Delusion; or, The Witch of New England

by Eliza Buckminster Lee

  CHAPTER VI.

  Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom, where many branches meet; So grateful, when the noon of summer made The valleys sick with heat?

  Let in through all the trees, Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright: Their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze, Twinkles like beams of light.

  BRYANT.

  A few days after the evening before mentioned, Edith and her fatherprepared for their little journey, to visit the young student.

  It was a brilliant morning in the very last of October. All journeys, atthis time, were made on horseback: they were mounted, therefore, Mr.Grafton on a sedate old beast, that had served him many years, and Edithon the _petite fille_ of this venerable "ancestress,"--gentle, butscarcely out of its state of coltship.

  The Indians, at this time, were much feared, and the shortest excursionswere never undertaken without fire-arms. Paul, as well as Mr. Grafton,was well armed, and served them as a guard.

  As soon as they had left their own village, their course was only abridle-path through the forest; and the path was now so hidden with thefallen leaves, that it was sometimes indicated only by marks on thetrees. The trees were almost stripped of their foliage, and the brightautumn sun, shining through the bare trunks, sparkled on the dew of thefallen leaves. It was the last smile of autumn. The cold had alreadycommenced. No sound broke the intense stillness of the forest but thetrampling of their horses' feet as they crushed the dry, witheredfoliage.

  The sky was intensely blue, and without a cloud. The elasticity of theair excited the young spirits of Edith. She was gay, and, like a youngfawn, she fluttered around her father, sometimes galloping her roughlittle pony in front, and then returning, she would give a gentle cutwith her whip to her father's horse, who, with head down, and ploddingindifference, regarded it no more than he did a fly.

  Mr. Grafton, delighted with his daughter's playfulness, looked at herwith a quiet, tender smile: her gayety, to him, was like the play of herinfancy, and he delighted to think that she was yet young and happy.

  Edith had ridden forward, and they had lost sight of her, when she camegalloping back, pale as death, and hardly able to retain her seat fromterror.

  "Edith, my child," said her father, "what has happened?"

  She could only point with her finger to a thin column of blue smoke thatcurled above the trees. Mr. Grafton knew that it indicated the presenceof Indians, at this time the terror of all the inhabitants.

  "No doubt they are friendly, my dear child," said Mr. Grafton; and hesent Paul, who was armed, forward to reconnoitre.

  Paul soon returned, showing his white teeth from ear to ear.

  "The piccaninnies," he said.

  Mr. Grafton and Edith rode forward, and in a little hollow at the footof a rock, from which bubbled a clear spring, a young Indian woman, witha pappoose at her feet, was half reclining; another child, attached inits birch cradle to the pendent branch of an elm tree, was gently rockedby the wind. A fire was built against the rock, and venison suspendedbefore it to roast.

  It was a beautiful little domestic scene, and Mr. Grafton and Edithstopped to contemplate it. They soon learned that the husband of theIndian was in the forest; but he was friendly, and, after exchangingsmiles, Edith dismounted.

  She sat on the grass, caressing the young pappoose, and talked with themother in that untaught, mute language that young and kind hearts soeasily understand.

  This little adventure delayed them so long that it was past noon whenthey reached the secluded farmhouse we have described in the firstchapter of our little tale.

  The old man was sitting at the door, enjoying the kindly warmth of thedeclining sun. Seymore was not far off, at work in his laborer's frock.A vivid blush of surprise, and pleasure, and shame, covered his templesand noble brow, as he came forward to meet them.

  Edith, quick in her perceptions, understood his feelings, and turnedaside her head while he drew off his laborer's frock. This gave anappearance of embarrassment to her first greeting, and the vivid delightfaded in a moment from his brilliant countenance, and a melancholy shadepassed over it.

  They entered the house, and Edith endeavored to remove the pain she hadgiven, by more marked attention to Seymore; but simple and sincere,ignorant as she was of all arts of coquetry, it only increased thebashfulness of her manner.

  The family had already dined; but, after some delay, a repast wasprepared for the travellers; and, before they were ready to depart, thelong shadows of the opposite hills brought an early twilight over thelittle valley.

  Mr. Grafton looked at his daughter; he could not expose her to a darkride through the forest; and the pressing invitation of the good oldpeople, that they should stay the night, was accepted.

