CHAPTER XV.
"Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear, As one with treasure laden, hemmed with thieves, Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear, Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves." --_Venus and Adonis._
The hut, or huts of Chainbearer, had far more comfort in and aroundthem, than I was prepared to find. They were three in number, one havingbeen erected as a kitchen, and a place to contain the male slaves;another for the special accommodation of Ursula and the female black;and the third to receive men. The eating-room was attached to thekitchen; and all these buildings, which had now stood the entire year,were constructed of logs, and were covered with bark. They were roughlymade, as usual; but that appropriated to Dus was so much superior to theothers in its arrangements, internal and external, as at once to denotethe presence and the influence of woman. It may have some interest withthe reader briefly to describe the place.
Quite as a matter of course, a spring had been found, as the firstconsideration in "locating," as it is called by that portion of ourpeople who get upon their conversational stilts. The spring burst out ofthe side of a declivity, the land stretching away for more than a milefrom its foot, in an inclined plane that was densely covered with someof the noblest elms, beeches, maples, and black birches, I have everseen. This spot, the Chainbearer early assured me, was the most valuableof all the lands of Mooseridge. He had selected it because it wascentral, and particularly clear from underbrush; besides having nostagnant water near it. In other respects, it was like any other pointin that vast forest; being dark, shaded, and surrounded by themagnificence of a bountiful vegetation.
Here Chainbearer had erected his hut, a low, solid structure of pinelogs, that were picturesque in appearance, and not without their rudecomforts, in their several ways. These buildings were irregularlyplaced, though the spring was in their control. The kitchen andeating-room were nearest the water; at no great distance from these wasthe habitation of the men; while the smaller structure, which FrankMalbone laughingly termed the "harem," stood a little apart, on a slightspur of land, but within fifty yards of Andries's own lodgings. Boardshad been cut by hand, for the floors and doors of these huts, though nobuilding but the "harem" had any window that was glazed. This last hadtwo such windows, and Frank had even taken care to provide for hissister's dwelling rude but strong window shutters.
As for defences against an enemy, they were no longer thought of withinthe limits of New York. Block-houses, and otherwise fortified dwellings,had been necessary so long as the French possessed Canada; but after thecapture of that colony, few had deemed any such precautions called for,until the war of the revolution brought a savage foe once more among thefrontier settlements; frontier, as to civilization, if not as toterritory. With the termination of that war had ceased this, the latestdemand for provisions of that nature; and the Chainbearer had notthought of using any care to meet the emergencies of violence, in"making his pitch."
Nevertheless, each hut would have been a reasonably strong post, on anemergency; the logs being bullet-proof, and still remaining undecayedand compact. Palisades were not thought of now, nor was there anycovered means of communicating between one hut and another. In a word,whatever there might be in the way of security in these structures, wasthe result of the solidity of their material, and of the fashion ofbuilding that was then, and is still customary everywhere in the forest.As against wild beasts there was entire protection, and other enemieswere no longer dreaded. Around the huts there were no enclosures of anysort, nor any other cleared land, than a spot of about half an acre inextent, off of which had been cut the small pines that furnished thelogs of which they were built. A few vegetables had been put into theground at the most open point; but a fence being unnecessary, none hadbeen built. As for the huts, they stood completely shaded by the forest,the pines having been cut on an eminence a hundred yards distant. Thisspot, however, small as it was, brought enough of the commoner sort ofplants to furnish a frugal table.
Such was the spot that was then known in all that region by the name ofthe "Chainbearer's Huts." This name has been retained and the huts arestill standing, circumstances having rendered them memorable in mypersonal history, and caused me to direct their preservation, at leastas long as I shall live. As the place had been inhabited a considerabletime that spring and summer, it bore some of the other signs of thepresence of man; but on the whole, its character as a residence was thatof deep forest seclusion. In point of fact, it stood buried in thewoods, distant fully fifteen miles from the nearest known habitation,and in so much removed from the comfort, succor, and outwardcommunications of civilized life. These isolated abodes, however, are byno means uncommon in the State, even at the present hour; and it isprobable that some of them will be found during the whole of thiscentury. It is true, that the western, middle, southern, southwestern,northwestern and northeastern counties of New York, all of which werewild, or nearly so, at the time of which I am writing, are already wellsettled, or are fast filling up, but there is a high mountainous region,in middle-northern New York, which will remain virtually a wilderness, Ishould think, for quite a century, if not longer. I have travelledthrough this district of wilderness very lately, and have found itpicturesque and well suited for the sportsman, abounding in deer, fishand forest birds, but not so much suited to the commoner wants of man,as to bring it very soon into demand for the ordinary purposes of thehusbandman. If this quarter of the country do not fall into the hands oflawless squatters and plunderers of one sort and another, of which thereis always some danger in a country of so great extent, it will become avery pleasant resort of the sportsman, who is likely soon to lose hishaunts in the other quarters of the State.
