so was I like a blessed soul therein; and I doubt if many men in all their lives sum up so much pure joy as every minute yielded to me. Here, day after day, I strolled beside my dear lady in the shade of delicate flowers, enveloped in sweet odors, and with warbling birds around us. But to my senses the sweetest music was her voice, the daintiest bloom her cheek, the most intoxicating perfume her breath. Looking around, it seemed to me that all Nature did but reflect her beauty, and therein lay its perfection. There were favorite spots where we would rest, noting the development of familiar things – how these buds expanded, how that fruit ripened, how the young birds began to stretch their naked necks beyond the nest's edge, crying for food; indeed, there was such scope for observation, and my dear lady was so quick to perceive and appreciate all things of beauty, that no moment was dull or tame.
While we indulged to the full our love for rambling, we were not unmindful of domestic things. The season was now come for plucking silk grass, and of this we cut an abundance, and laid it on the rocks to dry; for my lady designed to plait it, in the Ingas' style, into a long strip, which she might make up into clothing by-and-by. This plaiting was the first work I put my hand to, and though I bungled sadly over it to begin with, I grew defter in time, so that I could do it as well in the dark as in the day. Many an evening we sat weaving our grass hour after hour, with no light but that of the stars as they twinkled forth, chatting the whole while of other matters. But before I got to this proficiency – indeed, as soon as I could plait decently – I made a hat for my lady; not so much like a woman's as a boy's, that it might go fairly with her habit; and this, with a couple of bright tail-feathers from a macucagui6 stuck in jauntily o' one side, became her mightily, though I say it; but, for that matter, anything looked well that she took for her use.
About this time we had the good fortune to catch a partlet sitting on a nest of fifteen eggs; taking these home without delay, we clapped the eggs in a corner of our conies' cavern, where the hen, after some little ado, sat down upon them, being hemmed in with the hurdle that parted off my bed-chamber from our parlor, which I fetched out for that purpose.
About a fortnight later my Lady Biddy came to me in great glee one morning to say that every one of the eggs were hatched out; and I know not which looked the more content, this old hen strutting carefully amidst her chicks as proud as a peacock, or my dear lady casting some cassavy pap before them for a meal.
And now the conies multiplying prodigiously, that cavern was full of young live things, so that there was as much work to provide for their mouths as our own; but there was never too much for my lady to do, and she would not part with a single one.
"They are my children," she would say, with a little sadness in her smile.
With these innocent pleasures and hard work my lady beguiled the days, and so two months passed away – two months, as I say, of inexpressible delight for me. Not a day passed without my discovering some new charm in her person, some fresh grace in her character, which I had previously overlooked. And how to keep this adoration that filled my soul from overflowing by my lips, or my eyes, was almost more than I could compass.
One day when I was culling a nosegay, and seeing in the pale pink and cream hue of the flowers resemblance to my lady's cheek, I (being then alone) did with extravagant passion bury my face in the fresh cool bloom, kissing them till my transport was spent. Then, looking again at the blossoms, I was sobered to perceive how I had crushed out their freshness and beauty, so that they no longer bore any likeness to my dear lady's face.
So then I resolved I would not suffer myself to fall in love with her; but that was easier said than done. For 'twere as easy to promise you would not grow hungered or athirst. However, one thing was possible, if I had any manhood, and that was to keep my love from being known to my dear lady.
Nevertheless, before long I had reason to believe she had guessed my secret, for she also grew silent and downcast beyond her wont, and more than once I spied her looking at me with pity and sorrow, as if she knew of my trouble.
One day, when I addressed her as "my lady," she said:
"Why should you call me by a title here where there is no distinction? Why not call me 'sister,' Benet, or plain 'Biddy'? – for we are as brother and sister to one another, are we not, and must ever be?"
This hint showed what was in her mind; and yet if she had learnt my secret, God knows it was against the best I could do to hide it.
I called her "sister" after that, hoping it would train my mind to think of her in that relation; but it did not, so that I knew not what remedy to get for the fever of my heart.
One morning we were made merry at breakfast by the partlet making her way over the rocks that divided us from the conies' cave, and bringing all her brood to pay us a visit, which was as much as ever she could tempt them to undertake, and called for prodigious chuckling and scratching on her part. Our diversion somewhat relaxed the feeling of restraint within me, and when my dear lady, taking up a chick in her fair hands, held it up that I might see how bright and free were its eyes, I, looking all the while upon the lovely girl's head that was so near me, was within an ace of bending down to touch it with my lips. Now this being a Tuesday was the day for grinding our cassavy meal, and perceiving by my heat that I dare not trust myself to stand by our bench all the morning beside my lady, I made believe I had a relish for fish that day, and begged her to take her rod and line and go a-fishing while I ground the cassavy.
"Nay," says she, "do you go a-fishing, for your arm is not yet strong enough to do this hard work alone."
