Chapter XXII.
"That point in misery, which makes the oppressed man regardless of his own life, makes him too Lord of the oppressor's."
Coleridge, Remorse, V.i.201-04.
All this time Hetty had remained seated in the head of the scow, lookingsorrowfully into the water which held the body of her mother, as wellas that of the man whom she had been taught to consider her father.Hist stood near her in gentle quiet, but had no consolation to offer inwords. The habits of her people taught her reserve in this respect, andthe habits of her sex induced her to wait patiently for a moment whenshe might manifest some soothing sympathy by means of acts, rather thanof speech. Chingachgook held himself a little aloof, in grave reserve,looking like a warrior, but feeling like a man.
Judith joined her sister with an air of dignity and solemnity it was nother practice to show, and, though the gleamings of anguish were stillvisible on her beautiful face, when she spoke it was firmly and withouttremor. At that instant Hist and the Delaware withdrew, moving towardsHurry, in the other end of the boat.
"Sister," said Judith kindly, "I have much to say to you; we will getinto this canoe, and paddle off to a distance from the Ark--The secretsof two orphans ought not to be heard by every ear."
"Certainly, Judith, by the ears of their parents? Let Hurry lift thegrapnel and move away with the Ark, and leave us here, near the gravesof father and mother, to say what we may have to say."
"Father!" repeated Judith slowly, the blood for the first time since herparting with March mounting to her cheeks--"He was no father of ours,Hetty! That we had from his own mouth, and in his dying moments."
"Are you glad, Judith, to find you had no father! He took care of us,and fed us, and clothed us, and loved us; a father could have done nomore. I don't understand why he wasn't a father."
"Never mind, dear child, but let us do as you have said. It may be wellto remain here, and let the Ark move a little away. Do you prepare thecanoe, and I will tell Hurry and the Indians our wishes."
This was soon and simply done, the Ark moving with measured strokes ofthe sweeps a hundred yards from the spot, leaving the girls floating,seemingly in air, above the place of the dead; so buoyant was thelight vessel that held them, and so limpid the element by which it wassustained.
"The death of Thomas Hutter," Judith commenced, after a short pause hadprepared her sister to receive her communications, "has altered all ourprospects, Hetty. If he was not our father, we are sisters, and mustfeel alike and live together."
"How do I know, Judith, that you wouldn't be as glad to find I am notyour sister, as you are in finding that Thomas Hutter, as you call him,was not your father. I am only half witted, and few people like tohave half witted relations; and then I'm not handsome--at least, not ashandsome as you--and you may wish a handsomer sister."
"No, no Hetty. You and you only are my sister--my heart, and my love foryou tell me that--and mother was my mother--of that too am I glad, andproud; for she was a mother to be proud of--but father was not father!"
"Hush, Judith! His spirit may be near; it would grieve it to hear hischildren talking so, and that, too, over his very grave. Children shouldnever grieve parents, mother often told me, and especially when they aredead!"
"Poor Hetty! They are happily removed beyond all cares on our account.Nothing that I can do or say will cause mother any sorrow now--there issome consolation in that, at least! And nothing you can say or do willmake her smile, as she used to smile on your good conduct when living."
"You don't know that, Judith. Spirits can see, and mother may see aswell as any spirit. She always told us that God saw all we did, and thatwe should do nothing to offend him; and now she has left us, I strive todo nothing that can displease her. Think how her spirit would mourn andfeel sorrow, Judith, did it see either of us doing what is not right;and spirits may see, after all; especially the spirits of parents thatfeel anxious about their children."
"Hetty--Hetty--you know not what you say!" murmured Judith, almost lividwith emotion--"The dead cannot see, and know nothing of what passeshere! But, we will not talk of this any longer. The bodies of Motherand Thomas Hutter lie together in the lake, and we will hope that thespirits of both are with God. That we, the children of one of them,remain on earth is certain; it is now proper to know what we are to doin future."
"If we are not Thomas Hutter's children, Judith, no one will dispute ourright to his property. We have the castle and the Ark, and the canoes,and the woods, and the lakes, the same as when he was living, and whatcan prevent us from staying here, and passing our lives just as we everhave done?"