Jaap had brought over some horses of mine from the 'Nest assumpter-beasts, and these being sent back for want of provender, thenegro himself remained at the "Huts" as a general assistant, and as asort of hunter. A Westchester negro is pretty certain to be a shot,especially if he happen to belong to the proprietor of a Neck; for thereis no jealousy of trusting arms in the hands of our New York slaves. ButJaap having served, in a manner, was entitled to burn as much gunpowderas he pleased. By means of one of his warlike exploits, the old fellowhad become possessed of a very capital fowling-piece, plunder obtainedfrom some slain English officer, I always supposed; and this arm heinvariably kept near his person, as a trophy of his own success. Theshooting of Westchester, however and that of the forest, were verydifferent branches of the same art. Jaap belonged to the school of theformer, in which the pointer and the setter were used. The game was "putup," and "marked down," and the bird was invariably shot on the wing. Myattention was early called to this distinction, by overhearing aconversation between the negro and the Indian, that took place within afew minutes after our arrival, and a portion of which I shall nowproceed to relate.
Jaap and Sureflint were, in point of fact, very old acquaintances, andfast friends. They had been actors in certain memorable scenes, on thosevery lands of Mooseridge, some time before my birth, and had often metand served as comrades during the last war. The known antipathy betweenthe races of the red and black man did not exist as between them, thoughthe negro regarded the Indian with some of that self-sufficiency whichthe domestic servant would be apt to entertain for a savage roamer ofthe forest; while the Onondago could not but look on my fellow as one ofthe freest of the free would naturally feel disposed to look on one whowas content to live in bondage. These feelings were rather mitigatedthan extinguished by their friendship, and often made themselvesmanifest in the course of their daily communion with each other.
A bag filled with squabs had been brought from the roost, and Jaap hademptied it of its contents on the ground near the kitchen, to commencethe necessary operations of picking and cleaning, preparatory to handingthe birds over to the cook. As for the Onondago, he took his seat nearby on a log very coolly, a spectator of his companion's labors, butdisdaining to enter in person on such woman's work, now
that he wasneither on a message nor on a war-path. Necessity alone could induce himto submit to any menial labor, nor do I believe he would have offered toassist, had he seen the fair hand of Dus herself plucking these pigeons.To him it would have been perfectly suitable that a "squaw" should dothe work of a "squaw," while a warrior maintained his dignifiedidleness. Systematic and intelligent industry are the attendants ofcivilization, the wants created by which can only be supplied by theunremitted care of those who live by their existence.
"Dere, old Sus," exclaimed the negro, shaking the last of the dead birdsfrom the bag--"dere, now, Injin; I s'pose you t'inks 'em ere's game!"
"What _you_ call him, eh?" demanded the Onondago, eyeing the negrosharply.
"I doesn't call 'em game a bit, redskin. Dem's not varmint, n'oder; butden, dem isn't game. Game's game, I s'pose you does know, Sus?"
"Game, game--good. T'at true--who say no?"
"Yes, it's easy enough to _say_ a t'ing, but it not so berry easy tounderstan'. Can any Injin in York State, now, tell me why pigeon isn'tgame?"
"Pigeon game--good game, too. Eat sweet--many time want more."
"Now, I do s'pose, Trackless"--Jaap loved to run through the wholevocabulary of the Onondago's names--"Now, I do s'pose, Trackless, yout'ink _tame_ pigeon just as good as wild?"
"Don't know--nebber eat tame--s'pose him good, too."
"Well, den, you s'poses berry wrong. Tame pigeons poor stuff; but nopigeon be game. Nuttin' game, Sureflint, dat a dog won't p'int, or set.Masser Mordaunt h'an't got no dog at de Bush or de Toe, and he keepsdogs enough at bot', dat would p'int a pigeon."
"P'int deer, eh?"
