CHAPTER XIII.
RETURN TO LIFE.
Charity is a virtue loudly preached in our age, but unfortunatelypractised by few. The story of the good Samaritan finds but scantyapplication in the Old World, and if we would discover charity exercisedsacredly and simply, as the gospel teaches, we must obtain our examplesfrom the deserts of the New World.
This is sad to say, even more sad to prove, but mankind is not to blamefor it; the age alone must be held responsible for this egotism, whichhas for some years past been planted in the heart of man, and reignsthere supreme. To two causes must be attributed the personalism andegotism which crown the actions of the great human family in Europe; thediscovery of gold in California, Australia, and on Frazer River, and,above all, the Stock Exchange.
The Bourse is the scourge of the Old World; so soon as everybody fanciedthat he was enabled to enrich himself between today and tomorrow, no onethought any longer of his neighbour, who remained poor, save as beingincapable of ameliorating his position. The result is, that the men whohave the courage to leave the intoxicating maelstrom that surroundsthem, to despise those riches which flash around them, and go under theimpulse of Christian Charity, the holiest and least rewarded of all thevirtues, to bury themselves among savages, amid hordes most hostile toevery good and honourable feeling, in the most deadly countries--suchmen, we say, who, impelled solely by a divine feeling, abandon allearthly enjoyments, are chosen vessels, and in every respect deservewell of humanity.
Their number is much larger than might be supposed at the first blush,and that is very logical; the passion for devotion must go side by sidewith the thirst for gold, in order that the eternal balance of good andevil which governs the world should remain in those equal proportionswhich are conditions of its vitality and prosperity.
Red Cedar's condition was serious; the moral commotion he underwent inrecognising the man whom he had once attempted to assassinate, hadbrought on a frightful attack of delirium. The wretch, a prey to themost gnawing remorse, was tortured by the hideous phantoms of hisvictim, evoked by his diseased imagination, and which stalked round hisbed like a legion of demons. The night he passed was terrible. FatherSeraphin, Ellen, and Valentine's mother did not leave him for a second,watching over him anxiously, and frequently compelled to struggle withhim in order to prevent him dashing his head against the trees, in theparoxysms of the crisis that tortured him.
Strange coincidence! The bandit had a similar wound in his shoulder tothe one he had formerly dealt the missionary, which had compelled thelatter to go and seek a cure in Europe, a voyage from which he had onlyreturned a few days, when Providence permitted him to find the man whowished to assassinate him, lying almost dead at the foot of a tree.
Towards day the crisis grew calmer, and the squatter fell into a speciesof slumber, which deprived him of the faculties of feeling andperception. No one else slept during this long and mournful night, spentin the heart of the forest; and when Father Seraphin saw that Red Cedarwas calmer, he ordered the Indians to prepare a litter to receive him.They were much disinclined to the task; they had known the squatter fora lengthened period, and these primitive men could not understand why,instead of killing him when chance threw him into his power, themissionary lavished his assistance on such a villain, who had committedso many crimes, and whose death would have been a blessing to theprairie. It required all the devotion they had vowed to Father Seraphinfor them to consent to do, very unwillingly we allow, what he orderedthem.
When the litter was, ready, dry leaves and grass were spread over it,and the squatter was laid on this couch in an almost complete state ofinsensibility. Before leaving the forest the missionary, who knew hownecessary it was to rekindle the drooping faith of the redskins, for thesake of the patient, resolved to offer the holy sacrifice of mass. Analtar was improvised on a grassy mound, covered with a rag of whitecloth, and the mass was read, served by one of the Indians, who offeredhis services spontaneously.
Assuredly, in the large European cathedrals, beneath the splendid archesof stone, blackened by time, to the imposing murmur of the organre-echoing through the aisles, the ceremonies of the faith are performedwith greater pomp; but I doubt whether they be so with more magnificentsimplicity, or are listened to with greater fervour than this mass, saidin the heart of a forest, accompanied by the striking melodies of thedesert, by the pale-browed priest, whose eyes glistened with a holyenthusiasm, and who prayed for his assassin groaning at his feet.
