Chapter XXI.
"Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But nothing he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him."
Charles Wolfe, "The Burial of Sir John Moore," vi.
The reader must imagine the horror that daughters would experience, atunexpectedly beholding the shocking spectacle that was placed before theeyes of Judith and Esther, as related in the close of the last chapter.We shall pass over the first emotions, the first acts of filial piety,and proceed with the narrative by imagining rather than relating most ofthe revolting features of the scene. The mutilated and ragged head wasbound up, the unseemly blood was wiped from the face of the sufferer,the other appliances required by appearances and care were resorted to,and there was time to enquire into the more serious circumstances of thecase. The facts were never known until years later in all their details,simple as they were, but they may as well be related here, as it can bedone in a few words. In the struggle with the Hurons, Hutter had beenstabbed by the knife of the old warrior, who had used the discretionto remove the arms of every one but himself. Being hard pushed by hissturdy foe, his knife had settled the matter. This occurred just asthe door was opened, and Hurry burst out upon the platform, as hasbeen previously related. This was the secret of neither party's havingappeared in the subsequent struggle; Hutter having been literallydisabled, and his conqueror being ashamed to be seen with the traces ofblood about him, after having used so many injunctions to convince hisyoung warriors of the necessity of taking their prisoners alive. Whenthe three Hurons returned from the chase, and it was determined toabandon the castle and join the party on the land, Hutter was simplyscalped to secure the usual trophy, and was left to die by inches, ashas been done in a thousand similar instances by the ruthless warriorsof this part of the American continent. Had the injury of Hutter beenconfined to his head, he might have recovered, however, for it wasthe blow of the knife that proved mortal. There are moments of vividconsciousness, when the stern justice of God stands forth in colours soprominent as to defy any attempts to veil them from the sight, howeverunpleasant they may appear, or however anxious we may be to avoidrecognising it. Such was now the fact with Judith and Hetty, who bothperceived the decrees of a retributive Providence, in the manner oftheir father's suffering, as a punishment for his own recent attemptson the Iroquois. This was seen and felt by Judith with the keenness ofperception and sensibility that were suited to her character, whilethe impression made on the simpler mind of her sister was perhaps lesslively, though it might well have proved more lasting.
"Oh! Judith," exclaimed the weak minded girl, as soon as their firstcare had been bestowed on sufferer. "Father went for scalps, himself,and now where is his own? The Bible might have foretold this dreadfulpunishment!"
"Hush, Hetty--hush, poor sister--He opens his eyes; he may hear andunderstand you. 'Tis as you say and think, but 'tis too dreadful tospeak."
"Water," ejaculated Hutter, as it might be by a desperate effort, thatrendered his voice frightfully deep and strong for one as near death ashe evidently was--"Water--foolish girls--will you let me die of thirst?"
Water was brought and administered to the sufferer; the first hehad tasted in hours of physical anguish. It had the double effect ofclearing his throat and of momentarily reviving his sinking system. Hiseyes opened with that anxious, distended gaze which is apt to accompanythe passage of a soul surprised by death, and he seemed disposed tospeak.
"Father," said Judith, inexpressibly pained by his deplorable situation,and this so much the more from her ignorance of what remedies oughtto be applied--"Father, can we do any thing for you? Can Hetty and Irelieve your pain?"
"Father!" slowly repeated the old man. "No, Judith; no, Hetty--I'm nofather. She was your mother, but I'm no father. Look in the chest--'Tisall there--give me more water."
The girls complied, and Judith, whose early recollections extendedfarther back than her sister's, and who on every account had moredistinct impressions of the past, felt an uncontrollable impulse of joyas she heard these words. There had never been much sympathy between herreputed father and herself, and suspicions of this very truth had oftenglanced across her mind, in consequence of dialogues she had overheardbetween Hutter and her mother. It might be going too far to say she hadnever loved him, but it is not so to add that she rejoiced it was nolonger a duty. With Hetty the feeling was different. Incapable ofmaking all the distinctions of her sister, her very nature was fullof affection, and she had loved her reputed parent, though far lesstenderly than the real parent, and it grieved her now to hear himdeclare he was not naturally entitled to that love. She felt a doublegrief, as if his death and his words together were twice depriving herof parents. Yielding to her feelings, the poor girl went aside and wept.
