CHAPTER XII.
SILVIA’S TROUBLES.
Silvia Sanford did not spend her days of confinement in the ranger’s home in tears and sorrow. Far from it, though she felt anxious and uneasy about her father’s safety. She was perfectly contented in the society of the ranger, and his books when he was absent. Too, she had spent much of her time in wandering through the cavern, watching the falls and the beautiful trout that gamboled through the crystal waters.
It was on the morning following the night of Duval Dungarvon and Black Bear’s meeting, that the falls were parted a short time after sunrise, and a canoe, in which were the ranger and Silvia, and Echo, the eagle, shot out from under the falls and landed on the left bank of the stream.
The ranger took Silvia by the hand and assisted her on shore, and then led her up the steep, rocky cliff onto the summit of a high ridge overlooking the little valley below, and the distant hills.
He seated himself on a large rock and drew the maiden down by his side.
“Now, Miss Sanford,” he said, waving his hand away before him, “you can have a fair view of nature in her fresh morning robes.”
Silvia’s eyes took in the landscape before her.
“Oh, how grand and beautiful, Mr. Rainbolt!” she murmured, softly.
“I was just thinking, Silvia, that if we could always gaze upon the beauties of nature, and enjoy them together as we have this morning, what bliss would be ours.”
Silvia’s face flushed, and her heart fluttered wildly and yet strangely to her. With a tremulous voice she replied:
“That could never be, Rodger.”
“And why not? There is nothing impossible, Silvia.”
“I do not understand you,” she said.
“Then pardon me, Silvia, for speaking plainly what my heart compels me to say,” he said, in a warm, tender voice. “Since I have met you, I have learned to love you, as only a true heart can love. Forgive me, Silvia, but I could not keep back this confession, and I pray you will not feel insulted, or as though I were taking advantage of your helplessness. God forbid.”
The maiden’s eyes sought the ground shyly. Her heart leaped with strange emotion, but, after a few moments’ silence, during which the warm color in her cheeks came and went, she looked up and said:
“Why need I disguise my feelings? Oh, Rodger, my heart tells me I love you; but, give me one day to answer your question, to—”
“Yes, dear Silvia, a week, a year, since I have heard from your lips that I am loved!” replied the handsome ranger, his face radiant with joy.
There was a momentary silence, broken only by the roar of the falls. The ranger was the first to speak.
“Since my heart feels lighter, dear Silvia, since I have something left in the world to hope for now, I feel like another man, yet I am neglecting my duty to you, and so I must leave you now, and go and continue the search for your father. Shall I accompany you into the cavern before I go?”
“No, no, Rodger, I will remain here awhile in the cheerful sunshine, then I can go down into the cavern alone. Go, and may God speed you,” she replied.
The ranger imprinted a warm and ardent kiss upon her brow, then turned, and with Echo perched upon his shoulder, went in search of his pony.
Silvia watched him until he had disappeared; then she seated herself again, and became absorbed in thought.
How long she had remained so she did not know, but presently a soft footstep aroused her from her abstraction.
She arose to her feet and turned quickly around. An Indian woman, whom she at once recognized as Silver Voice, stood before her. Silvia was the first to speak.
“Oh, Silver Voice! it is you, who were so kind to me!”
“Yes, dear girl,” the woman replied, with much sadness in her voice, “but you are looking happier than when I last saw you.”
“Really, Silver Voice, I should be miserable indeed if I had not found a friend,” returned Silvia.
“Ah! dear girl, I know why. You have learned to love your handsome rescuer and friend, the ranger, and he loves you. Forgive me, but I stood in that shrubbery and heard his avowal of love and your reply.”
Silvia’s face flushed with anger.
“Do not get angry,” Silver Voice continued, “for it is all for your own good. Let me tell you, that if ever you marry Rodger Rainbolt, you will rue it to the bitter end.”
“Silver Voice!” cried Silvia, petulantly, “why do you presume to speak so prophetic? You astound me!”
“I know I do, but I speak the truth.”
“What do you know of Mr. Rainbolt, Silver Voice?”
“I know much—oh, God! much!” she cried, in a tone of sudden agony.
“And how do you know it?” questioned Silvia, in surprise.
“Take that,” Silver Voice said, handing Silvia a folded paper, “and when I am gone, read it. It will tell you all you wish to know of Rodger Rainbolt.”
“And of you?” questioned Silvia, eagerly.
“No. You do not wish, you do not need to know more of me than you do; but promise me that you will not breathe one word in the paper to the ranger.”
“I promise you,” said Silvia, scarcely knowing what she was saying.
“Then, good-by; you may never see me again,” said Silver Voice, and turning, she vanished in the forest like a shadow.
“Strange, mysterious woman,” muttered Silvia; “she seems like the vision of a dream to me. But the paper.”
She opened it. One side was blank, the other covered with the delicate handwriting of a female.
Silvia’s face turned ghastly pale as she glanced at the first words, and by the time she had finished the first line, her whole frame was trembling violently. But she read on, read on to the end, and then she uttered a low, convulsive cry, and wrung her hands as though a terrible agony was breaking her heart.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “Is it possible?”
With her feelings wrought to the highest pitch of excitement, she descended the cliff to the water’s edge, and stepped into the canoe to return to the cavern.
As she did so, she did not notice that round, dark ball from which shone a pair of burning orbs, resting on the water, yet concealed under the projecting rim of the canoe; nor did she observe how the craft dragged as it entered beneath the waters when they were parted, with a deadly enemy clinging to its side.