"No, no poor sister--this can no longer be. Two girls would not be safehere, even should these Hurons fail in getting us into their power.Even father had as much as he could sometimes do, to keep peace upon thelake, and we should fail altogether. We must quit this spot, Hetty, andremove into the settlements."
"I am sorry you think so, Judith," returned Hetty, dropping her head onher bosom, and looking thoughtfully down at the spot where the funeralpile of her mother could just be seen. "I am very sorry to hear it. Iwould rather stay here, where, if I wasn't born, I've passed my life.I don't like the settlements--they are full of wickedness and heartburnings, while God dwells unoffended in these hills! I love the trees,and the mountains, and the lake, and the springs; all that his bountyhas given us, and it would grieve me sorely, Judith, to be forced toquit them. You are handsome, and not at all half-witted, and one day youwill marry, and then you will have a husband, and I a brother to takecare of us, if women can't really take care of themselves in such aplace as this."
"Ah! if this could be so, Hetty, then, indeed, I could now be a thousandtimes happier in these woods, than in the settlements. Once I did notfeel thus, but now I do. Yet where is the man to turn this beautifulplace into such a garden of Eden for us?"
"Harry March loves you, sister," returned poor Hetty, unconsciouslypicking the bark off the canoe as she spoke. "He would be glad to beyour husband, I'm sure, and a stouter and a braver youth is not to bemet with the whole country round."
"Harry March and I understand each other, and no more need be said abouthim. There is one--but no matter. It is all in the hands of providence,and we must shortly come to some conclusion about our future manner ofliving. Remain here--that is, remain here, alone, we cannot--and perhapsno occasion will ever offer for remaining in the manner you think of. Itis time, too, Hetty, we should learn all we can concerning our relationsand family. It is not probable we are altogether without relations, andthey may be glad to see us. The old chest is now our property, and wehave a right to look into it, and learn all we can by what it holds.Mother was so very different from Thomas Hutter, that, now I know we arenot his children, I burn with a desire to know whose children we can be.There are papers in that chest, I am certain, and those papers may tellus all about our parents and natural friends."
"Well, Judith, you know best, for you are cleverer than common, motheralways said, and I am only half-witted. Now father and mother are dead,I don't much care for any relation but you, and don't think I could lovethem I never saw, as well as I ought. If you don't like to marry Hurry,I don't see who you can choose for a husband, and then I fear we shallhave to quit the lake, after all."
"What do you think of Deerslayer, Hetty?" asked Judith, bendingforward like her unsophisticated sister, and endeavoring to conceal herembarrassment in a similar manner. "Would he not make a brother-in-lawto your liking?"
"Deerslayer!" repeated the other, looking up in unfeigned surprise."Why, Judith, Deerslayer isn't in the least comely, and is altogetherunfit for one like you!"
"He is not ill-looking, Hetty, and beauty in a man is not of muchmatter."
"Do you think so, Judith? I know that beauty is of no great matter, inman or woman, in the eyes of God, for mother has often told me so, whenshe thought I might have been sorry I was not as handsome as you, thoughshe needn't have been uneasy on that account, for I never coveted anything
that is yours, sister--but, tell me so she did--still, beauty isvery pleasant to the eye, in both! I think, if I were a man, I shouldpine more for good looks than I do as a girl. A handsome man is a morepleasing sight than a handsome woman."
"Poor child! You scarce know what you say, or what you mean! Beauty inour sex is something, but in men, it passes for little. To be sure,a man ought to be tall, but others are tall, as well as Hurry; andactive--and I think I know those that are more active--and strong; well,he hasn't all the strength in the world--and brave--I am certain I canname a youth who is braver!"
"This is strange, Judith!--I didn't think the earth held a handsomer, ora stronger, or a more active or a braver man than Hurry Harry! I'm sureI never met his equal in either of these things."
"Well, well, Hetty--say no more of this. I dislike to hear you talkingin this manner. 'Tis not suitable to your innocence, and truth, andwarm-hearted sincerity. Let Harry March go. He quits us to-night, and noregret of mine will follow him, unless it be that he has staid so long,and to so little purpose."
"Ah! Judith; that is what I've long feared--and I did so hope he mightbe my brother-in-law!"
"Never mind it now. Let us talk of our poor mother--and of ThomasHutter."