The very opposite emotions of the two girls kept both silent for a longtime. Judith gave water to the sufferer frequently, but she forbore tourge him with questions, in some measure out of consideration for hiscondition, but, if truth must be said, quite as much lest something heshould add in the way of explanation might disturb her pleasing beliefthat she was not Thomas Hutter's child. At length Hetty dried her tears,and came and seated herself on a stool by the side of the dying man, whohad been placed at his length on the floor, with his head supported bysome coarse vestments that had been left in the house.
"Father," she said "you will let me call you father, though you say youare not one--Father, shall I read the Bible to you--mother always saidthe Bible was good for people in trouble. She was often in troubleherself, and then she made me read the Bible to her--for Judith wasn'tas fond of the Bible as I am--and it always did her good. Many is thetime I've known mother begin to listen with the tears streaming from hereyes, and end with smiles and gladness. Oh! father, you don't know howmuch good the Bible can do, for you've never tried it. Now, I'll read achapter and it will soften your heart as it softened the hearts of theHurons."
While poor Hetty had so much reverence for, and faith in, the virtuesof the Bible, her intellect was too shallow to enable her fully toappreciate its beauties, or to fathom its profound and sometimesmysterious wisdom. That instinctive sense of right which appeared toshield her from the commission of wrong, and even cast a mantle ofmoral loveliness and truth around her character, could not penetrateabstrusities, or trace the nice affinities between cause and effect,beyond their more obvious and indisputable connection, though sheseldom failed to see all the latter, and to defer to all their justconsequences. In a word, she was one of those who feel and act correctlywithout being able to give a logical reason for it, even admittingrevelation as her authority. Her selections from the Bible, therefore,were commonly distinguished by the simplicity of her own mind, and wereoftener marked for containing images of known and palpable things thanfor any of the higher cast of moral truths with which the pages of thatwonderful book abound--wonderful, and unequalled, even without referringto its divine origin, as a work replete with the profoundest philosophy,expressed in the noblest language. Her mother, with a connection thatwill probably strike the reader, had been fond of the book of Job, andHetty had, in a great measure, learned to read by the frequent lessonsshe had received from the different chapters of this venerable andsublime poem--now believed to be the oldest book in the world. On thisoccasion the poor girl was submissive to her training, and she turned tothat well known part of the sacred volume, with the readiness with whichthe practised counsel would cite his authorities from the stores oflegal wisdom. In selecting the particular chapter, she was influenced bythe caption, and she chose that which stands in our English versionas "Job excuseth his desire of death." This she read steadily, frombeginning to end, in a sweet, low and plaintive voice; hoping devoutlythat the allegorical and abstruse sentences might convey to the heart ofthe sufferer the consolation he needed. It is another peculiarity of thecomprehensive wisdom of the Bible that scarce a chapter, unless itbe strictly narration, can be turned to,
that does not contain somesearching truth that is applicable to the condition of every humanheart, as well as to the temporal state of its owner, either throughthe workings of that heart, or even in a still more direct form. In thisinstance, the very opening sentence--"Is there not an appointed time toman on earth?" was startling, and as Hetty proceeded, Hutter applied, orfancied he could apply many aphorisms and figures to his own worldlyand mental condition. As life is ebbing fast, the mind clings eagerly tohope when it is not absolutely crushed by despair. The solemn words "Ihave sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? Whyhast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden tomyself," struck Hutter more perceptibly than the others, and, though tooobscure for one of his blunted feelings and obtuse mind either to feelor to comprehend in their fullest extent, they had a directness ofapplication to his own state that caused him to wince under them.
"Don't you feel better now, father?" asked Hetty, closing the volume."Mother was always better when she had read the Bible."
"Water," returned Hutter--"give me water, Judith. I wonder if my tonguewill always be so hot! Hetty, isn't there something in the Bible aboutcooling the tongue of a man who was burning in Hell fire?"
Judith turned away shocked, but Hetty eagerly sought the passage, whichshe read aloud to the conscience stricken victim of his own avariciouslongings.
"That's it, poor Hetty; yes, that's it. My tongue wants cooling,now--what will it be hereafter?"
