The Secret Shot; Or, The Rivals Of Misty Mount — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE HEIRESS OF MISTY MOUNT. “Certainly, my dear fellow!” said ald Godfrey, in his hearty tone, at the same time pouring out a glass and reaching it to him from the porch. “And I have excellent brandy and a dozen kinds of “wine at your service if you will alight and join us, sir,” he continued.” “Phank you, but I can not alight; I must hasten to the village where I am wait- ed for,” said the stranger. “T will willingly join you in a friendly glass, however.” The wine was ordered and the glasses filled—not forgetting one for the silent In- - dian. . The horseman raised his brimming glass and bent his dark eyes upon the beautiful girl. “Tf no lady was present,” said he, “I should propose the health of one whom I have never seen, but whose beauty as the Heiress of Misty Mount has reached my ears in a distant home; but as I can con- ceive of no superior loveliness to what I behold in the lady before me, I propose—” “The gentleman is complimentary,” blush- ingly interposed the lady. “ And, although I ignore the fame which his gallantry men- tion, I think he can consistently propose the toast which he previously contemplated.” “Ts it possible!’ exclaimed the other. “Do I then address— “ No particular heiress, sir, but plain Ida Gwin at your service,” continued the lady, with another blush. “ Now then, indeed,” cried the stranger, uncovering, “do I propose, and gratefully, the Heiress of Misty Mount!” and the toast was quaffed by all, with the exception of its lovely subject. “ And will the gentleman honor us with his own name?” said the courtly host. “ Little honor will be conferred, I am afraid,” replied the stranger, with a smile. “His name is Henry Cleayeland, a poor col- onel in the Continental army, at your ser- vice, with no possession in the world but a respectable record and the sword at his side.” “A brave man needs no more to recom- mend him,” said Walter Gwin; “and if you are the same who participated at Mon- mouth—” The colonel lifted his hat once more, and bowed, while the young man started for- ward and impulsively seized his hand. “You are he, then?” he joyfully ex- claimed. “Such a sword as yours is pos- _ Session enough—it is an estate—a field of honor !” * 7 The father and daughter were also glad to shake hands with a man of Cleaveland’s fame, and the latter felt so comfortable that he was already regretting the duties which must render his halt of short duration. “Now, let me propose a toast,” cried old Godfrey, brimming the glasses again as he spoke. “Here is to George Washington and the Continental armies, and confusion to their foes, be they British or Tories.” “With all my heart!” cried the horseman, emptying his glass with gusto, as did Ida and her brother. But a sudden shade of anger darted over the pale cheek of the latter. “Our toast is distasteful to Wandalo, it seems. Why does the chieftain spill his wine upon the grass?’ he exclaimed, look- ing angrily and distrustfully at the savage, who, at the mention of the last toast, had scornfully flung his wine away. “The wine is too red for Wandalo,” was the scornful reply. “The life-blood of his children is dark in the cup. The Thunder- Scorner cannot drink to the rs-epeabaeel of his race,” The fierce fit was upon him again. Seiz- ing his rifle, he drew his blanket closer around him, and strode away. “We speaks excellent English for a say- age,” observed Cleaveland. “Is he trust- worthy ?” . “Father thinks so,’ said the young cap- tain, dubiously. ss T consider Wandalo perfectly trust- worthy,” said Mr. Gwin. “I have known him. now for twenty years. His tribe and he occupied the plains and ranges immedi- ately behind Misty Mountain, when I first settled here; and, although the rest of his tribe have long since gone further west, Wandalo haunts the old scenes like a phan- tom of loneliness, Mutual favors have passed between us frequently. He saved my life once at the upper cataract of the Catawba, and, most probably, the old friend- ship is his strongest motive for lingering about the valley. He has never served the Tories, though all his kindred have perished in their cause ; on the contrary, he has ren- dered signal service to General Morgan in the skirmish of last spring, at the middle ford of Broad river. What you have just witnessed was merely a momentary fit of — at the recollection of his slaughtered sons.” “T am afraid it means more than that,” said Walter. (E(0) 2 icboo