But I protested I was able to do this, my arm being as well as ever it had been, and that she was a better angler than I (as indeed was true), and so she presently took her rod and went over the rocks to a pool where fish abounded. When I had ground my meal and set the kitchen neatly in order, I betook myself to the rocks straightway; for I could never abide to let my lady be long out of sight for fear of accident befalling her. And that I might not scare the fish, I approached the pool noiselessly; but turning a rock that screened that part from view I was brought of a sudden to a stand by spying my poor little comrade sitting on a big stone, her rod lying idly beside her, her elbows on her knees, and her face buried in her hands. She made no sound, but I could see, by the twitching of her shoulders, that she was sobbing. Then would I have given all the world to be able to go thither and comfort her – to draw her to me and soothe her as a brother might his sister. But reflecting that we were but brother and sister in name, and that I should but add to her distress by my endeavors to assuage it, I drew back as silently as I had come, and going back to the cavern I sank down on my stone stool as wretched and sore at heart as might be.
"Poor soul," thinks I, "she must needs weep at times to relieve her overcharged heart. There are birds that do pine away in captivity. This is no home for her. These chicks and conies can never replace the friends she has lost and can never hope to rejoin. Here there is naught to hope for; even Nature must cease to charm her when she sees that these mountains and waters serve as the bars of a cage. What cheerful word can I whisper? What can I do to bring joy into those dear eyes?"
In this sort did I spend the time till I heard her voice feigning to hum a merry ditty, when I also put on a careless look to hide my care.
She had caught half a dozen fishes, so that she could not have given way long to grief; nor was it in her nature to yield to useless regrets. If I had judged only by her present manner I should have said that nothing was amiss with her, for she persevered in sprightly conversation, albeit I could join in it but poorly; still, as we sat to our dinner, I noted that the lids of her pretty eyes were swollen and red. Also I observed that her cheek was thinner than it used to be, and the blue veins in the back of her hand more clearly marked. Then it struck me that perhaps her dejection arose from failing health, and that the vapors from the fens, wafting over the lake, had already attacked her, as they had before seized me.
Then of a sudden the thought came to me as I looked at her —
"What should I do without my dear little comrade?"
And at this reflection it seemed as if the food I was eating must choke me.
God knows how I got through that meal. When it was over, I made a pretense of feeding the conies to go apart where I might give vent to the terrible emotion that brought me to a despairing grief. And saying again, "What should I do without her?" I wept like any child, but with the difficulty of a man, so that I felt as if my heart was being torn out of my breast, and beat my foot upon the ground in agony.
However, this weakness passed away with my tears, and then bracing myself up with more manly fortitude I swore, betwixt my clenched teeth, that all the powers of Nature should not keep my lady prisoner there. As I said this, my eye fell upon a mark on the rock, left by the turbid swollen waters, and marking how the waters were now fallen from this height a good five fathoms, I conceived a means of escape which had never before occurred to me.
CHAPTER LXIII
WE ENTER INTO A CAVERN, THE LIKE OF WHICH NO MAN HAS EVER YET TOLD OF
No sooner did this new idea come to me than I sprang down the rocks to where our canoe lay, stepped into it, pulled up the stone which served as an anchor, and, in a perfect rage of haste, paddled to that part of the lake where, as I have told, we were like to have been drawn down with the whirlpool.
To this region we had found no occasion to go since our first hazardous voyage thither, there being no woods, but only the high stony mountain. But now, nearing this part, I perceived, with a tumult of joy, a wide cavern in the rock, disclosed by the falling of the water from its previous height: moreover, there was no longer any whirlpool there, but only a gentle current flowing into the cavern, which was the natural efflux of the streams that came down from the mountains. And it can be readily understood that when the waters were swollen so prodigiously as to lie some depth above this cavern, there should be that vast eddy as they were sucked down to find vent by this passage.
Without fear I pushed my canoe to the very edge of the cavern and looked within; and, though the pitchy darkness of it was frightful enough, yet I was comforted by hearing no great noise of tumbling water, nor even the faintest echo, save of a little ripple, which convinced me that I might safely venture therein, with the assurance that I should come to no horrid falls, but reach, in due course, the issue of this stream upon the other side of the mountain. But I could go no further at this time for my impatience to carry comfort to my dear lady. So back I went with as much speed as I had come, and, seeing my dear lady standing at the cavern-mouth, I cried out with all my force for joy. Then, coming all breathless to where she stood in amaze, I essayed to tell her; but for some moments could utter no comprehensible words.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Benet?" says she.
"My little comrade," gasps I, "you shall weep no more. Your cheek shall grow full and rosy again. I have found the means to get from this accursed venomous prison!"