This appeal silenced even the confiding Hetty, for she had no answerready for a confession so fraught with despair. Water, so long as itcould relieve the sufferer, it was in the power of the sisters to give,and from time to time it was offered to the lips of the sufferer as heasked for it. Even Judith prayed. As for Hetty, as soon as she foundthat her efforts to make her father listen to her texts were no longerrewarded with success, she knelt at his side and devoutly repeatedthe words which the Saviour has left behind him as a model for humanpetitions. This she continued to do, at intervals, as long as it seemedto her that the act could benefit the dying man. Hutter, however,lingered longer than the girls had believed possible when they firstfound him. At times he spoke intelligibly, though his lips oftener movedin utterance of sounds that carried no distinct impressionsto the mind. Judith listened intently, and she heard thewords--"husband"--"death"-"pirate"--"law"--"scalps"--and several othersof similar import, though there was no sentence to tell the preciseconnection in which they were used. Still they were sufficientlyexpressive to be understood by one whose ears had not escaped all therumours that had been circulated to her reputed father's discredit, andwhose comprehension was as quick as her faculties were attentive.
During the whole of the painful hour that succeeded, neither of thesisters bethought her sufficiently of the Hurons to dread their return.It seemed as if their desolation and grief placed them above the dangerof such an interruption, and when the sound of oars was at length heard,even Judith, who alone had any reason to apprehend the enemy, did notstart, but at once understood that the Ark was near. She went upon theplatform fearlessly, for should it turn out that Hurry was notthere, and that the Hurons were masters of the scow also, escape wasimpossible. Then she had the sort of confidence that is inspired byextreme misery. But there was no cause for any new alarm, Chingachgook,Hist, and Hurry all standing in the open part of the scow, cautiouslyexamining the building to make certain of the absence of the enemy.They, too, had seen the departure of the Hurons, as well as the approachof the canoe of the girls to the castle, and presuming on the latterfact, March had swept the scow up to the platform. A word sufficed toexplain that there was nothing to be apprehended, and the Ark was soonmoored in her old berth.
Judith said not a word concerning the condition of her father, but Hurryknew her too well not to understand that something was more than usuallywrong. He led the way, though with less of his confident bold mannerthan usual, into the house, and penetrating to the inner room, foundHutter lying on his back with Hetty sitting at his side, fanning himwith pious care. The events of the morning had sensibly changed themanner of Hurry. Notwithstanding his skill as a swimmer, and thereadiness with which he had adopted the only expedient that couldpossibly save him, the helplessness of being in the water, bound handand foot, had produced some such effect on him, as the near approachof punishment is known to produce on most criminals, leaving a vividimpression of the horrors of death upon his mind, and this too inconnection with a picture of bodily helplessness; the daring of this manbeing far more the offspring of vast physical powers, than of the energyof the will, or even of natural spirit. Such heroes invariably lose alarge portion of their courage with the failure of their strength, andthough Hurry was now unfettered and as vigorous as ever, events were toorecent to permit the recollection of his late deplorable condition tobe at all weakened. Had he lived a century, the occurrences of the fewmomentous minutes during which he was in the lake would have produced achastening effect on his character, if not always on his manner.
Hurry was not only shocked when he found his late associate in thisdesperate situation, but he was greatly surprised. During the strugglein the building, he had been far too much occupied himself to learn whathad befallen his comrade, and, as no deadly weapon had been used in hisparticular case, but every effort had been made to capture him withoutinjury, he naturally believed that Hutter had been overcome, while heowed his own escape to his great bodily strength, and to a fortunateconcurrence of extraordinary circumstances. Death, in the silence andsolemnity of a chamber, was a novelty to him. Though accustomed toscenes of violence, he had been unused to sit by the bedside and watchthe slow beating of the pulse, as it gradually grew weaker and weaker.Notwithstanding the change in his feelings, the manners of a life couldnot be altogether cast aside in a moment, and the unexpected sceneextorted a characteristic speech from the borderer.
"How now! old Tom," he said, "have the vagabonds got you at anadvantage, where you're not only down, but are likely to be kept down!I thought you a captyve it's true, but never supposed you so hard run asthis!"
Hutter opened his glassy eyes, and stared wildly at the speaker. A floodof confused recollections rushed on his wavering mind at the sight ofhis late comrade. It was evident that he struggled with his own images,and knew not the real from the unreal.
