Betty Zane quotes

Believing it unsafe to take their families with them at once, they left them at Red Stone on the Monongahela river, while the men, including Colonel Zane, his brothers Silas, Andrew, Jonathan and Isaac, the Wetzels, McCollochs, Bennets, Metzars and others, pushed on ahead.

The country through which they passed was one tangled, most impenetrable forest; the axe of the pioneer had never sounded in this region, where every rod of the way might harbor some unknown danger.

These reckless bordermen knew not the meaning of fear; to all, daring adventure was welcome, and the screech of a redskin and the ping of a bullet were familiar sounds;

The boasts of the Colonel remained as yet unproven, but, be that as it may, Betty had, notwithstanding her many faults, endeared herself to all.

She made sunshine and happiness everywhere; the old people loved her; the children adored her, and the broad shouldered, heavy footed young settlers were shy and silent, yet blissfully happy in her presence.

“Betty, will you fill my pipe?” asked the Colonel, when he had finished his supper and had pulled his big chair nearer the fire. His oldest child, Noah, a sturdy lad of six, climbed upon his knee and plied him with questions.

Many of the summer evenings found him on the Colonel’s doorstep, smoking a pipe, or playing with the children.

He was that rare and best company⁠—a good listener.

Although he laughed at Colonel Zane’s stories, and never tired of hearing of Isaac’s experiences among the Indians, it is probable he would not have partaken of the Colonel’s hospitality nearly so often had it not been that he usually saw Betty, and if he …

A stillness, which was only broken now and then by the twittering of birds uttering the plaintive notes peculiar to them in the autumn as they band together before their pilgrimage to the far south, pervaded the forest.

Betty loved the woods, and she knew all the trees.

She could tell their names by the bark or the shape of the leaves.

The hunter looked down into the happy, gleaming faces, and smiling in his half sad way, answered:

“Every man to his gifts.”

“But you can dance. I want you to put aside your gun long enough to dance with me. If I waited for you to ask me, I fear I should have to wait a long time.

He slowly pursued a course lending gradually down to the creek. At intervals he would stop and listen.

The strange voices of the woods were not mysteries to him. They were more familiar to him than the voices of men.

He recalled that, while on his circuit over the ridge to get behind the cavern, he had heard the report of a rifle far off in the direction of the chestnut grove, but, as that was a favorite place of the settlers for shooting squirrels, …

But to return to fishing. I love it, and yet I nearly always allow the fish to go free. Sometimes I bring home a pretty sunfish, place him in a tub of water, watch him and try to tame him. But I must admit failure.

It is the association which makes fishing so delightful.

The canoe gliding down a swift stream, the open air, the blue sky, the birds and trees and flowers—these are what I love. Come and see my canoe.”

Betty’s low voice, the water rushing so musically over the falls, the great yellow leaves falling into the pool, the gentle breeze stirring the clusters of goldenrod—all came softly to Alfred as he lay there with half closed eyes.

The time slipped swiftly by as only such time can.

“I fear the melancholy spirit of the day has prevailed upon you,” said Betty, half wistfully. “You did not know I had stopped reading, and I do not believe you heard my favorite poem.

Then came a short series of ripples, with merry, bouncing waves and foamy currents; below lay a long, smooth reach of water, deep and placid, mirroring the moon and the countless stars.

Noiseless as a shadow the canoe glided down this stretch, the paddle dipping regularly, flashing brightly, and scattering diamond drops in the clear moonlight.

Another turn in the stream and a sound like the roar of an approaching storm as it is borne on a rising wind, broke the silence. It was the roar of rapids or falls. The stream narrowed; the water ran swifter;

“You are angry now. I will tell you. Myeerah tried hard to win your love, and when you ran away from her she was proud for a long time.

But there was no singing of birds, no music of the waters, no beauty in anything after you left her.

Life became unbearable without you. Then Myeerah remembered that she was a daughter of kings. She summoned the bravest and greatest warriors of two tribes and said to them, ‘Go and bring to me the paleface, White Eagle. Bring him to me alive or dead.

Isaac tried hard to steel his heart against her, but he was only mortal and he failed.

The charm of her presence influenced him; her love wrung tenderness from him.

Those dark eyes, so proud to all others, but which gazed wistfully and yearningly into his, stirred his heart to its depths. He kissed the tear-wet cheeks and smiled upon her.

“I do not doubt that, but I think sometimes that it is not the right kind of love. It is too savage.

No man should be made a prisoner for no other reason than that he is loved by a woman.

I have tried to teach you many things; the language of my people, their ways and thoughts, but I have failed to civilize you. I cannot make you understand that it is unwomanly—do not turn away. I am not indifferent.

“Myeerah is proud of her beauty, if it pleases the Eagle. Her beauty and her love are his. Yet the Eagle’s words make Myeerah sad. She cannot tell what she feels.

The pale face’s words flow swiftly and smoothly like rippling waters, but Myeerah’s heart is full and her lips are dumb.

”

“I believe Betty cared for Mr. Clarke. She was always different with him. He has gone away and has forgotten her. That is strange to us, because we cannot imagine anyone indifferent to our beautiful Betty.

Nevertheless, no matter how attractive a woman may be men sometimes love and ride away.

I hear the children coming now. Do not let Betty see that we have been talking about her. She is as quick as a steel trap.”