Lady Biddy looked at me in mute amazement, my feverish excitement giving her good reason to doubt whether I was not bereft of my reason; but, to cut the matter short, for 'twas ever to me an easier matter to act than to talk, I begged her to step into our canoe, that I might show her my discovery. This she did without further ado, whereupon I pushed across the lake till we came to the newly-found cavern, and there cast out our anchor of stone, that we might examine the entrance at our ease.
"There," says I, pointing into the grotto – "there lies our road to liberty!"
She peered into the darkness some time in silence, and then, with a hushed voice —
"I see no glimmer of light, Benet," says she.
"Nay," says I, "doubtless the tunnel reaches far and has many windings ere it disembogues beyond the further side of these mountains; but assuredly it has an issue, and I conclude the passage must be sufficiently commodious, since it gives no echo of break or fall, and has sufficed to carry off the vast body of waters so speedily, for you must remember how suddenly the lake fell after the flood ceased to rush in from the Baraquan. I believe you have nothing to dread here."
"I am ever ready," says she, "to put my life in your hands; but have you no fear for yourself?"
"I value my life only as it may serve you," says I with a transport.
On that, with a sudden impulse, she stretched out both hands to me, while her eyes were flushed with a tear of joy. As quickly I seized them in mine, pressing them as I had not hitherto dared. She did not try to draw them away, but smiled, while a single tear coursed down her cheek; and if I had drawn her to my breast that moment, I think she would have made no resistance, so virginal innocent was her heart, and pure from any feeling but that of responsive affection.
We lost no time in beginning our preparations for departure, and that evening we made up into cakes for next day's baking all the cassavy meal I had ground in the morning for our week's consumption. I was up at daylight the next morning, and, having made a good fire on the kitchen hearth, killed and dressed four acutis and a couple of chickens, for there was no knowing how long we might go before we again got fresh supplies. By this time, my lady having come back from her morning bath all fresh and bright as any pink after a summer shower, we sat down to our breakfast very merry and hopeful, discoursing all the while on the business before us. After that she set to a-baking of our cakes on the hearth and roasting meat at another fire, so that one would have thought we expected to entertain friends, and were preparing a banquet for them. While this was about, I went into the wood to cut some poles for guiding us through the cavern, and also I got me some good canes, with which I proposed to fence about our canoe, that we might be fended from sudden encounter with sharp rocks. In addition I gathered a good store of fresh fruit, and a quantity of cuati nuts on their branches, which the Ingas use for lamps, etc., than which no candles of wax give better light with less smoke.
All these things I carried back to the cavern by the time the sun had reached the meridian, and there I found dinner spread on our table, and no more sign of disorder than on any other day, my Lady Biddy being one of those excellent rare women, who, no matter how busy they be, keep a clear head, and neglect none of those comforting attentions on which domestic happiness so much depends.
The rest of that day I spent in strengthening and defending our canoe (our fate depending thereon as much as anything), while my lady packed up those things we were to carry with us; and many a time she came to me in distress to know if we could not take this, or if we must leave that or t'other, for I had bid her take no more than was needful to us.
"The truth is," says she, when I went to her once, "I have not the heart to leave anything behind; for I cannot touch a thing but that it reminds me of the pleasure you have given me in making it for my use." Then after a pause, in which she looks around her, "Oh! Benet," adds she, "I never realized till now how happy we have been here; so I must needs feel sad in leaving these tokens behind."
The next morning we packed our effects in the canoe, and this being done, we carried my lady's pets from the conies' cave (as I call it) to the wood, and there set them free; but, Lord, to see these dumb things at the water's edge (the conies on their hind-legs), looking after their mistress, as if they had a notion they should never see her again, touched our hearts with sad regret.
"Farewell, you dears!" says my lady tearfully; and then, as we glided past our cavern, "Farewell, little home!" but she could say no more.
So in silence we neared that cavern where we were about to venture our lives; for I now perceived how serious and grave a business lay before me.
Before entering the grotto, I lit one of the cuati-nuts, and stuck it in a fork of green hard wood I had fixed to the prow of the canoe for that purpose. Then, my lady having a pole out on one side, and I one on the other, we recommended ourselves to Providence, and pushed into the darkness.
For some time we went gently down with the current, only using our poles to keep us head foremost, and as nigh the middle of the stream as we could judge. And here it was admirable to see how the rocks on either hand and above flashed back the light from our flaming nuts, for all the world like cut diamonds; but after a while, upon looking back, the opening of this cavern (through which we had come) looked no bigger than the flame of a penny candle, and the glitter of the rocks grew less perceptible, from which we concluded that the grotto, instead of diminishing, was increasing in capacity. At first this was no matter of regret, but rather the contrary; but by-and-by, when we could descry no light at all behind us, nor any reflection from the rocks around, a strange feeling crept upon me, for which I can find no name. Save the reflection of the burning nut upon the black water, and our own figures as we stood up in the canoe (which were shadowy enough for creatures of another world), we could see nothing. The water under the fire lay as still and smooth as any polished mirror; for aught we could tell, the current had ceased to flow, and we had come to a standstill. I thrust my pole out on either side; it touched nothing. I slid it downwards into the water, and my arm also up to the elbow, without striking the bottom. Then I struck upward as far as I could reach, without meeting any resistance. And on this I looked in my lady's face, and saw it white as a ghost's, and full of awe.
