The mule drank long and lazily, while over Frank stole thoughts in harmony with the peaceful scene,--thoughts of Rena, young and beautiful, her friendly smile, her pensive dark eyes. He would soon see her now, and if she had any cause for fear or unhappiness, he would place himself at her service--for a day, a week, a month, a year, a lifetime, if need be.
His reverie was broken by a slight noise from the thicket at his left. "I wonder who dat is?"he muttered. "It soun's mighty quare, ter say de leas'."He listened intently for a moment, but heard nothing further. "It must 'a' be'n a rabbit er somethin' scamp'in' th'ough de woods. G'long dere, Caesar!"As the mule stepped forward, the sound was repeated. This time it was distinctly audible, the long, low moan of some one in sickness or distress.
"Dat ain't no rabbit," said Frank to himself.
"Dere's somethin' wrong dere. Stan' here, Caesar, till I look inter dis matter."Pulling out from the branch, Frank sprang from the saddle and pushed his way cautiously through the outer edge of the thicket.
"Good Lawd!" he exclaimed with a start, "it's a woman--a w'ite woman!"The slender form of a young woman lay stretched upon the ground in a small open space a few yards in extent. Her face was turned away, and Frank could see at first only a tangled mass of dark brown hair, matted with twigs and leaves and cockleburs, and hanging in wild profusion around her neck.
Frank stood for a moment irresolute, debating the serious question whether he should investigate further with a view to rendering assistance, or whether he should put as great a distance as possible between himself and this victim, as she might easily be, of some violent crime, lest he should himself be suspected of it--a not unlikely contingency, if he were found in the neighborhood and the woman should prove unable to describe her assailant. While he hesitated, the figure moved restlessly, and a voice murmured:--"Mamma, oh, mamma!"
The voice thrilled Frank like an electric shock.
Trembling in every limb, he sprang forward toward the prostrate figure. The woman turned her head, and he saw that it was Rena. Her gown was torn and dusty, and fringed with burs and briars.
When she had wandered forth, half delirious, pursued by imaginary foes, she had not stopped to put on her shoes, and her little feet were blistered and swollen and bleeding. Frank knelt by her side and lifted her head on his arm. He put his hand upon her brow; it was burning with fever.
"Miss Rena! Rena! don't you know me?"
She turned her wild eyes on him suddenly.
"Yes, I know you, Jeff Wain. Go away from me! Go away!"Her voice rose to a scream; she struggled in his grasp and struck at him fiercely with her clenched fists. Her sleeve fell back and disclosed the white scar made by his own hand so many years before.
"You're a wicked man," she panted. "Don't touch me! I hate you and despise you!"Frank could only surmise how she had come here, in such a condition. When she spoke of Wain in this manner, he drew his own conclusions.
Some deadly villainy of Wain's had brought her to this pass. Anger stirred his nature to the depths, and found vent in curses on the author of Rena's misfortunes.
"Damn him!" he groaned. "I'll have his heart's blood fer dis, ter de las' drop!"Rena now laughed and put up her arms appealingly. "George," she cried, in melting tones, "dear George, do you love me? How much do you love me? Ah, you don't love me!" she moaned; "I'm black; you don't love me; you despise me!"Her voice died away into a hopeless wail.
Frank knelt by her side, his faithful heart breaking with pity, great tears rolling untouched down his dusky cheeks.
"Oh, my honey, my darlin'," he sobbed, "Frank loves you better 'n all de worl'."Meantime the sun shone on as brightly as before, the mocking-bird sang yet more joyously.
A gentle breeze sprang up and wafted the odor of bay and jessamine past them on its wings. The grand triumphal sweep of nature's onward march recked nothing of life's little tragedies.
When the first burst of his grief was over, Frank brought water from the branch, bathed Rena's face and hands and feet, and forced a few drops between her reluctant lips. He then pitched the cartload of tubs, buckets, and piggins out into the road, and gathering dried leaves and pine-straw, spread them in the bottom of the cart. He stooped, lifted her frail form in his arms, and laid it on the leafy bed. Cutting a couple of hickory withes, he arched them over the cart, and gathering an armful of jessamine quickly wove it into an awning to protect her from the sun. She was quieter now, and seemed to fall asleep.
"Go ter sleep, honey," he murmured caressingly, "go ter sleep, an' Frank'll take you home ter yo' mammy!"Toward noon he was met by a young white man, who peered inquisitively into the canopied cart.
"Hello!" exclaimed the stranger, "who've you got there?""A sick woman, suh."
