CHAPTER XVIII.
It is to be all made of sighs and tears; It is to be all made of faith and service; It is to be all made of phantasy; All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance; All humbleness, all patience, and impatience; All purity, all trial, all observance. SHAKESPEARE.
It was near noon when the gale broke; and then its force abated assuddenly as its violence had arisen. In less than two hours after thewind fell, the surface of the lake, though still agitated, was nolonger glittering with foam; and in double that time, the entire sheetpresented the ordinary scene of disturbed water, that was unbroken bythe violence of a tempest. Still the waves came rolling incessantlytowards the shore, and the lines of breakers remained, though the sprayhad ceased to fly; the combing of the swells was more moderate, and allthat there was of violence proceeded from the impulsion of wind whichhad abated.
As it was impossible to make head against the sea that was still up,with the light opposing air that blew from the eastward, all thoughtsof getting under way that afternoon were abandoned. Jasper, who had nowquietly resumed the command of the _Scud_, busied himself, however, inheaving-up the anchors, which were lifted in succession the kedgesthat backed them were weighed, and everything was got in readiness fora prompt departure, as soon as the state of the weather would allow.In the meantime, they who had no concern with these duties sought suchmeans of amusement as their peculiar circumstances allowed.
As is common with those who are unused to the confinement of a vessel,Mabel cast wistful eyes towards the shore; nor was it long before sheexpressed a wish that it were possible to land. The Pathfinder was nearher at the time, and he assured her that nothing would be easier, asthey had a bark canoe on deck, which was the best possible mode ofconveyance to go through a surf. After the usual doubts and misgivings,the Sergeant was appealed to; his opinion proved to be favorable, andpreparations to carry the whim into effect were immediately made.
The party which was to land consisted of Sergeant Dunham, his daughter,and the Pathfinder. Accustomed to the canoe, Mabel took her seat in thecentre with great steadiness, her father was placed in the bows, whilethe guide assumed the office of conductor, by steering in the stern.There was little need of impelling the canoe by means of the paddle, forthe rollers sent it forward at moments with a violence that set everyeffort to govern its movements at defiance. More than once, beforethe shore was reached, Mabel repented of her temerity, but Pathfinderencouraged her, and really manifested so much self-possession, coolness,and strength of arm himself, that even a female might have hesitatedabout owning all her apprehensions. Our heroine was no coward; and whileshe felt the novelty of her situation, in landing through a surf, shealso experienced a fair proportion of its wild delight. At moments,indeed, her heart was in her mouth, as the bubble of a boat floated onthe very crest of a foaming breaker, appearing to skim the water likea swallow, and then she flushed and laughed, as, left by the glancingelement, they appeared to linger behind as if ashamed of havingbeen outdone in the headlong race. A few minutes sufficed for thisexcitement; for though the distance between the cutter and the landconsiderably exceeded a quarter of a mile, the intermediate space waspassed in a very few minutes.
On landing, the Sergeant kissed his daughter kindly, for he was so muchof a soldier as always to feel more at home on _terra firma_ than whenafloat; and, taking his gun, he announced his intention to pass an hourin quest of game.
"Pathfinder will remain near you, girl, and no doubt he will tell yousome of the traditions of this part of the world, or some of his ownexperiences with the Mingos."
The guide laughed, promised to have a care of Mabel, and in a fewminutes the father had ascended a steep acclivity and disappeared in theforest. The others took another direction, which, after a few minutesof a sharp ascent also, brought them to a small naked point on thepromontory, where the eye overlooked an extensive and very peculiarpanorama. Here Mabel seated herself on a fragment of fallen rock torecover her breath and strength, while her companion, on whose sinewsno personal exertion seemed to make any impression, stood at her side,leaning in his own and not ungraceful manner on his long rifle. Severalminutes passed, and neither spoke; Mabel, in particular, being lost inadmiration of the view.
The position the two had obtained was sufficiently elevated to command awide reach of the lake, which stretched away towards the north-east in aboundless sheet, glittering beneath the rays of an afternoon's sun, andyet betraying the remains of that agitation which it had endured whiletossed by the late tempest. The land set bounds to its limits in a hugecrescent, disappearing in distance towards the south-east and the north.Far as the eye could reach, nothing but forest was visible, not evena solitary sign of civilization breaking in upon the uniform and grandmagnificence of nature. The gale had driven the _Scud_ beyond the lineof those forts with which the French were then endeavoring to girdthe English North American possessions; for, following the channels ofcommunication between the great lakes, their posts were on the banksof the Niagara, while our adventurers had reached a point many leagueswestward of that celebrated strait. The cutter rode at singleanchor, without the breakers, resembling some well-imagined andaccurately-executed toy, intended rather for a glass case than forstruggles with the elements which she had so lately gone through, whilethe canoe lay on the narrow beach, just out of reach of the waves thatcame booming upon the land, a speck upon the shingles.
