"I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are;--
But I have
That honorable grief lodged here, which burns
Worse than tears drown."
Winter's Tale.
If the pen of a compiler, like that we wield, possessed the mechanical
power of the stage, it would be easy to shift the scenes of this legend as
rapidly and effectively as is required for its right understanding, and
for the proper maintenance of its interest. That which cannot be done with
the magical aid of machinery, must be attempted by less ambitious, and we
fear by far less efficacious means.
At the same early hour of the day, and at no great distance from the spot
where Dudley announced his good fortune to his brother Ring, another
morning meeting had place, between persons of the same blood and
connexions. From the instant when the pale light, that precedes the day,
was first seen in the heavens, the windows and doors of the considerable
dwelling, on the opposite side of the valley, had been unbarred. Ere the
glow of the sun had gilded the sky over the outline of the eastern woods,
this example of industry and providence was followed by the inmates of
every house in the village, or on the surrounding hills; and, by the time
the golden globe itself was visible above the trees, there was not a human
being in all that settlement, of proper age and health, who was not
actively afoot.
It is unnecessary to say that the dwelling particularly named was the
present habitation of the household of Mark Heathcote. Though age had
sapped the foundations of his strength, and had nearly dried the channels
of his existence, the venerable religionist still lived. While his
physical perfection had been gradually giving way before the ordinary
decay of nature, the moral man was but little altered. It is even probable
that his visions of futurity were less dimmed by the mists of carnal
interests than when last seen, and that the spirit had gained some portion
of that energy which had certainly been abstracted from the more corporeal
parts of his existence. At the hour already named, the Puritan was seated
in the piazza, which stretched along the whole front of a dwelling, that,
however it might be deficient in architectural proportions, was not
wanting in the more substantial comforts of a spacious and commodious
frontier residence. In order to obtain a faithful portrait of a man so
intimately connected with our tale, the reader will fancy him one who had
numbered four-score and ten years, with a visage on which deep and
constant mental striving had wrought many and menacing furrows, a form
that trembled while it yet exhibited the ruins of powerful limb and
flexible muscle, and a countenance in which ascetic reflections had
engraved a severity, that was but faintly relieved by the gleamings of a
natural kindness, which no acquired habits, nor any traces of metaphysical
thought, could ever entirely erase. Across this picture of venerable and
self-mortifying age, the first rays of the sun were now softly cast,
lighting a dimmed eye and furrowed face with a look of brightness and
peace. Perhaps the blandness of the expression belonged as much to the
season and hour, as to the habitual character of the man. This benignancy
of feature, unusual rather in its strength than in its existence, might
have been heightened by the fact that his spirit had just wrought in
prayer, as was usual, in the circle of his children and dependants, ere
they left those retired parts of the building where they had found rest
and security during the night. Of the former, none known and cherished in
the domestic circle had been absent; and the ample provision that was
making for the morning meal, sufficiently showed that the number of the
latter had in no degree diminished since the reader was familiar with the
domestic economy of his household.
Time had produced no very striking alteration in the appearance of
Content. It is true that the brown hue of his features had deepened, and
that his frame was beginning to lose some of its elasticity and ease of
action, in the more measured movements of middle age. But the governed
temperament of the individual had always kept the animal in more than
usual subjection. Even his earlier days had rather exhibited the promise
than the performance of the ordinary youthful qualities. Mental gravity
had long before produced a corresponding physical effect. In reference to
his exterior, and using the language of the painter, it would now be said,
that, without having wrought any change in form and proportions, the
colors had been mellowed by time. If a few hairs of gray were sprinkled,
here and there, around his brow, it was as moss gathers on the stones of
the edifice, rather furnishing evidence of its increased adhesion and
approved stability, than denoting any symptoms of decay.
Not so with his gentle and devoted partner. That softness and sweetness of
air which had first touched the heart of Content was still to be seen,
though it existed amid the traces of a constant and a corroding grief. The
freshness of youth had departed, and in its place was visible the more
lasting, and, in her case, the more affecting beauty of expression. The
eye of Ruth had lost none of its gentleness, and her smile still continued
kind and attractive; but the former was often painfully vacant, seeming to
look inward upon those secret and withering sources of sorrow that were
deeply and almost mysteriously seated in her heart; while the latter
resembled the cold brightness of that planet, which illumines objects by
repelling the borrowed lustre from its own bosom. The matronly form, the
feminine beaming of the countenance, and the melodious voice, yet
remained; but the first had been shaken till it stood on the very verge of
a premature decay, the second had a mingling of anxious care in its most
sympathetic movements, and the last was seldom without that fearful thrill
which so deeply affects the senses, by conveying to the understanding a
meaning so foreign from the words. And yet an uninterested and ordinary
observer might not have seen, in the faded comeliness and blighted
maturity of the matron, more than the every-day signs that betray the turn
in the tide of human existence. As befitted such a subject, the coloring
of sorrow had been traced by a hand too delicate to leave the lines
visible to every vulgar eye. Like the master-touches of art, her grief, as
it was beyond the sympathies, so it lay beyond the ken of those whom
excellence may fail to excite, or in whom absence can deaden affections.