  After much pleasant talk with the enthusiastic young student, to whichEdith listened with deep interest, Mr. Grafton was tasked to his utmostpolemical and theological knowledge by the searching questions of theold Puritan. Like douce Davie Deans, he was stiff in his doctrines, andwould not allow a suspicion of wavering from the orthodox standard offaith. But Edith soon gave undeniable evidence that sleep was a muchbetter solacer of fatigue than theological discussions; and, after theevening worship had been scrupulously performed, a bed was prepared forMr. Grafton on the floor of the room where they sat, for he would notallow the old people to give up theirs to him.

  Seymore gayly resigned his poor garret to Edith, and slept, as he hadoften done before, in the hayloft. Slept? no; he lay awake all nightthinking how lovely Edith looked in her riding _Joseph_,[1] which fittedclosely to her beautiful shape, and a beaver hat tied under the chin, toconfine her hair in riding. She was the angel of his dreams. But why didshe turn aside when they met? and the poor student sighed.

  [Footnote 1: We have in vain endeavored to find the etymology of thisname. It might first have been of many colors, and named from the coatof the patriarch's favorite son.]

  Edith looked around the little garret with much interest, and somelittle awe. There were the favorite books, heaps of manuscripts, andevery familiar object that was so closely associated with Seymore.Nothing reveals so much of another's mind and habits, as to go into theapartment where they habitually live.

  The bed had been neatly made with snowy sheets, and some little ordergiven to the room. Edith opened the books, and read the marked passages;the manuscripts were all open, and with the curiosity of our motherEve, she read a few lines. She colored to the very temples as shecommitted this fault; but she found herself irresistibly led on bysympathy with a mind kindred to her own; and when she laid her head onthe pillow, tears of admiration and pity filled her eyes. She lay awake,forming plans for the student's advancement; and, before sleep weigheddown her eyelids, she had woven a fair romance, of which he was thehero.

  Ah, that youth could be mistress of the ring and the lamp! then wouldall the world be prosperous and happy. But wisdom and experience, thetrue genii, appear in the form of an _aged_ magician, who has forgottenthe beatings of that precious thing, the human heart.

  The next morning, when they were assembled at their frugal breakfast,Seymore said, "I fear you thought, from the frequent ink-spots on mylittle garret, that, like Luther, I had thrown my ink-bottle at thedevil whenever he appeared."

  "I hope," said Edith, "you have not thrown away all its contents; for Ihad some charming fancies last night, inspired, I believe, by that veryink-bottle."

  Seymore blushed; but he did not look displeased, and Edith wassatisfied.

  The next morning was clear and balmy, and, soon after breakfast, theymounted their horses for their return.

  There are few things more exhilarating than riding through woods on aclear autumnal morning; but Edith felt no longer the wild gayety of theprevious morning. With a thoughtful countenance, she rode silently byher father's side when the path would permit, or followed quietly whenit was too narrow.

  "You seem to have found food for thought in the student's garret, mydear," said
her father.

  Edith blushed slightly, but did not answer.

  They had accomplished about half their journey, when Mr. Graftonproposed turning off from the direct path to visit an old lady,--afriend of Edith's mother, an emigrant of a noble family from the mothercountry.

  Edith followed silently, wondering she had never heard her fathermention this friend of her mother before.

  They soon after emerged from the forest upon open fields, cleared andcultivated with unusual care. A beautiful brook ran winding in themidst, and the whole domain was enclosed in strong fences of stone.About midway was built a low, irregular, but very large farmhouse. Itconsisted of smaller buildings, connected by very strong palisades; andthe whole was enclosed, at some distance, by a fence built of strongtimbers. It was evidently a dwelling designed for defence againstIndians. They entered the enclosure by an iron gate, so highly wroughtand finished that it must have been imported from the mother country.

  Edith found herself in a large garden, that had once been cultivatedwith much care and expense. It had been filled with rose-bushes,honeysuckles, and choice English flowers; but all was now in a state ofneglect and decay. The walks were overrun with weeds, the arbors inruins, and the tendrils of the vines wandering at their own wanton will.It seemed as if neglect had aided the autumn frost to cover thisfavorite spot with the garb of mourning.