"We are very far here from human habitations!" exclaimed Mabel, when,after a long survey of the scene, its principal peculiarities forcedthemselves on her active and ever brilliant imagination "this is indeedbeing on a frontier."
"Have they more sightly scenes than this nearer the sea and aroundtheir large towns?" demanded Pathfinder, with an interest he was apt todiscover in such a subject.
"I will not say that: there is more to remind one of his fellow-beingsthere than here; less, perhaps, to remind one of God."
"Ay, Mabel, that is what my own feelings say. I am but a poor hunter, Iknow, untaught and unlarned; but God is as near me, in this my home, ashe is near the king in his royal palace."
"Who can doubt it?" returned Mabel, looking from the view up into thehard-featured but honest face of her companion, though not withoutsurprise at the energy of his manner. "One feels nearer to God in sucha spot, I think, than when the mind is distracted by the objects of thetowns."
"You say all I wish to say myself, Mabel, but in so much plainer speech,that you make me ashamed of wishing to let others know what I feel onsuch matters. I have coasted this lake in search of skins afore the war,and have been here already; not at this very spot, for we landed yonder,where you may see the blasted oak that stands above the cluster ofhemlocks--"
"How, Pathfinder, can you remember all these trifles so accurately?"
"These are our streets and houses, our churches and palaces. Rememberthem, indeed! I once made an appointment with the Big Sarpent, to meetat twelve o'clock at noon, near the foot of a certain pine, at the endof six months, when neither of us was within three hundred miles ofthe spot. The tree stood, and stands still, unless the judgment ofProvidence has lighted on that too, in the midst of the forest, fiftymiles from any settlement, but in a most extraordinary neighborhood forbeaver."
"And did you meet at that very spot and hour?"
"Does the sun rise and set? When I reached the tree, I found the Sarpentleaning against its trunk with torn leggings and muddied moecassins. TheDelaware had got into a swamp, and it worried him not a little to findhis way out of it; but as the sun which comes over the eastern hillsin the morning goes down behind the western at night, so was he true totime and place. No fear of Chingachgook when there is either a friend oran enemy in the case. He is equally sartain with each."
"And where is the Delaware now? why is he not with us to-day?"
"He is scouting on the Mingo trail, where I ought to have been too, butfor a great human infirmity."
"You seem above, bey
ond, superior to all infirmity, Pathfinder; I neveryet met with a man who appeared to be so little liable to the weaknessesof nature."
"If you mean in the way of health and strength, Mabel, Providencehas been kind to me; though I fancy the open air, long hunts, activescoutings, forest fare, and the sleep of a good conscience, may alwayskeep the doctors at a distance. But I am human after all; yes, I findI'm very human in some of my feelings."
Mabel looked surprised, and it would be no more than delineating thecharacter of her sex, if we added that her sweet countenance expressed agood deal of curiosity, too, though her tongue was more discreet.
"There is something bewitching in this wild life of yours, Pathfinder,"she exclaimed, a tinge of enthusiasm mantling her cheeks. "I find I'mfast getting to be a frontier girl, and am coming to love all this grandsilence of the woods. The towns seem tame to me; and, as my father willprobably pass the remainder of his days here, where he has already livedso long, I begin to feel that I should be happy to continue with him,and not to return to the seashore."
"The woods are never silent, Mabel, to such as understand their meaning.Days at a time have I travelled them alone, without feeling the wantof company; and, as for conversation, for such as can comprehend theirlanguage, there is no want of rational and instructive discourse."
"I believe you are happier when alone, Pathfinder, than when minglingwith your fellow-creatures."
"I will not say that, I will not say exactly that. I have seen the timewhen I have thought that God was sufficient for me in the forest, andthat I have craved no more than His bounty and His care. But otherfeelings have got uppermost, and I suppose natur' will have its way. Allother creatur's mate, Mabel, and it was intended man should do so too."
"And have you never bethought you of seeking a wife, Pathfinder,to share your fortunes?" inquired the girl, with the directness andsimplicity that the pure of heart and the undesigning are the most aptto manifest, and with that feeling of affection which is inbred inher sex. "To me it seems you only want a home to return to from yourwanderings to render your life completely happy. Were I a man, it wouldbe my delight to roam through these forests at will, or to sail overthis beautiful lake."