Still her feelings were true to all who had any claims on her love. The
predominance of wasting grief over the more genial springs of her
enjoyments, only went to prove how much greater is the influence of the
generous than the selfish qualities of our nature, in a heart that is
truly endowed with tenderness. It is scarce necessary to say, that this
gentle and constant woman sorrowed for her child.
Had Ruth Heathcote known that the girl ceased to live, it would not have
been difficult for one of her faith to have deposited her regrets by the
side of hopes that were so justifiable, in the grave of the innocent. But
the living death to which her offspring might be condemned, was rarely
absent from her thoughts. She listened to the maxims of resignation, which
were heard flowing from lips she loved with the fondness of a woman and
the meekness of a Christian; and then, even while the holy lessons were
still sounding in her attentive organs, the workings of an unconquerable
nature led her insidiously back to the sorrow of a mother.
The imagination of this devoted and feminine being had never possessed an
undue control over her reason. Her visions of happiness with the man whom
her judgment not less than her inclination approved, had been such as
experience and religion might justify. But she was now fated to learn
there is a fearful poetry in sorrow, which can sketch with a grace and an
imaginative power that no feebler efforts of a heated fancy may ever
equal. She heard the sweet breathing of her slumbering infant in the
whispering of the summer airs; its plaints came to her ears amid the
howlings of the gale; while the eager question and fond reply were mixed
up with the most ordinary intercourse of her own household. To her the
laugh of childish happiness that often came on the still air of evening
from the hamlet, sounded like the voice of mourning; and scarce an
infantile sport met her eye, that did not bring with it a pang of anguish.
Twice, since the events of the inroad, had she been a mother; and, as if
an eternal blight were doomed to destroy her hopes, the little creatures
to whom she had given birth, slept, side by side, near the base of the
ruined block. Thither she often went, but it was rather to be the victim
of those cruel images of her fancy, than as a mourner. Her visions of the
dead were calm and even consolatory, but if ever her thoughts mounted to
the abodes of eternal peace, and her feeble fancy essayed to embody the
forms of the blessed, her mental eye sought her who was not, rather than
those who were believed to be secure in their felicity. Wasting and
delusory as were these glimpses of the mind, there were others far more
harrowing, because they presented themselves with more of the coarse and
certain features of the world. It was the common, and perhaps it was the
better, opinion of the inhabitants of the valley, that death had early
sealed the fate of those who had fallen into the hands of the savages on
the occasion of the inroad. Such a result was in conformity with the known
practices and ruthless passions of the conquerors, who seldom spared life,
unless to render revenge more cruelly refined, or to bring consolation to
some bereaved mother of the tribe, by offering a substitute for the dead
in the person of a captive. There was relief, to picture the face of the
laughing cherub in the clouds, or to listen to its light footstep in the
empty halls of the dwelling; for in these illusive images of the brain,
suffering was confined to her own bosom. But when stern reality usurped
the place of fancy, and she saw her living daughter shivering in the
wintry blasts or sinking beneath the fierce heats of the climate,
cheerless in the desolation of female servitude, and suffering meekly the
lot of physical weakness beneath a savage master, she endured that anguish
which was gradually exhausting the springs of life.
Though the father was not altogether exempt from similar sorrow, it beset
him less ceaselessly. He knew how to struggle with the workings of his
mind, as best became a man. Though strongly impressed with the belief that
the captives had early been put beyond the reach of suffering, he had
neglected no duty, which tenderness to his sorrowing partner, parental
love, or Christian duty, could require at his hands.
The Indians had retired on the crust of the snow, and with the thaw every
foot-print, or sign, by which such wary foes might be traced, had
vanished. It remained matter of doubt to what tribe or even to what
nation, the marauders belonged. The peace of the colony had not yet been
openly broken, and the inroad had been rather a violent and fierce symptom
of the evils that were contemplated, than the actual commencement of the
ruthless hostilities which had since ravaged the frontier. But while
policy had kept the colonists quiet, private affection omitted no rational
means of effecting the restoration of the sufferers, in the event of their
having been spared.
