Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
She sat apparently unable to speak, but trembling and cold to the
touch. I had enough presence of mind to take her up and place her on
the other side of the pine, on the ground, and throw my coat
carelessly over her. As once before I heard passing steps, but now my
more practiced ear caught them distinctly. They came lightly up the
steep hill and stopped a moment at a little distance from the tree.
With eyes fixed on the ocean I waited in an agony of suspense,
assuming the most unconscious air of which I was capable. The steps
hesitated only a moment; then they passed lower and lower into the
upper wood. For half an hour neither of us moved; at last, taking
heart, we stole home.
The event set me thinking. If at any moment we were liable to be
discovered and separated, the marriage must take place at once. A
consumptive hastens his wedding, a wounded tree is quick to bear, and
the fright we had experienced taught me how slight was the thread on
which my happiness hung; but Manmat'ha was calm with a maidenly
content with little, which in my hasty resentment at even a suspicion
of opposition to my plan, I was ready to call indifference.
When we entered I could tell by the unfailing sign of Rachel's eye
that she was agitated. Later in the evening I heard her chanting in a
discordant undertone an ancient formula of her savage ancestors, and
therefore it was with some misgivings that I called and informed her
that to-night she was to be the sole witness, by touch, if not by
sight, of the lawful ceremony of wedlock between Manmat'ha and me.
She listened in an awestruck silence, and left the room abruptly. As
no calling was of any avail, we were compelled to wait her pleasure,
which I did with great impatience; and when at last she did return, it
was in a shape grotesque almost beyond recognition. Her face and arms
were painted white and red in broad bands of coarse pigments; an old
embroidered robe fastened over one shoulder, with a close-fitting
skirt of buckskin, formed her whole attire. She had put feathers in
her hair, and with flaming eyes shook her favorite talisman, the
medicine-stick. At one bound she had returned to her ancient state of
savagery.
Finding Manmat'ha regarding her with interest, I did not oppose the
further proceedings. It struck me that it was not displeasing to my
invisible love to receive divine honors even in this wild rite, so I
held my peace. She seemed to receive them as her due.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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