"I understand you, Mabel; and God bless you for thinking of the welfareof men as humble as we are. We have our pleasures, it is true, as wellas our gifts, but we might be happier; yes, I do think we might behappier."
"Happier! in what way, Pathfinder? In this pure air, with these cool andshaded forests to wander through, this lovely lake to gaze at and sailupon, with clear consciences, and abundance for all their realwants, men ought to be nothing less than as perfectly happy as theirinfirmities will allow."
"Every creatur' has its gifts, Mabel, and men have theirs," answered theguide, looking stealthily at his beautiful companion, whose cheeks hadflushed and eyes brightened under the ardor of feelings excited by thenovelty of her striking situation "and all must obey them. Do you seeyonder pigeon that is just alightin' on the beach--here in a line withthe fallen chestnut?"
"Certainly; it is the only thing stirring with life in it, besidesourselves, that is to be seen in this vast solitude."
"Not so, Mabel, not so; Providence makes nothing that lives to livequite alone. Here is its mate, just rising on the wing; it has beenfeeding near the other beach, but it will not long be separated from itscompanion."
"I understand you, Pathfinder," returned Mabel, smiling sweetly, thoughas calmly as if the discourse was with her father. "But a hunter mayfind a mate, even in this wild region. The Indian girls are affectionateand true, I know; for such was the wife of Arrowhead, to a husband whooftener frowned than smiled."
"That would never do, Mabel, and good would never come of it. Kind mustcling to kind, and country to country, if one would find happiness.If, indeed, I could meet with one like you, who would consent to be ahunter's wife, and who would not scorn my ignorance and rudeness, then,indeed, would all the toil of the past appear like the sporting of theyoung deer, and all the future like sunshine."
"One like me! A girl of my years and indiscretion would hardly make afit companion for the boldest scout and surest hunter on the lines."
"Ah, Mabel! I fear me that I have been improving a red-skin's gifts witha pale-face's natur'? Such a character would insure a wife in an Indianvillage."
"Surely, surely, Pathfinder, you would not think of choosing one soignorant, so frivolous, so vain, and so inexperienced as I for yourwife?" Mabel would have added, "and as young;" but an instinctivefeeling of delicacy repressed the words.
"And why not, Mabel? If you are ignorant of frontier usages, you knowmore than all of us of pleasant anecdotes and town customs: as forfrivolous, I know not what it means; but if it signifies beauty, ah'sme! I fear it is no fault in my eyes. Vain you are not, as is seen bythe kind manner in which you listen to all my idle tales about scoutingsand trails; and as for experience, that will come with years. Besides,Mabel, I fear men think little of these matters when they are about totake wives: I do."
"Pathfinder, your words,--your looks:--surely all this is meant intrifling; you speak in pleasantry?"
"To me it is always agreeable to be near you, Mabel; and I should sleepsounder this blessed night than I have done for a week past, could Ithink that you find such discourse as pleasant as I do."
We shall not say that Mabel Dunham had not believed herself a favoritewith the guide. This her quick feminine sagacity had early discovered;and perhaps she had occasionally thought there had mingled with hisregard and friendship some of that manly tenderness which the ruder sexmust be coarse, indeed, not to show on occasions to the gentler; but theidea that he seriously sought her for his wife had never before crossedthe mind of the spirited and ingenuous girl. Now, however, a gleam ofsomething like the truth broke in upon her imagination, less inducedby the words of her companion, perhaps, than by his manner. Lookingearnestly into the rugged, honest countenance of the scout, Mabel's ownfeatures became concerned and grave; and when she spoke again, itwas with a gentleness of manner that attracted him to her even morepowerfully than the words themselves were calculated to repel.
"You and I should understand each other, Pathfinder," said she with anearnest sincerity; "nor should there be any cloud between us. You aretoo upright and frank to meet with anything but sincerity and franknessin return. Surely, surely, all this means nothing,--has no otherconnection with your feelings than such a friendship as one of yourwisdom and character would naturally feel for a girl like me?"
"I believe it's all nat'ral, Mabel, yes; I do: the Sergeant tells mehe had such feelings towards your own mother, and I think I've seensomething like it in the young people I have from time to time guidedthrough the wilderness. Yes, yes, I daresay it's all nat'ral enough, andthat makes it come so easy, and is a great comfort to me."
"Pathfinder, your words make me uneasy. Speak plainer, or change thesubject for ever. You do not, cannot mean that--you cannot wish me tounderstand"--even the tongue of the spirited Mabel faltered, and sheshrank, with maiden shame, from adding what she wished so earnestly tosay. Rallying her courage, however, and determined to know all assoon and as plainly as possible, after a moment's hesitation, shecontinued,--"I mean, Pathfinder, that you do not wish me to understandthat you seriously think of me as a wife?"