Betty threw some wood on the smoldering fire in the little stone grate and sat down to think.

Like everyone who has a humiliating secret, Betty was eternally suspicious and feared the very walls would guess it.

Swift as light came the thought that her brother and his wife had suspected her secret and had been talking about her, perhaps pitying her.

But Jonathan brought her no word, and after hoping against hope and wearing away the long days looking for a letter that never came, she ceased to hope and plunged into despair.

The last few months had changed her life; changed it as only constant thinking, and suffering that must be hidden from the world, can change the life of a young girl.

She had been so intent on her own thoughts, so deep in her dreams that she had taken no heed of other people.

“

I will forget him! I will tear him out of my heart!

” she exclaimed passionately. “He never deserved my love. He did not care. I was a little fool to let him amuse himself with me. He went away and forgot. I hate him.”

… he left the settlement to go on the expedition up the Monongahela River his intention had been to return to the fort as soon as he had finished his work, but what he did do was only another illustration of that fatality which affects everything.

Man hopefully makes his plans and an inexorable destiny works out what it has in store for him.

The men of the expedition returned to Fort Henry in due time, but Alfred had been unable to accompany them. He had sustained a painful injury and had been compelled to go to Fort Pitt for medical assistance.

Here there can be nothing for me but Indians, hard work, privation, and trouble. Yet I could not get here quickly enough. Pshaw! What use to speak of the possibilities of a new country. I cannot deceive myself. It is she.

I would walk a thousand miles and starve myself for months just for one glimpse of her sweet face.

Knowing this what care I for all the rest. How strange she should ride down to the old sycamore tree yesterday the moment I was there and thinking of her. Evidently she had just returned from her visit. I wonder if she ever cared.

“A beautiful Indian girl once dwelt in the pine forests,” began Myeerah, with her eyes cast down and her hand seeking Isaac’s. “

Her voice was like rippling waters, her beauty like the rising sun.

From near and from far came warriors to see the fair face of this maiden. She smiled on them all and they called her Smiling Moon. Now there lived on the Great Lake a Wyandot chief. He was young and bold.

“

Stormed the wild tempest; thundered the rivers of ice; chill blew the north wind, the cold northwest wind, against the mild south wind; snow-spirits and hail-spirits fled before the warm raindrops; the white mountains melted, and lo! it was summer.

“On the mountain top Tarhe waited for his bride. Never wearying, ever faithful he watched many years. There he turned to stone. There he stands today, the Standing Stone of ages.

“Listen. I’m not a man fer words, and it’s hard to tell. Betty loves you. I’ve carried her in my arms when she was a baby. I’ve made her toys and played with her when she was a little girl. I know all her moods.

I can read her like I do the moss, and the leaves, and the bark of the forest.

I’ve loved her all my life. That’s why I know she loves you. I can feel it. Her happiness is the only dear thing left on earth fer me. And that’s why I’m your friend.”

“Don’t cry, little one,” he said, tenderly. “Don’t grieve fer me.

My love fer you has been the only good in my life. It’s been happiness to love you.

Don’t think of me. I can see you and Alfred in a happy home, surrounded by bright-eyed children.

The light from the window shone on his face. How deathly white it was! There was not a vestige of color in it; the brow looked like chiseled marble; dark shadows underlined the eyes, and the whole face was expressive of weariness and pain.

There are times when a woman’s love is all motherliness.

All at once this man seemed to Betty like a helpless child. She felt her heart go out to the poor sufferer with a feeling before unknown. She forgot her pride and her fears and her disappointments.

She felt her heart go out to the poor sufferer with a feeling before unknown. She forgot her pride and her fears and her disappointments. She remembered only that this strong man lay there at death’s door because he had resented an insult to her.

The past with all its bitterness rolled away and was lost, and in its place welled up a tide of forgiveness strong and sweet and hopeful.

Her love, like a fire that had been choked and smothered, smoldering but never extinct, and which blazes up with the first breeze, warmed and quickened to life with the touch of her hand on his forehead.

How glad it made him feel to look out on the green woods and the broad, winding river; how sweet to his ears were the songs of the birds; how soothing was the drowsy hum of the bees in the fragrant honeysuckle by his window.

His hold on life had been slight and life was good.

He smiled in pitying derision as he remembered his recklessness. He had not been in love with life. In his gloomy moods he had often thought life was hardly worth the living. What sickly sentiment!

Nothing could have been more pleasing than Myeerah’s shy yet eloquent greeting. She gave Alfred her little hand and said in her figurative style of speaking, “Myeerah is happy for you and for others.

You are strong like the West Wind that never dies.

”

The fate which had overtaken so many border forts was to be theirs. They were lost! And every man thought not of himself, cared not for himself, but for those innocent children, those brave young girls and heroic women.

A man can die. He is glorious when he calmly accepts death; but when he fights like a tiger, when he stands at bay his back to the wall, a broken weapon in his hand, bloody, defiant, game to the end, then he is sublime.

Then he wrings respect from the souls of even his bitterest foes. Then he is avenged even in his death.

When night came the exhausted and almost famished besiegers sought rest and food.

The moon came out clear and beautiful, as if ashamed of her traitor’s part of the night before, and brightened up the valley, bathing the Fort, the river, and the forest in her silver light.

Shortly after daybreak the next morning the Indians, despairing of success, held a powwow.