"Well, I doesn't know. P'raps he will, p'raps he won't. Dere isn't nodeer in Westchester for us to try de dogs on, so a body can't tell. Youremem'er 'e day, Sus, when we fit your redskins out here, 'long timeago, wit' Masser Corny and Masser Ten Eyck, and ole Masser HermanMordaunt, and Miss Anneke, and Miss Mary, an' your frin' Jumper? Youremem'er _dat_, ha! Onondago?"
"Sartain--no forget--Injin nebber forget. Don't forget friend--don'tforget enemy."
Here Jaap raised one of his shouting negro laughs, in which all thejoyousness of his nature seemed to enter with as much zest as if he weresubjected to a sort of mental tickling; then he let the character of hismerriment be seen by his answer.
"Sartain 'nough--you remem'er dat feller, Muss, Trackless? He get heselfin a muss by habbing too much mem'ry. Good to hab mem'ry when you toldto do work; but sometime mem'ry bad 'nough. Berry bad to hab so muchmem'ry dat he can't forget small floggin'."
"No true," answered the Onondago, a little sternly, though a _very_little; for, while he and Jaap disputed daily, they never quarrelled."No true, so. Flog bad for back."
"Well, dat because you redskin--a color' man don't mind him as much asdis squab. Get use to him in little while; den he nuttin' to speak of."
Sureflint made no answer, but he looked as if he pitied the ignorance,humility, and condition of his friend.
"What you t'ink of dis worl', Susquesus?" suddenly demanded the negro,tossing a squab that he had cleaned into a pail, and taking another."How you t'ink white man come?--how you t'ink red man come?--how yout'ink color' gentl'em come, eh?"
"Great Spirit say so--t'en all come. Fill Injin full of blood--t'at makehim red--fill nigger wit' ink--t'at make him black--pale-face pale'cause he live in sun, and color dry out."
Here Jaap laughed so loud that he drew all three of Chainbearer's blacksto the door, who joined in the fun out of pure sympathy, though theycould not have known its cause. Those blacks! They may be very miserableas slaves; but it is certain no other class in America laugh so often,or so easily, or one-half as heartily.
"Harkee, Injin," resumed Jaap, as soon as he had laughed as much as hewished to do at that particular moment--"Harkee, Injin--you t'ink 'arthround, or 'arth flat?"
"How do you mean--'arth up and down--no round--no flat."
"Dat not what I mean. Bot' up and down in one sens', but no up and downin 'noder. Masser Mordaunt, now, and Masser Corny too, bot' say 'arthround like an apple, and dat he'd stand one way in day-time, an' 'noderway in night-time. Now, what you t'ink of dat, Injin?"
The Trackless listened gravely, but he expressed neither assent ordissent. I knew he had a respect for both my father and myself; but itwas asking a great deal of him to credit that the world was round; nordid he understand how one could be turned over in the manner Jaappretended.
"S'pose it so," he remarked, after a pause of reflection--"S'pose it so,den man stand upside down? Man stand on foot; no stand on head."
"Worl' turn round, Injin; dat a reason why you stand on he head onetime; on he foot 'noder."
"Who tell t'at tradition, Jaap? Nebber heard him afore."
"Masser Corny tell me dat, long time ago; when I war' little boy. AskMasser Mordaunt one day, and he tell you a same story. Ebberybody say_dat_ but Masser Dirck Follock; and he say to me, one time, 'it true,Jaap, t'e book do say so--and your Masser Corny believe him; but I wantto _see_ t'e worl' turn round, afore I b'lieve it.' Dat what ColonelFollock say, Trackless; you know he berry honest."
"Good--honest man, colonel--brave warrior--true friend--b'lieve all hetell, when he _know_; but don't know ebberyt'ing. Gen'ral knowmore--major young, but know more."
Perhaps my modesty ought to cause me to hesitate about recording thatwhich the partiality of so good a friend as Susquesus might induce himto say; but it is my wish to be particular, and to relate all thatpassed on this occasion. Jaap could not object to the Indian'sproposition, for he had too much love and attachment for his two mastersnot to admit at once that they knew more than Colonel Follock; no veryextravagant assumption, by the way.
"Yes, he good 'nough," answered the black, "but he don't know half asmuch as Masser Corny, or Masser Mordaunt. He say worl' isn't round; now,I t'ink he look round."
"What Chainbearer say?" asked the Indian, suddenly, as if he haddetermined that his own opinion should be governed by that of a man whomhe so well loved. "Chainbearer nebber lie."
"Nor do Masser Corny, nor Masser Mordaunt?" exclaimed Jaap, a littleindignantly. "You t'ink, Trackless, e'der of _my_ massers lie!"