"Who are you?" he asked in a husky whisper, his failing strengthrefusing to aid him in a louder effort of his voice.
"Who are you?--You look like the mate of 'The Snow'--he was a giant,too, and near overcoming us."
"I'm your mate, Floating Tom, and your comrade, but have nothing to dowith any snow. It's summer now, and Harry March always quits the hillsas soon after the frosts set in, as is convenient."
"I know you--Hurry Skurry--I'll sell you a scalp!--a sound one, and of afull grown man--What'll you give?"
"Poor Tom! That scalp business hasn't turned out at all profitable, andI've pretty much concluded to give it up; and to follow a less bloodycalling."
"Have you got any scalp? Mine's gone--How does it feel to have a scalp?I know how it feels to lose one--fire and flames about the brain--anda wrenching at the heart--no--no--kill first, Hurry, and scalpafterwards."
"What does the old fellow mean, Judith? He talks like one that isgetting tired of the business as well as myself. Why have you bound uphis head? or, have the savages tomahawked him about the brains?"
"They have done that for him which you and he, Harry March, would haveso gladly done for them. His skin and hair have been torn from his headto gain money from the governor of Canada, as you would have torn theirsfrom the heads of the Hurons, to gain money from the Governor of York."
Judith spoke with a strong effort to appear composed, but it was neitherin her nature, nor in the feeling of the moment to speak altogetherwithout bitterness. The strength of her emphasis, indeed, as well as hermanner, caused Hetty to look up reproachfully.
"These are high words to come from Thomas Hutter's darter, as ThomasHutter lies dying before her eye
s," retorted Hurry.
"God be praised for that!--whatever reproach it may bring on my poormother, I am not Thomas Hutter's daughter."
"Not Thomas Hutter's darter!--Don't disown the old fellow in his lastmoments, Judith, for that's a sin the Lord will never overlook. Ifyou're not Thomas Hutter's darter, whose darter be you?"
This question rebuked the rebellious spirit of Judith, for, in gettingrid of a parent whom she felt it was a relief to find she might ownshe had never loved, she overlooked the important circumstance that nosubstitute was ready to supply his place.
"I cannot tell you, Harry, who my father was," she answered more mildly;"I hope he was an honest man, at least."
"Which is more than you think was the case with old Hutter? Well,Judith, I'll not deny that hard stories were in circulation consarningFloating Tom, but who is there that doesn't get a scratch, when an inimyholds the rake? There's them that say hard things of me, and even you,beauty as you be, don't always escape."
This was said with a view to set up a species of community of characterbetween the parties, and as the politicians are wont to express it, withulterior intentions. What might have been the consequences with one ofJudith's known spirit, as well as her assured antipathy to the speaker,it is not easy to say, for, just then, Hutter gave unequivocal signsthat his last moment was nigh. Judith and Hetty had stood by the dyingbed of their mother, and neither needed a monitor to warn them of thecrisis, and every sign of resentment vanished from the face of thefirst. Hutter opened his eyes, and even tried to feel about him with hishands, a sign that sight was failing. A minute later, his breathinggrew ghastly; a pause totally without respiration followed; and, then,succeeded the last, long drawn sigh, on which the spirit is supposedto quit the body. This sudden termination of the life of one who hadhitherto filled so important a place in the narrow scene on which he hadbeen an actor, put an end to all discussion.
The day passed by without further interruption, the Hurons, thoughpossessed of a canoe, appearing so far satisfied with their success asto have relinquished all immediate designs on the castle. It would nothave been a safe undertaking, indeed, to approach it under the rifles ofthose it was now known to contain, and it is probable that the truce wasmore owing to this circumstance than to any other. In the mean while thepreparations were made for the interment of Hutter. To bury him on theland was impracticable, and it was Hetty's wish that his body should lieby the side of that of her mother, in the lake. She had it in her powerto quote one of his speeches, in which he himself had called the lakethe "family burying ground," and luckily this was done without theknowledge of her sister, who would have opposed the plan, had she knownit, with unconquerable disgust. But Judith had not meddled with thearrangement, and every necessary disposition was made without herprivity or advice.