"I do, Mabel; that's it, that's just it; and you have put the matterin a much better point of view than I with my forest gifts and frontierways would ever be able to do. The Sergeant and I have concluded onthe matter, if it is agreeable to you, as he thinks is likely to be thecase; though I doubt my own power to please one who deserves the besthusband America can produce."
Mabel's countenance changed from uneasiness to surprise; and then, by atransition still quicker, from surprise to pain.
"My father!" she exclaimed,--"my dear father has thought of my becomingyour wife, Pathfinder?"
"Yes, he has, Mabel, he has, indeed. He has even thought such a thingmight be agreeable to you, and has almost encouraged me to fan
cy itmight be true."
"But you yourself,--you certainly can care nothing whether this singularexpectation shall ever be realized or not?"
"Anan?"
"I mean, Pathfinder, that you have talked of this match more to obligemy father than anything else; that your feelings are no way concerned,let my answer be what it may?"
The scout looked earnestly into the beautiful face of Mabel, which hadflushed with the ardor and novelty of her sensations, and it was notpossible to mistake the intense admiration that betrayed itself in everylineament of his ingenuous countenance.
"I have often thought myself happy, Mabel, when ranging the woods on asuccessful hunt, breathing the pure air of the hills, and filled withvigor and health; but I now know that it has all been idleness andvanity compared with the delight it would give me to know that youthought better of me than you think of most others."
"Better of you!--I do, indeed, think better of you, Pathfinder, than ofmost others: I am not certain that I do not think better of you than ofany other; for your truth, honesty, simplicity, justice, and courage arescarcely equalled by any of earth."
"Ah, Mabel, these are sweet and encouraging words from you! and theSergeant, after all, was not so near wrong as I feared."
"Nay, Pathfinder, in the name of all that is sacred and just, do not letus misunderstand each other in a matter of so much importance. While Iesteem, respect, nay, reverence you, almost as much as I reverencemy own dear father, it is impossible that I should ever become yourwife--that I--"
The change in her companion's countenance was so sudden and so great,that the moment the effect of what she had uttered became visible in theface of the Pathfinder, Mabel arrested her own words, notwithstandingher strong desire to be explicit, the reluctance with which she couldat any time cause pain being sufficient of itself to induce the pause.Neither spoke for some time, the shade of disappointment that crossedthe rugged lineaments of the hunter amounting so nearly to anguish as tofrighten his companion, while the sensation of choking became so strongin the Pathfinder that he fairly griped his throat, like one who soughtphysical relief for physical suffering. The convulsive manner in whichhis fingers worked actually struck the alarmed girl with a feeling ofawe.
"Nay, Pathfinder," Mabel eagerly added, the instant she could commandher voice,--"I may have said more than I mean; for all things of thisnature are possible, and women, they say, are never sure of their ownminds. What I wish you to understand is, that it is not likely that youand I should ever think of each other as man and wife ought to think ofeach other."
"I do not--I shall never think in that way again, Mabel," gasped forththe Pathfinder, who appeared to utter his words like one just raisedabove the pressure of some suffocating substance. "No, no, I shall neverthink of you, or any one else, again in that way."
"Pathfinder, dear Pathfinder, understand me; do not attach more meaningto my words than I do myself: a match like that would be unwise,unnatural, perhaps."
"Yes, unnat'ral--ag'in natur'; and so I told the Sergeant, but he_would_ have it otherwise."
"Pathfinder! oh, this is worse than I could have imagined! Take my hand,excellent Pathfinder, and let me see that you do not hate me. For God'ssake, smile upon me again."
"Hate you, Mabel! Smile upon you! Ah's me!"
"Nay, give me your hand; your hardy, true, and manly hand--both, both,Pathfinder! for I shall not be easy until I feel certain that we arefriends again, and that all this has been a mistake."
"Mabel!" said the guide, looking wistfully into the face of the generousand impetuous girl, as she held his two hard and sunburnt hands in herown pretty and delicate fingers, and laughing in his own silent andpeculiar manner, while anguish gleamed over lineaments whichseemed incapable of deception, even while agitated with emotions soconflicting,--"Mabel! the Sergeant was wrong."
The pent-up feelings could endure no more, and the tears rolled down thecheeks of the scout like rain. His fingers again worked convulsively athis throat; and his breast heaved, as if it possessed a tenant of whichit would be rid, by any effort, however desperate.