That was an accusation that Susquesus never intended to make; though hisgreater intimacy with, and greater reliance on old Andries had,naturally enough, induced him to ask the question he had put.
"No say eeder lie," answered the Onondago; "but many forked tongueabout, and maybe hear so, and t'ink so. Chainbearer stop ear; nebberlisten to crooked tongue."
"Well, here come Chainbearer he self, Sus; so, jist for graterfercashun,you shall hear what 'e ole man say. It berry true, Chainbearer honestman, and I like to know he opinion myself, sin' it isn't easy,Trackless, to understan' how a mortal being _can_ stan' up, head down!"
"What 'mortal being' mean, eh?"
"Why, it mean mortality, Injin--you, mortality--I, mortality--MasserCorny, mortality--Masser Mordaunt, mortality--Miss Anneke,mortality--ebberybody, mortality; but ebberybody not 'e same sort ofmortality!--Understan' now, Sus?"
The Indian shook his head, and looked perplexed; but the Chainbearercoming up at that moment, that branch of the matter in discussion waspursued no farther. After exchanging a few remarks about the pigeons,Jaap did not scruple to redeem the pledge he had given his red friend,by plunging at once into the main subject with the Chainbearer.
"You know how it be wid Injin, Masser Chainbearer," said Jaap--"'Ey isalways poor missedercated creatur's, and knows nuttin' but what come bychance--now here be Sureflint, he can no way t'ink dis worl' round; anddat it _turn_ round, too; and so he want me to ask what you got to sayabout _dat_ matter?"
Chainbearer was no scholar. Whatever may be said of Leyden, and of themany, very many learned Dutchmen it had sent forth into the world, fewof them ever reached America. Our brethren of the eastern colonies, nowstates, had long been remarkable, as a whole, for that "dangerousthing," a "little learning;" but I cannot say that the Dutch of NewYork, also viewed as a whole,
incurred any of those risks. To own thetruth, it was not a very easy matter to be more profoundly ignorant, onall things connected with science, than were the mass of the uneducatedDutch of New York, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundredand eighty-four. It made little difference as to condition in life,unless one rose as high as the old colonial aristocracy of that stock,and an occasional exception in favor of a family that intended to rear,or had reared in its bosom a minister of the gospel. Such was thestrength of the prejudice among these people, that they distrusted theEnglish schools, and few permitted their children to enter them; whilethose they possessed of their own were ordinarily of a very lowcharacter. These feelings were giving way before the influence of time,it is true; but it was very slowly; and it was pretty safe to infer thatevery man of low Dutch extraction in the colony was virtuallyuneducated, with the exception of here and there an individual of thehigher social castes, or one that had been especially favored byassociation and circumstances. As for that flippant knowledge, of whichour eastern neighbors possessed so large an amount, the New York Dutchappeared to view it with peculiar dislike, disdaining to know anything,if it were not of the very best quality. Still, there were a few to whomthis quality was by no means a stranger. In these isolated cases, theunwearied application, painstaking industry, cautious appreciation offacts, and solid judgment of the parties, had produced a few men whoonly required a theatre for its exhibition, in order to cause theirinformation to command the profound respect of the learned, let themlive where they might. What they did acquire was thoroughly got, thoughseldom paraded for the purposes of mere show.
Old Andries, however, was not of the class just named. He belonged tothe rule, and not to its exception. Beyond a question, he had heard allthe more familiar truths of science alluded to in discourse, or had seenthem in the pages of books; but they entered into no part of his realopinions; for he was not sufficiently familiar with the differentsubjects to feel their truths in a way to incorporate them with hismind.
"You know t'is sait, Jaap," Chainbearer answered, "t'at bot' are true.Eferypoty wilt tell you so; and all t'e folks I haf seen holt t'e sameopinions."
"T'ink him true, Chainbearer?" the Onondago somewhat abruptly demanded.
"I s'pose I _must_, Sureflint, since all say it. T'e pale-faces, youknow, reat a great many pooks, and get to pe much wiser t'an ret men."
"How you make man stand on head, eh?"
Chainbearer now looked over one shoulder, then over the other; andfancying no one was near but the two in his front, he was probably alittle more communicative than might otherwise have been the case.Drawing a little nearer, like one who is about to deal with a secret,the honest old man made his reply.