Scouts had passed among the conspiring and but half-peaceable tribes,
nearest to the settlement, and rewards and menaces had both been liberally
used, in order to ascertain the character of the savages who had laid
waste the valley, as well as the more interesting fortunes of their
hapless victims. Every expedient to detect the truth had failed. The
Narragansetts affirmed that their constant enemies the Mohicans, acting
with their customary treachery, had plundered their English friends while
the Mohicans vehemently threw back the imputation on the Narragansetts. At
other times, some Indians affected to make dark allusions to the hostile
feelings of fierce warriors, who, under the name of the Five Nations, were
known to reside within the limits of the Dutch colony of New-Netherlands,
and to dwell upon the jealousy of the Pale-faces who spoke a language
different from that of the Yengeese. In short, inquiry had produced no
result; and Content, when he did permit his fancy to represent his
daughter as still living, was forced to admit to himself the probability
that she might be buried far in the ocean of wilderness which then covered
most of the surface of this continent.
Once, indeed, a rumor of an exciting nature had reached the family. An
itinerant trader, bound from the wilds of the interior to a mart on the
sea-shore, had entered the valley. He brought with him a report, that a
child, answering in some respects to the appearance which might now be
supposed to belong to her who was lost, was living among the savages, on
the banks of the smaller lakes of the adjoining colony. The distance to
this spot was great; the path led through a thousand dangers, and the
result was far from certain. Yet it quickened hopes which had long been
dormant. Ruth never urged any request that might involve serious hazard to
her husband, and for many months the latter had even ceased to speak on
the subject. Still, nature was working powerfully within him. His eyes, at
all times reflecting and calm, grew more thoughtful; deeper lines of care
gathered about his brow; and at length, melancholy took possession of a
countenance which was usually so placid.
It was at this precise period, that Eben Dudley chose to urge the suit, he
had always pressed after his own desultory fashion, on the decision of
Faith. One of those well-ordered accidents, which, from time to time, had
brought the girl and the young borderer in private conversation, enabled
him to effect his design with sufficient clearness. Faith heard him
without betraying any of her ordinary waywardness, and answered with as
little prevarication as the subject seemed to demand.
"This is well, Eben Dudley," she said, "and it is no more than an honest
girl hath a right to hear, from one who hath taken as many means as thou
to get into her favor. But he who would have his life tormented by me,
hath a solemn duty to do, ere I listen to his wishes."
"I have been in the lower towns and studied their manner of life, and I
have been upon the scouts of the colony, to keep the Indians in their
wigwams," returned her suitor, endeavoring to recount the feats of
manliness that might reasonably be expected of one inclined to venture on
so hazardous an experiment as matrimony. "The bargain with the young
Captain for the hill-lot, and for a village homestead, is drawing near a
close: and as the neighbors will not be backward at the stone-bee, or the
raising, I see nothing to--"
"Thou deceivest thyself, observant Dudley," interrupted the girl, "if thou
believest eye of thine can see that which is to be sought, ere one and the
same fortune shall be the property of thee and me. Hast noted, Eben, the
manner in which the cheek of the Madam hath paled, and how her eye is
getting sunken, since the time when the fur trader tarried with us, the
week of the storm?"
"I cannot say that there is much change in the wearing of the Madam,
within the bearing of my memory," answered Dudley, who was never
remarkable for minute observations of this nature, however keen he might
prove in subjects more intimately connected with his daily pursuits. "She
is not young and blooming as thou, Faith, nor is it often that we see--"
"I tell thee, man, that sorrow preyeth upon her form, and that she liveth
but in the memory of the lost infant!"
"This is carrying mourning beyond the bounds of reason. The child is at
peace; as is thy brother, Whittal, beyond all manner of question. That we
have not discovered their bones, is owing to the fire, which left but
little to tell of--"
"Thy head is a charnel-house, dull Dudley, but this picture of its
furniture shall not suffice for me. The man who is to be my husband must
have a feeling for a mother's sorrows!"
"What is now getting uppermost in thy mind, Faith! Is it for me to bring
back the dead to life, or to place a child that hath been lost so many
years once more in the arms of its parents?"
"It is.--Nay, open not thine eyes, as if light were first breaking into
the darkness of a clouded brain! I repeat, it is!"
"I am glad that we have got to these open declarations, for too much of my
life hath been already wasted in unsettled gallanting, when sound wisdom,
and the example of all around me, have shown that in order to become the
father of a family, and to be esteemed for a substantial settler, I should
have both cleared and wived some years ago. I wish to deal justly by all,
and having given thee reason to think that the day might come when we
should live together, as is fitting to people of our condition, I felt it
a duty to ask thee to share my chances; but now that thou dealest in
impossibilities, it is needful to seek elsewhere."