"Speak kindly then, sister, for you can't be quite certain that spiritsdon't both hear and see. If father wasn't father, he was good to us,and gave us food and shelter. We can't put any stones over their graves,here in the water, to tell people all this, and so we ought to say itwith our tongues."
"They will care little for that, girl. 'Tis a great consolation to know,Hetty, that if mother ever did commit any heavy fault when young, shelived sincerely to repent of it; no doubt her sins were forgiven her."
"Tisn't right, Judith, for children to talk of their parents' sins. Wehad better talk of our own."
"Talk of your sins, Hetty!--If there ever was a creature on earthwithout sin, it is you! I wish I could say, or think the same of myself;but we shall see. No one knows what changes affection for a good husbandcan make in a woman's heart. I don't think, child, I have even now thesame love for finery I once had."
"It would be a pity, Judith, if you did think of clothes, over yourparents' graves! We will never quit this spot, if you say so, and willlet Hurry go where he pleases."
"I am willing enough to consent to the last, but cannot answer for thefirst, Hetty. We must live, in future, as becomes respectable youngwomen, and cannot remain here, to be the talk and jest of all the rudeand foul tongu'd trappers and hunters that may come upon the lake. LetHurry go by himself, and then I'll find the means to see Deerslayer,when the future shall be soon settled. Come, girl, the sun has set,and the Ark is drifting away from us; let us paddle up to the scow, andconsult with our friends. This night I shall look into the chest, andto-morrow shall determine what we are to do. As for the Hurons, now wecan use our stores without fear of Thomas Hutter, they will be easilybought off. Let me get Deerslayer once out of their hands, and a singlehour shall bring things to an understanding."
Judith spoke with decision, and she spoke with authority, a habit shehad long practised towards her feeble-minded sister. But, while thusaccustomed to have her way, by the aid of manner and a readier commandof words, Hetty occasionally checked her impetuous feelings and hastyacts by the aid of those simple moral truths that were so deeplyengrafted in all her own thoughts and feelings; shining through bothwith a mild and beautiful lustre that threw a sort of holy halo aroundso much of what she both said and did. On the present occasion, thishealthful ascendancy of the girl of weak intellect, over her of acapacity that, in other situations, might have become brilliant andadmired, was exhibited in the usual simple and earnest manner.
"You forget, Judith, what has brought us here," she said reproachfully."This is mother's grave, and we have just laid the body of father by herside. We have done wrong to talk so much of ourselves at such a spot,and ought now to pray God to forgive us, and ask him to teach us wherewe are to go, and what we are to do."
Judith involuntarily laid aside her paddle, while Hetty dropped on herknees, and was soon lost in her devout but simple petitions. Her sisterdid not pray. This she had long ceased to do directly, though anguish ofspirit frequently wrung from her mental and hasty appeals to the greatsource of benevolence, for support, if not for a change of spirit.Still she never beheld Hetty on her knees, that a feeling of tenderrecollection, as well as of profound regret at the deadness of her ownheart, did not come over her. Thus had she herself done in childhood,and even down to the hour of her ill fated visits to the garrisons, andshe would willingly have given worlds, at such moments, to be able toexchange her present sensations for the confiding faith, those pureaspirations, and the gentle hope that shone through every lineamentand movement of her otherwise, less favored sister. All she could do,however, was to drop her head to her bosom, and assume in her attitudesome of that devotion in which her stubborn spirit refused to unite.When Hetty rose from her knees, her countenance had a glow and serenitythat rendered a face that was always agreeable, positively handsome.Her mind was at peace, and her conscience acquitted her of a neglect ofduty.
"Now, you may go if you want to, Judith," she said, "for God has beenkind to me, and lifted a burden off my heart. Mother had many suchburdens, she used to tell me, and she always took them off in thisway. 'Tis the only way, sister, such things can be done. You may raisea stone, or a log, with your hands; but the heart must be lightened byprayer. I don't think you pray as often as you used to do, when younger,Judith!"
"Never mind--never mind, child," answered the other huskily, "'tis nomatter, now. Mother is gone, and Thomas Hutter is gone, and the time hascome when we must think and act for ourselves."
As the canoe moved slowly away from the place, under the gentleimpulsion of the elder sister's paddle, the younger sat musing, as washer wont whenever her mind was perplexed by any idea more abstract anddifficult of comprehension than common.