"Pathfinder! Pathfinder!" Mabel almost shrieked; "anything but this,anything but this! Speak to me, Pathfinder! Smile again, say one kindword, anything to prove you can forgive me."
"The Sergeant was wrong!" exclaimed the guide, laughing amid his agony,in a way to terrify his companion by the unnatural mixture of anguishand light-heartedness. "I knew it, I knew it, and said it; yes, theSergeant was wrong after all."
"We can be friends, though we cannot be man and wife," continued Mabel,almost as much disturbed as her companion, scarcely knowing what shesaid; "we can always be friends, and always will."
"I thought the Sergeant was mistaken," resumed the Pathfinder, when agreat effort had enabled him to command himself, "for I did not think mygifts were such as would please the fancy of a town-bred girl. It wouldhave been better, Mabel, had he not over-persuaded me into a differentnotion and it might have been better, too, had you not been so pleasantand confiding like; yes, it would."
"If I thought any error of mine had raised false expectations in you,Pathfinder, however unintentionally on my part, I should never forgivemyself; for, believe me, I would rather endure pain in my own feelingsthan you should suffer."
"That's just it, Mabel, that's just it. These speeches and opinions,spoken in so soft a voice, and in a way I'm so unused to in the woods,have done the mischief. But I now see plainly, and begin to understandthe difference between us better, and will strive to keep down thought,and to go abroad again as I used to do, looking for the game and theinimy. Ah's me, Mabel! I have indeed been on a false trail since wemet."
"In a little while you will forget all this, and think of me as afriend, who owes you her life."
"This may be the way in the towns, but I doubt if it's nat'ral to thewoods. With us, when the eye sees a lovely sight, it is apt to keep itlong in view, or when the mind takes in an upright and proper feeling,it is loath to part with it."
"You will forget it all, when you come seriously to recollect that I amaltogether unsuited to be your wife."
"So I told the Sergeant; but he would have it otherwise. I knew youwas too young and beautiful for one of middle age, like myself, and whonever was comely to look at even in youth; and then your ways have notbeen my ways; nor would a hunter's cabin be a fitting place for one whowas edicated among chiefs, as it were. If I were younger and comelierthough, like Jasper Eau-douce--"
"Never mind Jasper Eau-douce," interrupted Mabel impatiently; "we cantalk of something else."
"Jasper is a worthy lad, Mabel; ay, and a comely," returned theguileless guide, looking earnestly at the girl, as if he distrusted herjudgment in speaking slightingly of his friend. "Were I only half ascomely as Jasper Western, my misgivings in this affair would not havebeen so great, and they might not have been so true."
"We will not talk of Jasper Western," repeated Mabel, the color mountingto her temples; "he may be good enough in a gale, or on the lake, but heis not good enough to talk of here."
"I fear me, Mabel, he is better than the man who is likely to be yourhusband, though the Sergeant says that never can take place. But theSergeant was wrong once, and he may be wrong twice."
"And who is likely to be my husband, Pathfinder! This is scarcely lessstrange than what has just passed between us."
"I know it is nat'ral for like to seek like, and for them that haveconsorted much with officers' ladies to wish to be officers' ladiesthemselves. But, Mabel; I may speak plainly to you, I know; and I hopemy words will not give you pain; for, now I understand what it is tobe disappointed in such feelings, I wouldn't wish to cause even aMingo sorrow on this head. But happiness is not always to be found in amarquee, any more than in a tent; and though the officers' quarters maylook more tempting than the rest of the barracks, there is often greatmisery between husband and wife inside of their doors."
"I do not doubt it in the least, Pathfinder; and, did it rest with me todecide, I woul
d sooner follow you to some cabin in the woods, and shareyour fortune, whether it might be better or worse, than go inside thedoor of any officer I know, with an intention of remaining there as itsmaster's wife."
"Mabel, this is not what Lundie hopes, or Lundie thinks."
"And what care I for Lundie? He is major of the 55th, and may commandhis men to wheel and march about as he pleases; but he cannot compel meto wed the greatest or the meanest of his mess. Besides, what can youknow of Lundie's wishes on such a subject?"
"From Lundie's own mouth. The Sergeant had told him that he wishedme for a son-in-law; and the Major, being an old and a true friend,conversed with me on the subject. He put it to me plainly, whether itwould not be more ginerous in me to let an officer succeed, than tostrive to make you share a hunter's fortune. I owned the truth, I did;and that was, that I thought it might; but when he told me that theQuartermaster would be his choice, I would not abide by the conditions.No, no, Mabel; I know Davy Muir well, and though he may make you a lady,he can never make you a happy woman, or himself a gentleman."