When mass was over, Father Seraphin gave a signal, four Indians raisedthe litter on their shoulders, and the party set out, Ellen beingmounted on the horse of one of the bearers. The journey was long; themissionary had left Galveston to go in search of Valentine, but a hunteraccustomed to traverse great distances, and whose life is made up ofincessant excursions, is very difficult to discover in the desert; themissionary, therefore, decided on going to the winter village of theComanches, where he was certain to obtain precise information about theman he wished to see.
But his meeting with Red Cedar prevented him from carrying out thisplan; Unicorn and Valentine were too inveterate against the squatter forthe missionary to hope that they would consent to resign theirvengeance. The conjuncture was difficult; Red Cedar was a proscript inthe fullest sense of the term; one of those outlaws, whose number isfortunately very limited, who have the whole human race as their foe,and to whom every country is hostile.
And yet this man must be saved; and after ripe reflection, FatherSeraphin's resolution was formed. He proceeded, followed by his wholeparty, to the grotto where we have met him before, a grotto which oftenserved as the Trail-hunter's abode, but where, in all probability, hewould not be at this moment. Through an extraordinary chance, themissionary passed unseen within a pistol shot of the spot whereValentine and his friends were encamped.
At sunset they prepared for passing the night; Father Seraphin removedthe bandage he had placed on Red Cedar's wounds, and dressed them: thelatter allowed it to be done, not seeming to notice that any attentionwas being paid him; his prostration was extreme. The wounds were allhealthy; that on the shoulder was the worst, but all foreboded a speedyrecovery.
When supper was over, prayers said, and the Indians, wrapped in theirblankets, were lying on the grass to rest from the fatigues of the day,the missionary, after assuring himself that Red Cedar was quietlysleeping, made a sign to the two women to come and sit by his side, nearthe fire lit to keep off wild beasts. Father Seraphin was slightlyacquainted with Ellen; he remembered to have frequently met the girl,and even conversed with her in the forest, at the period when her fatherhad so audaciously installed himself on Don Miguel Zarate's estates.
Ellen's character had pleased him; he had found in her such simplicityof heart and innate honour, that he frequently asked himself how socharming a creature could be the daughter of so hardened a villain asRed Cedar: this seemed to him the more incomprehensible, because thegirl must have needed a powerful character to resist the influence ofthe evil examples she constantly had before her. Hence he had taken alively interest in her, and urged her to persevere in her goodsentiments. He had let her see that one day God would reward her byremoving her from the perverse medium in which fate had cast her, torestore her to that great human family of which she was ignorant.
When the two women were seated at his side, the missionary gave them, inhis gentle, sympathising way, a paternal admonition to support withpatience and resignation the tribulations Heaven sent on them; then hebegged Ellen to tell him in detail all that had occurred in the prairiesince his departure for France. The girl's narrative was long and sad,and frequently interrupted by tears which she could not repress.Valentine's mother shuddered on hearing things so extraordinary to herdescribed; heavy tears ran down her wrinkled cheek, and she crossedherself, muttering compassionately--
"Poor child! What a horrible life."
For, in truth Ellen was describing, her life; she had witnessed andsuffered from all these terrors, all these atrocities, whos
e sinisterand bloody images she unrolled before her hearers. When the story wasended she buried her face in her hands and wept silently, crushed by therevival of such poignant sorrows and the re-opening of still bleedingwounds. The missionary gave her a long look, stamped with gentle pity.He took her hand, pressed it, and bending over her, said with an accentof kindness which went straight to her heart--
"Weep, poor girl, for you have suffered terribly; weep, but be strong;God, who tries you, doubtless reserves for you other blows more terriblethan those which have fallen on you; do not try to repulse the cup whichis brought to your lips; the more you suffer in this life, the morehappy and glorified you will be in another. If God chastise you, a poorstainless lamb, it is because He loves you; happy those whom He thuschastises! Derive your strength from prayer, for that elevates the soul,and renders it better; do not yield to despair, for that is a suggestionof the demon who renders man rebellious to the teaching of Providence.Think of your divine Master, remember all He suffered for us; thus youwill recognise how little your sorrows are when compared with His, andyou will hope; for Providence is not blind; when it weighs heavily on acreature, it is preparing to reward her a hundredfold for pastsufferings."