"I don't know what you mean by 'future', Judith," she at length,suddenly observed. "Mother used to call Heaven the future, but you seemto think it means next week, or to-morrow!"
"It means both, dear sister--every thing that is yet to come, whether inthis world or another. It is a solemn word, Hetty, and most so, I fear,to them that think the least about it. Mother's future is eternity; oursmay yet mean what will happen while we live in this world--Is not that acanoe just passing behind the castle--here, more in the direction ofthe point, I mean; it is hid, now; but certainly I saw a canoe stealingbehind the logs!"
"I've seen it some time," Hetty quietly answered, for the Indians hadfew terrors for her, "but I didn't think it right to talk about suchthings over mother's grave! The canoe came from the camp, Judith,and was paddled by a single man. He seemed to be Deerslayer, and noIroquois."
"Deerslayer!" returned the other, with much of her nativeimpetuosity--"That cannot be! Deerslayer is a prisoner, and I havebeen thinking of the means of setting him free. Why did you fancy itDeerslayer, child?"
"You can look for yourself, sister, for there comes the canoe in sight,again, on this side of the hut."
Sure enough, the light boat had passed the building, and was nowsteadily advancing towards the Ark; the persons on board of which werealready collecting in the head of the scow to receive their visitor. Asingle glance sufficed to assure Judith that her sister was right, andthat Deerslayer was alone in the canoe. His approach was so calm andleisurely, however, as to fill her with wonder, since a man who hadeffected his escape from enemies by either artifice or violence, wouldnot be apt to move with the steadiness and deliberation with which hispaddle swept the water. By this time the day was fairly departing, andobjects were already seen dimly under the shores. In the broad lake,however, the light still lingered, and around the immediate scene of thepresent incidents, which was less shaded than most of the sheet, beingin its broadest part, it cast a glow that bore some faint resemblance tothe warm tints of an Italian or Grecian sunset. The logs of the hut andArk had a sort of purp
le hue, blended with the growing obscurity, andthe bark of the hunter's boat was losing its distinctness in coloursricher, but more mellowed, than those it showed under a bright sun.As the two canoes approached each other--for Judith and her sister hadplied their paddles so as to intercept the unexpected visiter erehe reached the Ark--even Deerslayer's sun-burned countenance wore abrighter aspect than common, under the pleasing tints that seemed todance in the atmosphere. Judith fancied that delight at meeting her hadsome share in this unusual and agreeable expression. She was not awarethat her own beauty appeared to more advantage than common, from thesame natural cause, nor did she understand what it would have given herso much pleasure to know, that the young man actually thought her, asshe drew nearer, the loveliest creature of her sex his eyes had everdwelt on.
"Welcome--welcome, Deerslayer!" exclaimed the girl, as the canoesfloated at each other's side; "we have had a melancholy--a frightfulday--but your return is, at least, one misfortune the less! Have theHurons become more human, and let you go; or have you escaped from thewretches, by your own courage and skill?"
"Neither, Judith--neither one nor t'other. The Mingos are Mingos still,and will live and die Mingos; it is not likely their natur's will everundergo much improvement. Well! They've their gifts, and we've our'n,Judith, and it doesn't much become either to speak ill of what the Lordhas created; though, if the truth must be said, I find it a sore trialto think kindly or to talk kindly of them vagabonds. As for outwittingthem, that might have been done, and it was done, too, atween theSarpent, yonder, and me, when we were on the trail of Hist--" here thehunter stopped to laugh in his own silent fashion--"but it's no easymatter to sarcumvent the sarcumvented. Even the fa'ans get to know thetricks of the hunters afore a single season is over, and an Indian whoseeyes have once been opened by a sarcumvention never shuts them ag'inin precisely the same spot. I've known whites to do that, but never ared-skin. What they l'arn comes by practice, and not by books, andof all schoolmasters exper'ence gives lessons that are the longestremembered."
"All this is true, Deerslayer, but if you have not escaped from thesavages, how came you here?"