"My father has been very wrong if he has said or done aught to cause yousorrow, Pathfinder; and so great is my respect for you, so sincere myfriendship, that were it not for one--I mean that no person need fearLieutenant Muir's influence with me--I would rather remain as I am to mydying day than become a lady at the cost of being his wife."
"I do not think you would say that which you do not feel, Mabel,"returned Pathfinder earnestly.
"Not at such a moment, on such a subject, and least of all to you. No;Lieutenant Muir may find wives where he can--my name shall never be onhis catalogue."
"Thank you, thank you for that, Mabel, for, though there is no longerany hope for me, I could never be happy were you to take to theQuartermaster. I feared the commission might count for something, Idid; and I know the man. It is not jealousy that makes me speak inthis manner, but truth, for I know the man. Now, were you to fancy adesarving youth, one like Jasper Western, for instance--"
"Why always mention Jasper Eau-douce, Pathfinder? he can have no concernwith our friendship; let us talk of yourself, and of the manner in whichyou intend to pass the winter."
"Ah's me!--I'm little worth at the best, Mabel, unless it may be on atrail or with the rifle; and less worth now that I have discovered theSergeant's mistake. There is no need, therefore, of talking of me. Ithas been very pleasant to me to be near you so long, and even to fancythat the Sergeant was right; but that is all over now. I shall go downthe lake with Jasper, and then there will be business to occupy us, andthat will keep useless thoughts out of the mind."
"And you will forget this--forget me--no, not forget me, either,Pathfinder; but you will resume your old pursuits, and cease to think agirl of sufficient importance to disturb your peace?"
"I never knowed it afore, Mabel; but girls are of more account in thislife than I could have believed. Now, afore I knowed you, the new-bornbabe did not sleep more sweetly than I used; my head was no sooner onthe root, or the stone, or mayhap on the skin, than all was lost to thesenses, unless it might be to go over in the night the business ofthe day in a dream like; and there I lay till the moment came to bestirring, and the swallows were not more certain to be on the wing withthe light, than I to be afoot at the moment I wished to be. All thisseemed a gift, and might be calculated on even in the midst of a Mingocamp; for I've been outlying in my time, in the very villages of thevagabonds."
"And all this will return to you, Pathfinder, for one so upright andsincere will never waste his happiness on a mere fancy. You will dreamagain of your hunts, of the deer you have slain, and of the beaver youhave taken."
"Ah's me, Mabel, I wish never to dream again! Before we met, I had asort of pleasure in following up the hounds, in fancy, as it mightbe; and even in striking a trail of the Iroquois--nay, I've been inskrimmages and ambushments, in thought like, and found satisfaction init, according to my gifts; but all those things have lost their charmssince I've made acquaintance with you. Now, I think no longer ofanything rude in my dreams; but the very last night we stayed in thegarrison I imagined I had a cabin in a grove of sugar maples, and atthe root of every tree was a Mabel Dunham, while the birds among thebranches sang ballads instead of the notes that natur' gave, and eventhe deer stopped to listen. I tried to shoot a fa'n, but Killdeer missedfire, and the creatur' laughed in my face, as pleasantly as a young girllaughs in her merriment, and then it bounded away, looking back as ifexpecting me to follow."
"No more of this, Pathfinder; we'll talk no more of these things," saidMabel, dashing the tears from her eyes: for the simple, earnest mannerin which this hardy woodsman betrayed the deep hold she had taken of hisfeelings nearly proved too much for her own generous heart. "Now, letus look for my father; he cannot be distant, as I heard his gun quitenear."
"The Sergeant was wrong--yes, he was wrong, and it's of no avail toattempt to make the dove consort with the wolf."
"Here comes my dear father," interrupted Mabel. "Let us look cheerfuland happy, Pathfinder, as such good friends ought to look, and keep eachother's secrets."
A pause succeeded; the Sergeant's foot was heard crushing the driedtwigs hard by, and then his form appeared shoving aside the bushes ofa copse just near. As he issued into the open ground, the old soldierscrutinized his daughter and her companion, and speaking good-naturedly,he said, "Mabel, child, you are young and light of foot--look for a birdthat I've shot that fell just beyond the thicket of young hemlocks onthe shore; and, as Jasper is showing signs of an intention of gettingunder way, you need not take the trouble to clamber up this hill again,but we will meet you on the beach in a few minutes."
Mabel obeyed, bounding down the hill with the elastic step of youth andhealth. But, notwithstanding the lightness of her steps, the heart ofthe girl was heavy, and no sooner was she hid from observation by thethicket, than she threw herself on the root of a tree and wept as if herheart would break. The Sergeant watched her until she disappeared, witha father's pride, and then turned to his companion with a smile as kindand as familiar as his habits would allow him to use towards any.