The hour chosen for the rude ceremony was just as the sun was setting,and a moment and a scene more suited to paying the last offices to oneof calm and pure spirit could not have been chosen. There are a mysteryand a solemn dignity in death, that dispose the living to regard theremains of even a malefactor with a certain degree of reverence. Allworldly distinctions have ceased; it is thought that the veil has beenremoved, and that the character and destiny of the departed are now asmuch beyond human opinions, as they are beyond human ken. In nothingis death more truly a leveller than in this, since, while it may beimpossible absolutely to confound the great with the low, the worthywith the unworthy, the mind feels it to be arrogant to assume a right tojudge of those who are believed to be standing at the judgment seatof God. When Judith was told that all was ready, she went upon theplatform, passive to the request of her sister, and then she first tookheed of the arrangement. The body was in the scow, enveloped in a sheet,and quite a hundred weight of stones, that had been taken from the fireplace, were enclosed with it, in order that it might sink. No otherpreparation seemed to be thought necessary, though Hetty carried herBible beneath her arm.
When all were on board the Ark, the singular habitation of the man whosebody it now bore to its final abode, was set in motion. Hurry was at theoars. In his powerful hands, indeed, they seemed little more than a pairof sculls, which were wielded without effort, and, as he was expert intheir use, the Delaware remained a passive spectator of the proceedings.The progress of the Ark had something of the stately solemnity of afuneral procession, the dip of the oars being measured, and the movementslow and steady. The wash of the water, as the blades rose and fell,kept time with the efforts of Hurry, and might have been likened to themeasured tread of mourners. Then the tranquil scene was in beautifulaccordance with a rite that ever associates with itself the idea of God.At that instant, the lake had not even a single ripple on its glassysurface, and the broad panorama of woods seemed to look down on the holytranquillity of the hour and ceremony in melancholy stillness. Judithwas affected to tears, and even Hurry, though he hardly knew why, wastroubled. Hetty preserved the outward signs of tranquillity, buther inward grief greatly surpassed that of her sister, since heraffectionate heart loved more from habit and long association, thanfrom the usual connections of sentiment and taste. She was sustained byreligious hope, however, which in her simple mind usually occupied thespace that worldly feelings filled in that of Judith, and she was notwithout an expectation of witnessing some open manifestation of divinepower, on an occasion so solemn. Still she was neither mystical norexaggerated; her mental imbecility denying both. Nevertheless herthoughts had generally so much of the purity of a better world aboutthem that it was easy for her to forget earth altogether, and to thinkonly of heaven. Hist was serious, attentive and interested, for shehad often seen the interments of the pale-faces, though never one thatpromised to be as peculiar as this; while the Delaware, though grave,and also observant, in his demeanor was stoical and calm.
Hetty acted as pilot, directing Hurry how to proceed, to find that spotin the lake which she was in the habit of terming "mother's grave." Thereader will remember that the castle stood near the southern extremityof a shoal that extended near half a mile northerly, and it was at thefarthest end of this shallow water that Floating Tom had seen fit todeposit the remains of his wife and child. His own were now in thecourse of being placed at their side. Hetty had marks on the landby which she usually found the spot, although the position of thebuildings, the general direction of the shoal, and the beautifultransparency of the water all aided her, the latter even allowing thebottom to be seen. By these means the girl was enabled to note theirprogress, and at the proper time she approached March, whispering, "Now,Hurry you can stop rowing. We have passed the stone on the bottom, andmother's grave is near."