"That's a nat'ral question, and charmingly put. You are wonderfulhandsome this evening, Judith, or Wild Rose, as the Sarpent calls you,and I may as well say it, since I honestly think it! You may well callthem Mingos, savages too, for savage enough do they feel, and savageenough will they act, if you once give them an opportunity. They feeltheir loss here, in the late skrimmage, to their hearts' cores, and areready to revenge it on any creatur' of English blood that may fall intheir way. Nor, for that matter do I much think they would stand attaking their satisfaction out of a Dutch man."
"They have killed father; that ought to satisfy their wicked cravingsfor blood," observed Hetty reproachfully.
"I know it, gal--I know the whole story--partly from what I've seenfrom the shore, since they brought me up from the point, and partly fromtheir threats ag'in myself, and their other discourse. Well, life isunsartain at the best, and we all depend on the breath of our nostrilsfor it, from day to day. If you've lost a staunch fri'nd, as I makeno doubt you have, Providence will raise up new ones in his stead, andsince our acquaintance has begun in this oncommon manner, I shall takeit as a hint that it will be a part of my duty in futur', should theoccasion offer, to see you don't suffer for want of food in the wigwam.I can't bring the dead to life, but as to feeding the living, there'sfew on all this frontier can outdo me, though I say it in the wayof pity and consolation, like, and in no particular, in the way ofboasting."
"We understand you, Deerslayer," returned Judith, hastily, "and take allthat falls from your lips, as it is meant, in kindness and friendship.Would to Heaven all men had tongues as true, and hearts as honest!"
"In that respect men do differ, of a sartainty, Judith. I've known themthat wasn't to be trusted any farther than you can see them; and othersag'in whose messages, sent with a small piece of wampum, perhaps, mightjust as much be depended on, as if the whole business was finished aforeyour face. Yes, Judith, you never said truer word, than when you saidsome men might be depended on, and other some might not."
"You are an unaccountable being, Deerslayer," returned the girl, not alittle puzzled with the childish simplicity of character that the hunterso often betrayed--a simplicity so striking that it frequently appearedto place him nearly on a level with the fatuity of poor Hetty, thoughalways relieved by the beautiful moral truth that shone through all thatthis unfortunate girl both said and did--"You are a most unaccountableman, and I often do not know how to understand you. But never mind, justnow; you have forgotten to tell us by what means you are here."
"I!--Oh! That's not very onaccountable, if I am myself, Judith. I'm outon furlough."
"Furlough!--That word has a meaning among the soldiers that Iunderstand; but I cannot tell what it signifies when used by aprisoner."
"It means just the same. You're right enough; the soldiers do use it,and just in the same way as I use it. A furlough is when a man has leaveto quit a camp or a garrison for a sartain specified time; at the endof which he is to come back and shoulder his musket, or submit to historments, just as he may happen to be a soldier, or a captyve. Being thelast, I must take the chances of a prisoner."
"Have the Hurons suffered you to quit them in this manner, without watchor guard."
"Sartain--I woul'n't have come in any other manner, unless indeed it hadbeen by a bold rising, or a sarcumvention."
"What pledge have they that you will ever return?"
"My word," answered the hunter simply. "Yes, I own I gave 'em that, andbig fools would they have been to let me come without it! Why inthat case, I shouldn't have been obliged to go back and ondergo anydeviltries their fury may invent, but might have shouldered my rifle,and made the best of my way to the Delaware villages. But, Lord! Judith,they know'd this, just as well as you and I do, and would no more let mecome away, without a promise to go back, than they would let the wolvesdig up the bones of their fathers!"
"Is it possible you mean to do this act of extraordinaryself-destruction and recklessness?"
"Anan!"
"I ask if it can be possible that you expect to be able to put yourselfagain in the power of such ruthless enemies, by keeping your word."
Deerslayer looked at his fair questioner for a moment with sterndispleasure. Then the expression of his honest and guileless facesuddenly changed, lighting as by a quick illumination of thought, afterwhich he laughed in his ordinary manner.
"I didn't understand you, at first, Judith; no, I didn't! You believethat Chingachgook and Hurry Harry won't suffer it; but you don't knowmankind thoroughly yet, I see. The Delaware would be the last man on'arth to offer any objections to what he knows is a duty, and, as forMarch, he doesn't care enough about any creatur' but himself tospend many words on such a subject. If he did, 'twould make no greatdifference howsever; but not he, for he thinks more of his gains thanof even his own word. As for my promises, or your'n, Judith, or anybody else's, they give him no consarn. Don't be under any oneasiness,therefore, gal; I shall be allowed to go back according to the furlough;and if difficulties was made, I've not been brought up, and edicated asone may say, in the woods, without knowing how to look 'em down."