"To pe frank wit' you, Sureflint," he answered, "t'at ist a question noteasily answered. Eferypoty says 'tis so, ant, t'erefore, I s'pose it_must_ pe so; put I have often asked myself if t'is worlt pe trulyturned upsite town at night, how is it, old Chainpearer, t'at you ton'troll out of pet? T'ere's t'ings in natur' t'at are incomprehensiple,Trackless; quite incomprehensiple!"
The Indian listened gravely, and it seemed to satisfy his longings onthe subject, to know that there were things in nature that areincomprehensible. As for the Chainbearer, I thought that he changed thediscourse a little suddenly on account of these very incomprehensiblethings in nature; for it is certain he broke off on another theme, in away to alter all the ideas of his companions, let them be on their headsor their heels.
"Is it not true, Jaap, t'at you ant t'e Onondago, here, wast pot'present at t'e Injin massacre t'at took place in t'ese parts, pefore t'erevolution, in t'e olt French war? I mean t'e time when one Traverse, asurveyor, ant a fery _goot_ surveyor he was, was kil't, wit'all hischainpearers ant axe-men?"
"True as gospel, Masser Andries," returned the negro, looking upseriously, and shaking his head--"I was here, and so was Sus. Dat was defuss time we smell gunpowder togedder. De French Injins was out indroves, and dey cut off Masser Traverse and all his party, no leavinghalf a scalp on a single head. Yes, sah; I remembers _dat_, as if t'waslast night."
"Ant what was tone wit' t'e poties? You puriet t'e poties, surely?"
"Sartain--Pete, Masser Ten Eyck's man, was put into a hole, near MasserCorny's hut, which must be out here, four or five miles off; whilemasser surveyor and his men were buried by a spring, somewhere offyonder. Am I right, Injin?"
The Onondago shook his head; then he pointed to the true direction toeach spot that had been mentioned, showing that Jaap was very much outof the way. I had heard of certain adventures in which my father hadbeen concerned when a young man, and in which, indeed, my mother hadbeen in a degree an actor, but I did not know enough of the events fullyto comprehend the discourse which succeeded. It seemed that theChainbearer knew the occurrences by report only, not having been presentat the scenes connected with them; but he felt a strong desire to visitthe graves of the sufferers. As yet, he had not even visited the hut ofMr. Traverse, the surveyor who had been killed; for, the work on whichhe had been employed being one of detail, or that of subdividing thegreat lots laid down before the revolution, into smaller lots, forpresent sale, it had not taken him as yet from the central point whereit had commenced. His new assistant chainbearer was not expected to joinus for a day or two; and, after talking the matter over with his twocompanions for a few minutes, he announced a determination to go inquest of all the graves the succeeding morning, with the intention ofhaving suitable memorials of their existence placed over them.
The evening of that day was calm and delightful. As the sun was settingI paid Dus a visit, and found her alone in what she playfully called thedrawing-room of her "harem." Luckily there were no mutes to prevent myentrance, the usual black guardian, of whom there _was_ one, being stillin her kitchen at work. I was received without embarrassment, and takinga seat on the threshold of the door, I sat conversing, while themistress of the place plied her needle on a low chair within. For a timewe talked of the pigeons and of our little journey in the woods; afterwhich the conversation insensibly took a direction toward our presentsituation, the past, and the future. I had adverted to the Chainbearer'sresolution to search for the graves; and, at this point, I shall beginto record what was said, _as_ it was said.
"I have heard allusions to those melancholy events, rather than theirhistory," I added. "For some cause, neither of my parents like to speakof them; though I know not the reason."
"Their history is well known at Ravensnest," answered Dus; "and it isoften related there; at least, as marvels are usually related in countrysettlements. I suppose there is a grain of truth mixed up with a poundof error."
"I see no reason for misrepresenting in an affair of that sort."
"There is no other than the universal love of the marvellous, whichcauses most people to insist on having it introduced into a story, if itdo not happen to come in legitimately. Your true country gossip is neversatisfied with fact. He (or _she_ would be the better word) insists onexercising a dull imagination at invention. In this case, however, fromall that I can learn, more fact and less invention has been used thancommon."
We then spoke of the outlines of the story each had heard, and we foundthat, in the main, our tales agreed. In making the comparison, however,I found that I was disposed to dwell most on the horrible features ofthe incidents, while Dus, gently and almost insensibly, yet infallibly,inclined to those that were gentler, and which had more connection withthe affections.
"Your account is much as mine, and both must be true in the main, as yougot yours from the principal actors," she said; "but _our_ gossipsrelate certain points connected with love and marriage, about which youhave been silent."