  There was no front entrance to this singular building; and the visitorsrode round to a low door at the back, partly concealed by a pent roof.After knocking several minutes, it was opened by a very old negro,dressed in a tarnished livery, with his woolly hair drawn out into aqueue, and powdered. He smiled a welcome, and, with much show ofrespect, led them through many dark passages to a low but verycomfortable room. The walls were hung with faded tapestry; and the lowceiling, crossed with heavy beams, would have made the apartment gloomy,but for two large windows that looked into the sunny garden. The sasheswere of small, lozenge panes of glass set in lead; while the brightautumn sun streamed through, and shone with cheerful light on the blackoak furniture, and showed every mote dancing in its beams.

  Edith looked around with surprise and delight. A lady not much past themeridian of life came forward to greet them. She was dressed in anolive-colored brocade, with a snowy lawn apron and neckerchief foldedacross her breast. The sleeve reached just below the elbow, and wasfinished with a ruffle, and black silk mitts met the ruffle at theelbow. A rich lace shaded her face, and a small black velvet hood wastied closely under the chin.

  The lady's manner was rather stately and formal, as she greeted Mr.Grafton with all the ceremony of the old school of politeness, andlooked at his daughter.

  "She is the image of her mother," said Lady C----.

  "She is a precious flower," answered Mr. Grafton, looking at Edith withpride and affection, as she stood, half respectful, half bashful, beforethe lady.

  "You have called her Mary, I hope,--her mother's name."

  "No," answered Mr. Grafton; "I have but _one_ Mary,"--and he lookedupwards.

  Edith pressed closer to her father. "Call me Edith, madam," she said,with a timid smile.

  Lady C---- smiled also, and was soon in earnest conversation with Mr.Grafton.

  Edith was engaged in examining a room so much more elegant than any shehad seen before. Her eyes were soon attracted by a full-length portraiton the opposite side of the apartment. It was a lady in the bloom ofyouth, dressed in the costume of the second Charles. It was evidently anexquisite work of art. To Edith, the somewhat startling exposure of thebust, which the fashion of the period demanded, was redeemed by thechaste and nunlike expression of the face. Tender blue eyes were castdown on a wounded dove that she cherished in her bosom; and the long,dark eyelash shaded a pale and pensive cheek.

  Edith was fascinated by this beautiful picture. Who was she? where didshe live? what was her fate? were questions hovering on her lips, whichshe dared not ask of the stately lady on the couch; but, as she stoodriveted before it, "O that I had such a friend!" passed through hermind; and, like inexperienced and enthusiastic youth, she thought howfondly she could have loved her, and, if it were necessary, havesacrificed her own life for hers.

  Lady C---- observed her fixed attention.

  "That is a portrait of the Lady Ursula," she said, "who built thishouse, and brought over from England the fruits and flowers of thegarden. Alas! they are now much wasted and destroyed."

  At this moment, the old negro appeared, to say that the dinner wasserved.

  They passed into another low room, in the centre of which was a longoaken dining-table, the upper end raised two steps higher than thelower, and the whole was fixed to the floor. At this time, the upper endonly was covered with a rich damask cloth, where the lady and her gueststook their seats; the other half of the table extending bare beneaththem.

  "In this chair, and at this table, the Lady Ursula was wont to dine withher maidens and serving-men," said Lady C----, as she took her seat in ahigh-backed, richly-carved chair of oak; "and I have retained thecustom, though my serving-men are much reduced;" and she glanced her eyeon the trembling old negro.

  Edith thought how dreary it must be to dine there in solitary state,with no one to speak to except the old negro, and she cast a pityinglook around the apartment.

  A beauffet was in one corner, well filled with massive plate, and thewalls were adorned with pictures in needle-work, framed in dark ebony.

  The picture opposite Edith was much faded and defaced, but it was meantto represent Abraham offering his son Isaac in sacrifice.

  "It was the work of the Lady Ursula's fingers," said Lady C----, "asevery thing else you see here was created by her."

  "Is she now living?" asked Edith, very innocently.

  "Alas! no, my dear; hers was a sad fate; but her story is too long forthe dining hour;" and as dinner was soon over, they returned to theother apartment.

  Edith longed for a ramble in the garden. When she returned, the horseswere at the door, and she took a reluctant leave, for she had not heardthe story of the Lady Ursula.

  As soon as they had turned their horses' heads outside the iron gate,Edith began her eager questions:

  "Who was that beautiful woman, the original of the portrait? Where didshe live? How did she die? What was her fate?" Her father smiled, andrelated the following particulars, which deserve another chapter.