"Alas, father," Ellen replied, sorrowfully, "I am only a miserablechild, without strength or courage; the burden laid on me is very heavy;still, if it be the will of the Lord that it should be so, may His holyname be blessed! I will try to stifle the feelings of revolt which areat times a wound in my heart, and struggle without complaining againstthe fate that overwhelms me."
"Good, my sister, good," the priest said; "the great God, who searchesall hearts, will have pity on you."
He then made her rise, and led her a short distance to a spot where abed of dry leaves had been prepared by his care.
"Try and sleep, my child," he said; "fatigue is crushing you; a fewhours' rest is indispensable for you."
"I will strive to obey you, father."
"May the angels watch over your slumbers, my child," the priest replied;"and may the Almighty bless you, as I do."
Then he returned slowly and thoughtfully to Valentine's mother. Therewas a long silence, during which the missionary reflected deeply; atlength he said--
"Madam, you have heard this poor girl's narrative; her father waswounded when fighting with your son. Valentine, I feel assured, is notfar from us; still, the man we have saved claims all our care, and wemust watch that he does not fall into the hands of his enemies, Itherefore ask you to delay awhile in rejoining your son, for Red Cedarmust be placed in safety. Above all, I implore you to maintain thedeepest silence as to the events of which you have been and will be awitness. Forgive me, but I implore you to delay the time of yourmeeting."
"Father," she said, spontaneously, "for ten years, without despairingfor a day or a moment, I have been patiently awaiting the hour whichwill rejoin me to my beloved son. Now that I am certain of seeing himagain, that no doubt as to his existence dwells in my heart, I can waita few days longer. I should be ungrateful to God and to you, who havedone so much for me, if I insisted on the contrary course. Act as yourcharity and your devotion impel you to do; fulfil your duty withouttroubling yourself about me; God has willed it that we should comeacross this man. The ways of Providence are often incomprehensible; obeyit by saving him, however unworthy he may be of pardon."
"I expected your answer: still, I am pleased to see that you confirm mein what I intend to do."
The next morning, at daybreak, they started again, after saying prayerstogether, according to the custom established by the missionary. RedCedar was still in the same state of prostration, and the two followingdays passed without any incident worthy of recording. At the evening ofthe third day they entered the defile, in the centre of which, on one ofthe mountain sides facing it; the cavern was. Red Cedar was carried upto it cautiously, and placed in one of the distant compartments, farfrom all external sounds, and so as to be concealed from the sight ofany strangers whom accident might lead to the cavern while he was in it.
It was with a feeling of indescribable joy that Valentine's motherentered the grotto which served as an abode to that son whom she hadbeen so long afraid she should never see again, and her emotion wasextreme on finding a few valueless articles used by Valentine. Theworthy woman, so truly a mother, shut herself up alone in thecompartment which the hunter had made his sleeping room, and there, faceto face with her reminiscences; she remained for several hours absorbedin herself.
The missionary pointed to each the room they would occupy; he left hiscomrades to their repose, and sat down by the side of the wounded man,where Ellen already was installed as nurse.
"Why do you not sleep, my child?" he asked her.
Ellen pointed to the sufferer with a gesture full of nobility.
"Let me watch over him," she said; "he is my father."
The missionary smiled softly and withdrew. At daybreak he returned. RedCedar, on hearing him come, gave vent to a sigh, and rose withdifficulty on his bed.
"How are you, brother?" the missionary asked, in his gentle voice.
A febrile flush covered the bandit's face, a cold perspiration beaded onhis temples, his eyes flashed, and he said in a low voice, broken by theextreme emotion that oppressed him--
"Father, I am a wretch unworthy of your pity."
"My son," the priest answered gently, "you are a poor straying creature,on whom I doubt not God will have pity, if your repentance be sincere."
Red Cedar let his eyes sink; a convulsive movement agitated his limbs.
"Father," he muttered, "would you teach me how to make the sign of thecross?"
At this strange request in the mouth of such a man, Father Seraphinclasped his hands fervently, and raised his eyes to Heaven with anexpression of sublime gratitude. Was the evil angel defeated? Or was ita farce played by this perverse man to deceive his saviour, and by thesemeans escape the numerous enemies that sought his death?
Alas! Man is so extraordinary a composite of good and evil, that perhapsat this moment, and in spite of himself, Red Cedar was acting in goodfaith.