"This hath ever been thy way, when a good understanding hath been
established between us. Thy mind is ever getting into some discontent, and
then blame is heaped on one who rarely doth anything that should in reason
offend thee. What madness maketh thee dream that I ask impossibilities?
Surely, Dudley, thou canst not have noted the manner in which the nature
of the Madam is giving way before the consuming heat of her grief; thou
canst not look into the sorrow of woman, or thou wouldst have listened
with more kindness to a plan of travelling the woods for a short season,
in order that it might be known whether she of whom the trader spoke is
the lost one of our family, or the child of some stranger!"
Though Faith spoke with vexation, she also spoke with feeling. Her dark
eye swam in tears, and the color of her brown cheek deepened, until her
companion saw new reasons to forget his discontent in sympathies, which,
however obtuse they might be, were never entirely dormant.
"If a journey of a few hundred miles be all thou askest, girl, why speak
in parables?" he good-naturedly replied. "The kind word was not wanting to
put me on such a trial. We will be married on the Sabbath, and, please
Heaven, the Wednesday, or the Saturday at most, shall see me on the path
of the western trader."
"No delay. Thou must depart with the sun. The more active thou provest on
the journey the sooner wilt thou have the power to make me repent a
foolish deed."
But Faith had been persuaded to relax a little from this severity. They
were married on the Sabbath, and the following day Content and Dudley left
the valley, in quest of the distant tribe on which the scion of another
stock was said to have been so violently engrafted.
It is needless to dwell on the dangers and privations of such an
expedition. The Hudson, the Delaware, and the Susquehannah, rivers that
were then better known in tales than to the inhabitants of New-England,
were all crossed; and after a painful and hazardous journey, the
adventurers reached the first of that collection of small interior lakes,
whose banks are now so beautifully decorated with villages and farms.
Here, in the bosom of savage tribes, and exposed to every danger of field
and flood, supported only by his hopes, and by the presence of a stout
companion that hardships or danger could not easily subdue, the father
diligently sought his child.
At length a people were found, who held a captive that answered the
description of the trader. We shall not dwell on the feelings with which
Content approached the village that contained this little descendant of a
white race. He had not concealed his errand; and the sacred character, in
which he came, found pity and respect even among those barbarous tenants
of the wilderness. A deputation of the chiefs received him in the skirts
of their clearing. He was conducted to a wigwam, where a council-fire was
lighted, and an interpreter opened the subject, by placing the amount of
the ransom offered, and the professions of peace with which the strangers
came, in the fairest light before his auditors. It is not usual for the
American savage to loosen his hold easily, on one naturalized in his
tribe. But the meek air and noble confidence of Content touched the
latent qualities of those generous though fierce children of the woods.
The girl was sent for, that she might stand in the presence of the elders
of the nation.
No language can paint the sensation with which Content first looked upon
this adopted daughter of the savages. The years and sex were in accordance
with his wishes; but, in place of the golden hair and azure eyes of the
cherub he had lost, there appeared a girl in whose jet-black tresses and
equally dark organs of sight, he might better trace a descendant of the
French of the Canadas, than one sprung from his own Saxon lineage. The
father was not quick of mind in the ordinary occupations of life, but
nature was now big within him. There needed no second glance, to say how
cruelly his hopes had been deceived. A smothered groan struggled from his
chest, and then his self-command returned with the imposing grandeur of
Christian resignation. He arose, and, thanking the chiefs for their
indulgence, he made no secret of the mistake by which he had been led so
far on a fruitless errand. While speaking, the signs and gestures of
Dudley gave him reason to believe, that his companion had something of
importance to communicate. In a private interview, the latter suggested
the expediency of concealing the truth, and of rescuing the child they had
in fact discovered from the hands of her barbarous masters. It was now too
late to practise a deception that might have availed for this object, had
the stern principles of Content permitted the artifice. But, transferring
same portion of the interest which he felt for the fortunes of his own
offspring, to that of the unknown parent, who, like himself, most probably
mourned the uncertain fate of the girl before him, he tendered the ransom
intended for Ruth, in behalf of the captive. It was rejected. Disappointed
in both their objects, the adventurers were obliged to quit the village,
with weary feet and still heavier hearts.
If any who read these pages have ever felt the agony of suspense in a
matter involving the best of human affections, they will know how to
appreciate the sufferings of the mother, during the month that her
husband was absent on this holy errand. At times, hope brightened around
her heart, until the glow of pleasure was again mantling on her cheek and
playing in her eye. The first week of the adventure was one almost of
happiness. The hazards of the journey were nearly forgotten in its
anticipated results, and though occasional apprehensions quickened the
pulses of one whose system answered so fearfully to the movements of the
spirit, there was a predominance of hope in all her anticipations. She
again passed among her maidens with a mien in which joy was struggling
with the meekness of subdued habits, and her smiles once more began to
beam with renovated happiness. To his dying day, old Mark Heathcote never
forgot the sudden sensation that was created by the soft laugh that on
some unexpected occasion came to his ear from the lips of his son's wife.