"She has her mother's lightness and activity, my friend, with somewhatof her father's force," said he. "Her mother was not quite so handsome,I think myself; but the Dunhams were always thought comely, whether menor women. Well, Pathfinder, I take it for granted you've not overlookedthe opportunity, but have spoken plainly to the girl? women likefrankness in matters of this sort."
"I believe Mabel and I understand each other at last, Sergeant,"returned the other, looking another way to avoid the soldier's face.
"So much the better. Some people fancy that a little doubt anduncertainty makes love all the livelier; but I am one of those who thinkthe plainer the tongue speaks the easier the mind will comprehend. WasMabel surprised?"
"I fear she was, Sergeant; I fear she was taken quite by surprise--yes,I do."
"Well, well, surprises in love are like an ambush in war, and quite aslawful; though it is not so easy to tell when a woman is surprised, asto tell when it happens to an enemy. Mabel did not run away, my worthyfriend, did she?"
"No, Sergeant, Mabel did not try to escape; _that_ I can say with aclear conscience."
"I hope the girl was too willing, neither! Her mother was shy and coyfor a month, at least; but frankness, after all, is a recommendation ina man or woman."
"That it is, that it is; and judgment, too."
"You are not to look for too much judgment in a young creature oftwenty, Pathfinder, but it will come with experience. A mistake in youor me, for instance, might not be so easily overlooked; but in a girlof Mabel's years, one is not to strain at a gnat lest they swallow acamel."
The reader will remember that Sergeant Dunham was not a Hebrew scholar.
The muscles of the listener's face twitched as the Sergeant was thusdelivering his sentiments, though the former had now recovered a portionof that stoicism which formed so large a part of his character, andwhich he had probably imbibed f
rom long association with the Indians.His eyes rose and fell, and once a gleam shot athwart his hard featuresas if he were about to indulge in his peculiar laugh; but the joyousfeeling, if it really existed, was as quickly lost in a look allied toanguish. It was this unusual mixture of wild and keen mental agony withnative, simple joyousness, which had most struck Mabel, who, in theinterview just related, had a dozen times been on the point of believingthat her suitor's heart was only lightly touched, as images ofhappiness and humor gleamed over a mind that was almost infantile inits simplicity and nature; an impression, however, which was soon drivenaway by the discovery of emotions so painful and so deep, that theyseemed to harrow the very soul.
"You say true, Sergeant," Pathfinder answered; "a mistake in one likeyou is a more serious matter."
"You will find Mabel sincere and honest in the end; give her but alittle time."
"Ah's me, Sergeant!"
"A man of your merits would make an impression on a rock, give him time,Pathfinder."
"Sergeant Dunham, we are old fellow-campaigners--that is, as campaignsare carried on here in the wilderness; and we have done so many kindacts to each other that we can afford to be candid--what has caused youto believe that a girl like Mabel could ever fancy one so rude as I am?"
"What?--why, a variety of reasons, and good reasons too, my friend.Those same acts of kindness, perhaps, and the campaigns you mentionmoreover, you are my sworn and tried comrade."
"All this sounds well, so far as you and I are consarned; but they donot touch the case of your pretty daughter. She may think these verycampaigns have destroyed the little comeliness I may once have had; andI am not quite sartain that being an old friend of her father would leadany young maiden's mind into a particular affection for a suitor. Likeloves like, I tell you, Sergeant; and my gifts are not altogether thegifts of Mabel Dunham."
"These are some of your old modest qualms, Pathfinder, and will do youno credit with the girl. Women distrust men who distrust themselves,and take to men who distrust nothing. Modesty is a capital thing in arecruit, I grant you; or in a young subaltern who has just joined, forit prevents his railing at the non-commissioned officers before he knowswhat to rail at; I'm not sure it is out of place in a commissary or aparson, but it's the devil and all when it gets possession of a realsoldier or a lover. Have as little to do with it as possible, if youwould win a woman's heart. As for your doctrine that like loves like,it is as wrong as possible in matters of this sort. If like lovedlike, women would love one another, and men also. No, no, like lovesdislike,"--the Sergeant was merely a scholar of the camp,--"and you havenothing to fear from Mabel on that score. Look at Lieutenant Muir;the man has had five wives already, they tell me, and there is no moremodesty in him than there is in a cat-o'-nine-tails."
"Lieutenant Muir will never be the husband of Mabel Dunham, let himruffle his feathers as much as he may."