Judith made no answer for some little time. All her feelings as a woman,and as a woman who, for the first time in her life was beginning tosubmit to that sentiment which has so much influence on the happinessor misery of her sex, revolted at the cruel fate that she fanciedDeerslayer was drawing down upon himself, while the sense of right,which God has implanted in every human breast, told her to admire anintegrity as indomitable and as unpretending as that which the other sounconsciously displayed. Argument, she felt, would be useless, nor wasshe at that moment disposed to lessen the dignity and high principlethat were so striking in the intentions of the hunter, by any attempt toturn him from his purpose. That something might yet occur to supersedethe necessity for this self immolation she tried to hope, and then sheprocee
ded to ascertain the facts in order that her own conduct might beregulated by her knowledge of circumstances.
"When is your furlough out, Deerslayer," she asked, after both canoeswere heading towards the Ark, and moving, with scarcely a perceptibleeffort of the paddles, through the water.
"To-morrow noon; not a minute afore; and you may depend on it, Judith,I shan't quit what I call Christian company, to go and give myself upto them vagabonds, an instant sooner than is downright necessary. Theybegin to fear a visit from the garrisons, and wouldn't lengthen the timea moment, and it's pretty well understood atween us that, should I failin my ar'n'd, the torments are to take place when the sun begins tofall, that they may strike upon their home trail as soon as it is dark."
This was said solemnly, as if the thought of what was believed to bein reserve duly weighed on the prisoner's mind, and yet so simply, andwithout a parade of suffering, as rather to repel than to invite anyopen manifestations of sympathy.
"Are they bent on revenging their losses?" Judith asked faintly, her ownhigh spirit yielding to the influence of the other's quiet but dignifiedintegrity of purpose.
"Downright, if I can judge of Indian inclinations by the symptoms. Theythink howsever I don't suspect their designs, I do believe, but one thathas lived so long among men of red-skin gifts, is no more likely to bemisled in Injin feelin's, than a true hunter is like to lose his trail,or a stanch hound his scent. My own judgment is greatly ag'in my ownescape, for I see the women are a good deal enraged on behalf of Hist,though I say it, perhaps, that shouldn't say it, seein' that I had aconsiderable hand myself in getting the gal off. Then there was a cruelmurder in their camp last night, and that shot might just as well havebeen fired into my breast. Howsever, come what will, the Sarpent and hiswife will be safe, and that is some happiness in any case."
"Oh! Deerslayer, they will think better of this, since they have givenyou until to-morrow noon to make up your mind!"
"I judge not, Judith; yes, I judge not. An Injin is an Injin, gal, andit's pretty much hopeless to think of swarving him, when he's got thescent and follows it with his nose in the air. The Delawares, now, are ahalf Christianized tribe--not that I think such sort of Christians muchbetter than your whole blooded onbelievers--but, nevertheless, what goodhalf Christianizing can do to a man, some among 'em have got, and yetrevenge clings to their hearts like the wild creepers here to the tree!Then, I slew one of the best and boldest of their warriors, they say,and it is too much to expect that they should captivate the man who didthis deed, in the very same scouting on which it was performed, andthey take no account of the matter. Had a month, or so, gone by, theirfeelin's would have been softened down, and we might have met in a morefriendly way, but it is as it is. Judith, this is talking of nothing butmyself, and my own consarns, when you have had trouble enough, and maywant to consult a fri'nd a little about your own matters. Is the old manlaid in the water, where I should think his body would like to rest?"
"It is, Deerslayer," answered Judith, almost inaudibly. "That duty hasjust been performed. You are right in thinking that I wish to consult afriend; and that friend is yourself. Hurry Harry is about to leave us;when he is gone, and we have got a little over the feelings of thissolemn office, I hope you will give me an hour alone. Hetty and I are ata loss what to do."
"That's quite nat'ral, coming as things have, suddenly and fearfully.But here's the Ark, and we'll say more of this when there is a betteropportunity."
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