Though years had elapsed between the moment when that unwonted sound was
heard, and the time at which the action of the tale now stands, he had
never heard it repeated. To heighten the feelings which were now
uppermost in the mind of Ruth, when within a day's march of the village
to which he was going, Content had found means to send the tidings of his
prospects of success. It was over all these renewed wishes that
disappointment was to throw its chill, and it was affections thus riveted
that were to be again blighted by the cruelest of all withering
influences,--that of hope defeated.
It was near the hour of the setting of the sun, when Content and Dudley
reached the deserted clearing on their return to the valley. Their path
led through this opening on the mountain-side, and there was one point,
among the bushes, from which the buildings, that had already arisen from
the ashes of the burning, might be distinctly seen. Until now, the
husband and father had believed himself equal to any effort that duty
might require, in the progress of this mournful service. But here he
paused, and communicated a wish to his companion that he would go ahead
and break the nature of the deception that had led them so far on a
fruitless mission. Perhaps Content was himself ignorant of all he wished,
or to what unskilful hands he had confided a commission of more than
ordinary delicacy. He merely felt his own inability, and, with a weakness
that may find some apology in his feelings, he saw his companion depart,
without instructions or indeed without any other guide than Nature.
Though Faith had betrayed no marked uneasiness during the absence of the
travellers, her quick eye was the first to discover the form of her
husband, as he came with a tired step across the fields, in the direction
of the dwellings. Long ere Dudley reached the house, every one of its
inmates had assembled in the piazza. This was no meeting of turbulent
delight, or of clamorous greetings. The adventurer drew near amid a
silence so oppressive, that it utterly disconcerted a studied project, by
which he had hoped to announce his tidings in a manner suited to the
occasion. His hand was on the gate of the little court, and still none
spoke; his foot was on the low step, and yet no voice bade him welcome.
The looks of the little group were rather fixed on the features of Ruth,
than on the person of him who approached. Her face was pallid as death,
her eye contracted, but filled with the mental effort that sustained her;
and her lip scarce trembled, as, in obedience to a feeling still stronger
than the one which had so long oppressed her, she exclaimed--
"Eben Dudley, where hast thou left my husband?"
"The young Captain was a-foot weary, and he tarried in the second growth
of the hill; but so brave a walker cannot be far behind. We shall see him
soon, at the opening by the dead beech; and it is there that I recommend
the Madam--"
"It was thoughtful in Heathcote, and like his usual kindness, to devise
this well-meant caution!" said Ruth, across whose countenance a smile so
radiant passed, that it imparted the expression which is believed to
characterize the peculiar benignancy of angels. "Still it was unnecessary;
for he should have known that we place our strength on the Rock of Ages.
Tell me, in what manner hath my precious one borne the exceeding weariness
of thy tangled route?"
The wandering glance of the messenger had gone from face to face, until it
became fastened on the countenance of his own wife, in a settled,
unmeaning gaze.
"Nay, Faith hath demeaned well, both as my assistant and as thy partner,
and thou mayest see that her comeliness is in no degree changed--And did
the babe falter in this weary passage, or did she retard thy movements by
her fretfulness? But I know thy nature, man; she hath been borne over many
long miles of mountain-side and treacherous swamp, in thine own vigorous
arms. Thou answerest not, Dudley!" exclaimed Ruth, taking the alarm, and
laying a hand firmly on the shoulder of him she questioned, as, forcing
his half-averted face to meet her eye, she seemed to read his soul.
The muscles of the sun-burnt and strong features of the borderer worked
involuntarily, his broad chest swelled to its utmost expansion, big
burning drops rolled out upon his brown cheeks, and then, taking the arm
of Ruth in one of his own powerful hands, he compelled her to release her
hold, with a firm but respectful exercise of his strength; and, thrusting
the form of his own wife, without ceremony, aside, he passed through the
circle, and entered the dwelling, with the tread of a giant.
The head of Ruth dropped upon her bosom, the paleness again came over
her cheeks, and it was then that the inward look of the eye might first
be seen, which afterwards became so constant and so painful an
expression in her countenance. From that hour, to the time in which the
family of the Wish-Ton-Wish is again brought immediately before the
reader, no further rumors were ever heard, to lessen or increase the
wasting regrets of her bosom.