March ceased his efforts, immediately dropping the kedge and taking thewarp in his hand in order to check the scow. The Ark turned slowly roundunder this restraint, and when it was quite stationary, Hetty was seenat its stern, pointing into the water, the tears streaming from hereyes, in ungovernable natural feeling. Judith had been present at theinterment of her mother, but she had never visited the spot since. Theneglect proceeded from no indifference to the memory of the deceased;for she had loved her mother, and bitterly had she found occasion tomourn her loss; but she was averse to the contemplation of death; andthere had been passages in her own life since the day of that intermentwhich increased this feeling, and rendered her, if possible, still morereluctant to approach the spot that contained the remains of one whosesevere lessons of female morality and propriety had been deepened andrendered doubly impressive by remorse for her own failings. With Hetty,the case had been very different. To her simple and innocent mind, theremembrance of her mother brought no other feeling than one of gentlesorrow; a grief that is so often termed luxurious even, because itassociates with itself the images of excellence and the purity of abetter state of existence. For an entire summer, she had been inthe habit of repairing to the place after night-fall; and carefullyanchoring her canoe so as not to disturb the body, she would sit andhold fancied conversations with the deceased, sing sweet hymns to theevening air, and
repeat the orisons that the being who now slumberedbelow had taught her in infancy. Hetty had passed her happiest hours inthis indirect communion with the spirit of her mother; the wildnessof Indian traditions and Indian opinions, unconsciously to herself,mingling with the Christian lore received in childhood. Once she hadeven been so far influenced by the former as to have bethought her ofperforming some of those physical rites at her mother's grave which theredmen are known to observe; but the passing feeling had been obscuredby the steady, though mild light of Christianity, which never ceasedto burn in her gentle bosom. Now her emotions were merely the naturaloutpourings of a daughter that wept for a mother whose love wasindelibly impressed on the heart, and whose lessons had been tooearnestly taught to be easily forgotten by one who had so littletemptation to err.
There was no other priest than nature at that wild and singular funeralrite. March cast his eyes below, and through the transparent medium ofthe clear water, which was almost as pure as air, he saw what Hetty wasaccustomed to call "mother's grave." It was a low, straggling mound ofearth, fashioned by no spade, out of a corner of which gleamed a bit ofthe white cloth that formed the shroud of the dead. The body had beenlowered to the bottom, and Hutter brought earth from the shore and letit fall upon it, until all was concealed. In this state the place hadremained until the movement of the waters revealed the solitary sign ofthe uses of the spot that has just been mentioned.
Even the most rude and brawling are chastened by the ceremonies of afuneral. March felt no desire to indulge his voice in any of its coarseoutbreakings, and was disposed to complete the office he had undertakenin decent sobriety. Perhaps he reflected on the retribution thathad alighted on his late comrade, and bethought him of the frightfuljeopardy in which his own life had so lately been placed. He signifiedto Judith that all was ready, received her directions to proceed, and,with no other assistant than his own vast strength, raised the body andbore it to the end of the scow. Two parts of a rope were passed beneaththe legs and shoulders, as they are placed beneath coffins, and then thecorpse was slowly lowered beneath the surface of the lake.
"Not there--Harry March--no, not there," said Judith, shudderinginvoluntarily; "do not lower it quite so near the spot where motherlies!"
"Why not, Judith?" asked Hetty, earnestly. "They lived together in life,and should lie together in death."
"No--no--Harry March, further off--further off. Poor Hetty, you know notwhat you say. Leave me to order this."
"I know I am weak-minded, Judith, and that you are clever--but, surelya husband should be placed near a wife. Mother always said that this wasthe way they bury in Christian churchyards."
This little controversy was conducted earnestly, but in smotheredvoices, as if the speakers feared that the dead might overhear them.Judith could not contend with her sister at such a moment, but asignificant gesture induced March to lower the body at a little distancefrom that of his wife; when he withdrew the cords, and the act wasperformed.
"There's an end of Floating Tom!" exclaimed Hurry, bending overthe scow, and gazing through the water at the body. "He was a bravecompanion on a scout, and a notable hand with traps. Don't weep, Judith,don't be overcome, Hetty, for the righteousest of us all must die; andwhen the time comes, lamentations and tears can't bring the dead tolife. Your father will be a loss to you, no doubt; most fathers are aloss, especially to onmarried darters; but there's a way to cure thatevil, and you're both too young and handsome to live long withoutfinding it out. When it's agreeable to hear what an honest andonpretending man has to say, Judith, I should like to talk a little withyou, apart."
Judith had scarce attended to this rude attempt of Hurry's atconsolation, although she necessarily understood its general drift, andhad a tolerably accurate notion of its manner. She was weeping at therecollection of her mother's early tenderness, and painful images oflong forgotten lessons and neglected precepts were crowding her mind.The words of Hurry, however, recalled her to the present time, andabrupt and unseasonable as was their import, they did not producethose signs of distaste that one might have expected from the girl'scharacter. On the contrary, she appeared to be struck with some suddenidea, gazed intently for a moment at the young man, dried her eyes, andled the way to the other end of the scow, signifying her wish for him tofollow. Here she took a seat and motioned for March to place himself ather side. The decision and earnestness with which all this was done alittle intimidated her companion, and Judith found it necessary to openthe subject herself.