"Let me hear them, then," I cried; "for I never was in a better mood toconverse of love and _marriage_," laying a strong emphasis on the lastword, "than at this moment!"
The girl started, blushed, compressed her lips, and continued silent forhalf a minute. I could see that her hand trembled, but she was too muchaccustomed to extraordina
ry situations easily to lose her self-command.It was nearly dusk, too, and the obscurity in which she sat within thehut, which was itself beneath the shade of tall trees, most probablyaided her efforts to seem unconscious. Yet, I had spoken warmly, and asI soon saw, in a manner that demanded explanation, though at the momentquite without plan, and scarcely with the consciousness of what I wasdoing. I decided not to retreat, but to go on, in doing which I shouldmerely obey an impulse that was getting to be too strong for muchfurther restraint; that was not the precise moment, nevertheless, inwhich I was resolved to speak, but I waited rather for the naturalcourse of things. In the mean time, after the short silence mentioned,the discourse continued.
"All I meant," resumed Dus, "was the tradition which is related amongyour tenants, that your parents were united in consequence of the mannerin which your father defended Herman Mordaunt's dwelling, his daughterincluded--though Herman Mordaunt himself preferred some English lord forhis son-in-law, and--but I ought to repeat no more of this silly tale."
"Let me hear it all, though it be the loves of my own parents."
"I dare say it is not true; for what vulgar report of private feelingsand private acts ever _is_ so? My tradition added that Miss Mordauntwas, at first, captivated by the brilliant qualities of the young lord,though she much preferred General Littlepage in the end; and that hermarriage has been most happy."
"Your tradition, then, has not done my mother justice, but is faulty inmany things. Your young lord was merely a baronet's heir; and I knowfrom my dear grandmother that my mother's attachment to my fathercommenced when she was a mere child, and was the consequence of hisresenting an insult she received at the time from some other boy."
"I am glad of that!" exclaimed Dus, with an emphasis so marked that Iwas surprised at the earnestness of her manner. "Second attachments inwoman to me always seem misplaced. There was another vein to mytradition, which tells of a lady who lost her betrothed the night the'Nest was assailed, and who has ever since lived unmarried, true to hismemory. That is a part of the story I have ever loved."
"Was her name Wallace?" I asked, eagerly.
"It was; Mary Wallace--and I have honored the name ever since I heardthe circumstances. In my eyes, Mr. Littlepage, there can be no picturemore respectable than that of a female remaining true to her firstattachments, under _all_ circumstances; in _death_ as well as in_life_."
"Or in mine, beloved Ursula!" I cried--but I will not make a fool ofmyself by attempting to record what I said next. The fact was, that Dushad been winding herself round my heart for the last few weeks in a waythat would have defied any attempts of mine to extricate it from the netinto which it had fallen, had I the wish to do so. But I had consideredthe matter, and saw no reason to desire freedom from the dominion ofUrsula Malbone. To me she appeared all that man could wish, and I saw noimpediment to a union in the circumstance of her poverty. Her family andeducation were quite equal to my own; and these very importantconsiderations admitted, I had fortune enough for both. It was materialthat we should have the habits, opinions, prejudices if you will, of thesame social caste; but beyond this, worldly considerations, in my viewof the matter, ought to have no influence.
Under such notions, therefore, and guided by the strong impulse of agenerous and manly passion, I poured out my whole soul to Dus. I daresay I spoke a quarter of an hour without once being interrupted. I didnot wish to hear my companion's voice; for I had the humility which issaid to be the inseparable attendant of a true love, and was fearfulthat the answer might not be such as I could wish to hear. I couldperceive, spite of the increasing obscurity, that Dus was stronglyagitated; and will confess a lively hope was created within me by thiscircumstance. Thus encouraged, it was natural to lose my fears in thewish to be more assured; and I now pressed for a reply. After a briefpause, I obtained it in the following words, which were uttered with atremor and sensibility that gave them tenfold weight.
"For this unexpected, and I believe _sincere_ declaration, Mr.Littlepage, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," the preciouscreature commenced. "There are a frankness, an honorable sincerity and anoble generosity in such a declaration, coming from _you_ to _me_, thatcan never be forgotten. But, I am not my own mistress--my faith isplighted to another--my affections are with my faith; and I cannotaccept offers which, so truly generous, so truly noble, demand the mostexplicit reply----"
I heard no more; for, springing from the floor, and an attitude that wasvery nearly that of being on my knees, I rushed from the hut and plungedinto the forest.