"We seem to have drifted into the world of nothing," says I sportively.
She lifts up her finger in silence a moment, and then in a whisper says she:
"There is no echo."
This indeed impressed me, more deeply than all the rest, with a sense of that vastness and obscurity in which we stood; and I could not speak, for fear of I know not what. And then, as we stood in that wondrous silence, there came a hollow voice from the immensity above, echoing my words after all this interval, but in such a hollow, muffled sound as you may hear after dropping a stone into a deep well.
"Are we moving, Benet?" says my lady, drawing a little nearer to me.
But I could not say whether we were or not, nor knew I any device to ascertain the truth.
I made my lady sit down, seeing she was much terrified by this strange experience, and replenished the fire at the prow; for though this light was of no service for our guidance, yet I felt that to be without it would be terrible, in good sooth.
So we waited, gazing about us for some sign of change (with the hope we were yet moving with a current whose now was too even for perception), until I guessed by my feelings it must be getting on for noon. Then, with what spirit I could muster, I proposed we should eat our dinner. But a more ghostly meal I never ate in my life; for all seemed so unreal that it was difficult to believe in our own existence almost. Nay, it crossed my mind that, for aught we knew to the contrary, we were now in some limbo of a future state.
"I do not think we are moving, Benet," says my lady, when our meal was at an end; "shall we not use our oars?"
"With all my heart," says I; "but as to steering, we must leave that to Providence." Indeed, I should long before have brought our oars into play but for the uncertainty as to whither we might come. For 'twas as likely as not we should pull in the wrong direction, having nothing for our guidance, and so, getting out of the current (if current there were), come into some stagnant part of those waters, where we might paddle about forever and a day and find no exit; but of this I said nothing, lest I should inspire my lady with more terrors than she had already.
And so we rowed on, from time to time replenishing our fire, and my heart sickening at the thought that we might be pushing into the depths of a boundless space, and away from all hope of deliverance. We had food for a week; but I doubted our fire-nuts would hold out three days. And when they were all spent, we must row in endless night, neither seeing each other nor any faintest glimmer, and that only till our food was spent. At this I did fervently pray for mercy – if it were only to catch sight again of the mouth by which we had entered – that we might get back once more into the light of day. My poor little comrade was thinking at this time of the sunlight and her conies, with a longing to be back in our deserted cavern, as she told me.
We rowed till our strength was exhausted; then I bade my lady lie down and rest, while I watched and kept the nuts burning. When she had taken her slumbers, she insisted upon my doing likewise, and with some reluctance I, in my turn, lay down and fell asleep.
I awoke, and then seeing nothing whatever, for the light was no longer burning, I cried out with a terrible fear that my lady was no more.
But her sweet voice brought me quick relief, as she told me that she had thought it best to economize our fuel. "And, Benet," says she, "are we not more likely to catch sight of a faint light in the distance if we have no fire here to dazzle our eyes?"
"Why, there you are in the right, as you ever are," says I.
"That emboldens me to another suggestion," says she. "As we have not been rowing for many hours, it may be that we have drifted again into a current, so do let us rest as patiently as we can doing nothing."
I agreed to this, and we passed an interminable time, as it seemed, as best we might; but, truly, no hours ever spent in that dear soul's company were ever so tedious or weary. For, as I say, we had no means of telling whether we were moving or standing still; but lay there, seeing nothing, hearing no sound, feeling no motion, and in a state of uncertainty and dread of unknown possibilities that was enough to drive one to a frenzy.
And so we lay or drifted (I know not which) for a time that seemed to have no end. Once or twice we made a pretense of being hungered, though, Lord knows, 'twas pain to swallow a morsel for our vast terror; and sometimes we made as if we would go to sleep a while, but could never close our eyes for blinking at the darkness in hope of seeing some sign of light; and from time to time we burned a fire-nut, but without perceiving any change at all in our condition.
But at length, when we were beginning to talk of the advisability of rowing again, for we were as blind to our position as ever, to our unspeakable joy we felt the cane fender of the canoe grinding against the rocks, and before I could get a light to see where we were, my lady cried aloud with joy:
"Look, dear Benet – look up there!"
And casting my eyes round, without knowing whither she pointed, I presently spied a bright star; and the next moment the whole starry firmament was revealed.
Thus did we come out of that wondrous cavern in the night, having gone into it in early morning; but whether we had been therein one day or three we could never make out.