"You wish to speak to me of marriage, Harry March," she said, "andI have come here, over the grave of my parents, as it mightbe--no--no--over the grave of my poor, dear, dear, mother, to hear whatyou have to say."
"This is oncommon, and you have a skearful way with you this evening,Judith," answered Hurry, more disturbed than he would have cared to own,"but truth is truth, and it shall come out, let what will follow. Youwell know, gal, that I've long thought you the comeliest young woman myeyes ever beheld, and that I've made no secret of that fact, either hereon the lake, out among the hunters and trappers, or in the settlements."
"Yes--yes, I've heard this before, and I suppose it to be true,"answered Judith with a sort of feverish impatience.
"When a young man holds such language of any particular young woman,it's reasonable to calculate he sets store by her."
"True--true, Hurry--all this you've told me, again and again."
"Well, if it's agreeable, I should think a woman coul'n't hear it toooften. They all tell me this is the way with your sex, that nothingpleases them more than to repeat over and over, for the hundredth time,how much you like 'em, unless it be to talk to 'em of their good looks!"
"No doubt--we like both, on most occasions, but this is an uncommonmoment, Hurry, and vain words should not be too freely used. I wouldrather hear you speak plainly."
"You shall have your own way, Judith, and I some suspect you alwayswill. I've often told you that I not only like you better than any otheryoung woman going, or, for that matter, better than all the young womengoing, but you must have obsarved, Judith, that I've never asked you, inup and down tarms, to marry me."
"I have observed both," returned the girl, a smile struggling abouther beautiful mouth, in spite of the singular and engrossing intentnesswhich caused her cheeks to flush and lighted her eyes with a brilliancythat was almost dazzling--"I have observed both, and have thought thelast remarkable for a man of Harry March's decision and fearlessness."
"There's been a reason, gal, and it's one that troubles me even now--nay,don't flush up so, and look fiery like, for there are thoughts whichwill stick long in any man's mind, as there be words that will stick inhis throat--but, then ag'in, there's feelin's that will get the betterof 'em all, and to these feelin's I find I must submit. You've no longera father, or a mother, Judith, and it's morally unpossible that you andHetty could live here, alone, allowing it was peace and the Iroquois wasquiet; but, as matters stand, not only would you starve, but you'd bothbe prisoners, or scalped, afore a week was out. It's time to think of achange and a husband, and, if you'll accept of me, all that's past shallbe forgotten, and there's an end on't."
Judith had difficulty in repressing her impatience until this rudedeclaration and offer were made, which she evidently wished to hear,and which she now listened to with a willingness that might well haveexcited hope. She hardly allowed the young man to conclude, so eager wasshe to bring him to the point, and so ready to answer.
"There--Hurry--that's enough," she said, raising a hand as if to stophim--"I understand you as well as if you were to talk a month. Youprefer me to other girls, and you wish me to become your wife."
"You put it in better words than I can do, Judith, and I wish you tofancy them said just as you most like to hear 'em."
"They're plain enough, Harry, and 'tis fitting they should be so. Thisis no place to trifle or deceive in. Now, listen to my answer, whichshall be, in every tittle, as sincere as your offer. There is a reason,March, why I should neve
r--
"I suppose I understand you, Judith, but if I'm willing to overlook thatreason, it's no one's consarn but mine--Now, don't brighten up like thesky at sundown, for no offence is meant, and none should be taken."
"I do not brighten up, and will not take offence," said Judith,struggling to repress her indignation, in a way she had never found itnecessary to exert before. "There is a reason why I should not, cannot,ever be your wife, Hurry, that you seem to overlook, and which it ismy duty now to tell you, as plainly as you have asked me to consent tobecome so. I do not, and I am certain that I never shall, love you wellenough to marry you. No man can wish for a wife who does not preferhim to all other men, and when I tell you this frankly, I suppose youyourself will thank me for my sincerity."
"Ah! Judith, them flaunting, gay, scarlet-coated officers of thegarrisons have done all this mischief!"