"That is a sensible remark of yours, Pathfinder; for my mind is made upthat you shall be my son-in-law. If I were an officer myself, Mr. Muirmight have some chance; but time has placed one door between my childand myself, and I don't intend there shall be that of a marquee also."
"Sergeant, we must let Mabel follow her own fancy; she is young andlight of heart, and God forbid that any wish of mine should lay theweight of a feather on a mind that is all gaiety now, or take one noteof happiness from her laughter!"
"Have you conversed freely with the girl?" the Sergeant demandedquickly, and with some asperity of manner.
Pathfinder was too honest to deny a truth plain as that which the answerrequired, and yet too honorable to betray Mabel, and expose her to theresentment of one whom he well knew to be stern in his anger.
"We have laid open our minds," he said; "and though Mabel's is one thatany man might love to look at, I find little there, Sergeant, to make methink any better of myself."
"The girl has not dared to refuse you--to refuse her father's bestfriend?"
Pathfinder turned his face away to conceal the look of anguish thatconsciousness told him was passing athwart it, but he continued thediscourse in his own quiet, manly tones.
"Mabel is too kind to refuse anything, or to utter harsh words to a dog.I have not put the question in a way to be downright refused, Sergeant."
"And did you expect my daughter to jump into your arms before you askedher? She would not have been her mother's child had she done any suchthing, nor do I think she would have been mine. The Dunhams like plaindealing as well as the king's majesty; but they are no jumpers. Leaveme to manage this matter for you, Pathfinder, and there shall be nounnecessary delay. I'll speak to Mabel myself this very evening, usingyour name as principal in the affair."
"I'd rather not, I'd rather not, Sergeant. Leave the matter to Mabeland me, and I think all will come right in the ind. Young girls are liketimorsome birds; they do not over-relish being hurried or spoken harshlyto nither. Leave the matter to Mabel and me."
"On one condition I will, my friend; and that is, that you will promiseme, on the honor of a scout, that you will put the matter plainly toMabel the first suitable opportunity, and no mincing of words."
"I will ask her, Sergeant, on condition that you promise not to meddlein the affair--yes, I will promise to ask Mabel whether she will marryme, even though she laugh in my face at my doing so, on that condition."
Sergeant Dunham gave the desired promise very cheerfully; for he hadcompletely wrought himself up into the belief that the man he so muchesteemed himself must be acceptable to his daughter. He had marrieda woman much younger than himself, and he saw no unfitness in therespective years of the intended couple. Mabel was educated so muchabove him, too, that he was not aware of the difference which actuallyexisted between the parent and child in this respect. It followedthat Sergeant Dunham was not altogether qualified to appreciate hisdaughter's tastes, or to form a very probable conjecture what would bethe direction taken by those feelings which oftener depend on impulsesand passion than on reason. Still, the worthy soldier was not so wrongin his estimate of the Pathfinder's chances as might at first appear.Knowing all the sterling qualities of the man, his truth, integrityof purpose, courage, self-devotion, disinterestedness, it was far fromunreasonable to suppose that qualities like these would produce a deepimpression on any female heart; and the father erred principally infancying that the daughter might know as it might be by intuition whathe himself had acquired by years of intercourse and adventure.
As Pathfinder and his military friend descended the hill to the shore ofthe lake, the discourse did not flag. The latter continued to persuadethe former that his diffidence alone prevented complete success withMabel, and that he had only to persevere in order to prevail. Pathfinderwas much too modest by nature, and had been too plainly, though sodelicately, discouraged in the recent interview to believe all he heard;still the father used so many arguments which seemed plausible, and itwas so grateful to fancy that the daughter might yet be his, that thereader is not to be surprised when he is told that this unsophisticatedbeing did not view Mabel's recent conduct in precisely the light inwhich he may be inclined to view it himself. He did not credit all thatthe Sergeant told him, it is true; but he began to think virgin coynessand ignorance of her own feelings might have induced Mabel to use thelanguage she had.
"The Quartermaster is no favorite," said Pathfinder in answer to one ofhis companion's remarks. "Mabel will never look on him as more than onewho has had four or five wives already."
"Which is more than his share. A man may marry twice without offence togood morals and decency, I allow! but four times is an aggravation."
"I should think even marrying once what Master Cap calls acircumstance," put in Pathfinder, laughing in his quiet way, for by thistime his spirits had recovered some of their buoyancy.
"It is, indeed, my friend, and a most solemn circumstance too. If itwere not that Mabel is to be your wife, I would advise you to remainsingle. But here is the girl herself, and discretion is the word."
"Ah's m
e, Sergeant, I fear you are mistaken!"
The Pathfinder; Or, The Inland Sea Page 18