"Hush, March; do not calumniate a daughter over her mother's grave! Donot, when I only wish to treat you fairly, give me reason to call forevil on your head in bitterness of heart! Do not forget that I am awoman, and that you are a man; and that I have neither father, norbrother, to revenge your words!"
"Well, there is something in the last, and I'll say no more. Take time,Judith, and think better on this."
"I want no time--my mind has long been made up, and I have only waitedfor you to speak plainly, to answer plainly. We now understand eachother, and there is no use in saying any more."
The impetuous earnestness of the girl awed the young man, for neverbefore had he seen her so serious and determined. In most, of theirprevious interviews she had met his advances with evasion or sarcasm,but these Hurry had mistaken for female coquetry, and had supposed mighteasily be converted into consent. The struggle had been with himself,about offering, nor had he ever seriously believed it possible thatJudith would refuse to become the wife of the handsomest man on all thatfrontier. Now that the refusal came, and that in terms so decided as toput all cavilling out of the question; if not absolutely dumbfounded,he was so much mortified and surprised as to feel no wish to attempt tochange her resolution.
"The Glimmerglass has now no great call for me," he exclaimed aftera minute's silence. "Old Tom is gone, the Hurons are as plenty on theshore as pigeons in the woods, and altogether it is getting to be anonsuitable place."
"Then leave it. You see it is surrounded by dangers, and there is noreason why you should risk your life for others. Nor do I know thatyou can be of any service to us. Go, to-night; we'll never accuse you ofhaving done any thing forgetful, or unmanly."
"If I do go, 'twill be with a heavy heart on your account, Judith; Iwould rather take you with me."
"That is not to be spoken of any longer, March; but, I will land you inone of the canoes, as soon as it is dark and you can strike a trail forthe nearest garrison. When you reach the fort, if you send a party--"
Judith smothered the words, for she felt that it was humiliating to bethus exposing herself to the comments and reflections of one who was notdisposed to view her conduct in connection with all in those garrisons,with an eye of favor. Hurry, however, caught the idea, and withoutperverting it, as the girl dreaded, he answered to the purpose.
"I understand what you would say, and why you don't say it." he replied."If I get safe to the fort, a party shall start on the trail of thesevagabonds, and I'll come with it, myself, for I should like to see youand Hetty in a place of safety, before we part forever."
"Ah, Harry March, had you always spoken thus, felt thus, my feelingstowards you might have been different!"
"Is it too late, now, Judith? I'm rough and a woodsman, but we allchange under different treatment from what we have been used to."
"It is too late, March. I can never feel towards you, or any other manbut one, as you would wish to have me. There, I've said enough, surely,and you will question me no further. As soon as it is dark, I or theDelaware will put you on the shore. You will make the best of your wayto the Mohawk, and the nearest garrison, and send all you can to ourassistance. And, Hurry, we are now friends, and I may trust in you, mayI not?"
"Sartain, Judith; though our fri'ndship would have been all the warmer,could you look upon me as I look upon you."
Judith hesitated, and some powerful emotion was struggling within her.Then, as if determined to look down all weaknesses, and accomplish herpurposes at every hazard, she spoke more plainly.
"You will find a captain of the name of Warley at the nearest post," shesaid, pale as death, and even trembling as she spoke; "I think it likelyhe will wish to head the party, but I would greatly prefer it shouldbe another. If Captain Warley can be kept back, 't would make me veryhappy!"
"That's easier said than done, Judith, for these officers do pretty muchas they please. The Major will order, and captains, and lieutenants, andensigns must obey. I know the officer you mean, a red faced, gay, oh!be joyful sort of a gentleman, who swallows madeira enough to drown theMohawk, and yet a pleasant talker. All the gals in the valley admirehim, and they say he admires all the gals. I don't wonder he is yourdislike, Judith, for he's a very gin'ral lover, if he isn't a gin'ralofficer."
Judith did not answer, though her frame shook, and her colour changedfrom pale to crimson, and from crimson back again to the hue of death.
"Alas! my poor mother!" she ejaculated mentally instead of uttering italoud, "We are over thy grave, but little dost thou know how much thylessons have been forgotten; thy care neglected; thy love defeated!"
As this goading of the worm that never dies was felt, she arose andsignified to Hurry, that she had no more to communicate.