Farewell ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destiny;
M'Pherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows-tree.
M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.
The singular discovery of Hyland's innocence was long before morning
bruited over the village, and besides exciting a double interest in
his fate, produced no little curiosity in regard to the movements of
the jury, who were still deliberating over the charge, as well as to
the course to be pursued by the court, in such a strange conjuncture
of circumstances.
Expectation was not, however, kept long at stretch. An early and
formal representation of the discovery being made by the prisoner's
counsel to the presiding judge, the court was straightway convened,
and the jury ordered to be recalled, for the purpose of receiving the
new testimony. This, consisting of Sterling's deposition and the
evidence of witnesses as to its authenticity, it may be supposed, was
sufficient to terminate their deliberations in a moment. Had the
confession been made at a later period, it would undoubtedly have
saved the prisoner's life; but it occurred at a time to save his good
name,--to save it, at least, from the reproach, which, however
undeserved, must ever follow upon even unjust conviction. His true
story and character, and, in fact, his real parentage, were now
becoming generally known; new friends, as well as many an old one,
were labouring in his service, and all were desirous to see the end
of a prosecution, that had caused him so much unmerited suffering.
The trial was therefore despatched without difficulty; the evidence
was given; a few brief and impressive words, indicative of their
gratification at the defendant's happy escape from his difficulties,
and their own from a share in wrong-doing, were pronounced by the
bench; after which the whole matter was submitted to the jury, who,
without leaving their seats, immediately returned a verdict of
acquittal. The defendant was then discharged, in the ordinary way, by
proclamation, and shed tears of genuine transport to find himself
released from the ignominy that had before, as strongly almost as his
remorse, crushed him to the earth. He had scarce stepped from the bar
before he found himself in the arms of Captain Loring, who hugged and
blubbered, and swore 'adzooks, he always thought him an honest
fellow, for all of their talking; and adzooks, it was no wonder he
loved him, since he was of his own blood and bone, though he didn't
like his having so much Gilbert blood in him; and if he had only told
him as much before, it would have been much better for him, and,
adzooks, for his poor Kate, and, adzooks, for the picture!'
At the bed-side of the dying Falconer he found his father's daughter.
His sister!--With what strange and contradictory emotions he received
the hand of the being, to whose unhappy hostility he owed the long
series of sufferings and indignities that had brought him almost to
the grave. And she,--with what feelings she must have herself seen in
the object of her greatest hate, one to whom nature had given the
strongest claims on her love. But the place in which they met called
for other than selfish emotions: it was at the death-bed of their
common parent.
It is not our design to pursue further in detail the history of this
unfortunate man. The bullet of Oran Gilbert (for it was now known
that the shot could have been fired by no other, all the members of
his band having been either killed or captured,) had been well aimed,
though he who fired it deemed it was speeded against the breast of
his own brother. The better victim lingered but a few days, and then
expired; so that the same grave which received his unlucky son closed
over the guilt and sorrow of the parent. He lived long enough to
remove the veil of shame from the sepulchre of the betrayed wife, and
to do her reparation in the person of her son; but it was, as he had
before declared, at the expense of his daughter. She never more
lifted up her head. A sense of her parent's baseness, and the
disgrace now attached to her own origin, with perhaps the bitter
consciousness that her cruel design upon the happiness of her friend
had caused the ruin that surrounded her, weighed her to the earth;
and two years after her father's death, she was herself borne to the
grave, the last victim of the retribution which so often visits the
sins of the father upon the heads of his children.
It remains but to reveal the fate of two other prominent persons in
the story, before exchanging the gloom pervading the last act of the
tragedy, for the sunshine that should mark the close.
The prisoner Sterling, notwithstanding his own expectations of a
speedy dissolution, lingered a full month before he expired; and in
all that time displayed the workings of the hallucination which had
been the consequence of his crime. He saw before him continually--for
day and night were now alike to him--the ghastly figure of young
Falconer, frowning at his bed-side; and frequently the phantom of the
elder brother was added, in imagination, to the terrors of the other.
He died in this fearful frame of mind; and thus carried to the
after-tribunal the guilt which escaped the punishment of man.
The fate of Oran Gilbert remained for many months wrapped in
obscurity. He must have fired the shot that struck a bosom he had so
often coveted to pierce, from the open square behind the prison; yet
he effected his escape from the village without pursuit and almost
without observation, the discharge of the rifle having excited but
little notice at a moment when all the crowded throngs in the streets
were rushing towards the court. The alarm, however, being soon given,
many men armed themselves and started in pursuit, though without any
knowledge of the direction in which he had fled, and, indeed, without
at first being aware whom they followed. The first traces of him were
discovered in the Hollow, at Elsie Bell's cottage, which it seems he
had entered before day, and there rested for awhile, to the great
terror of the little negro girl Margery, who was at that time the
only inmate of the hovel, and to whom he appeared little short of a
demon, his countenance being wild and dreadful, and his words and
actions, at least in her opinion, distracted. It was from the
circumstances developed here, that the pursuers found they were upon
the track of Oran Gilbert himself, now deprived of all followers, and
flying with the dreadful persuasion at his spirit, that his hand had
slain the last of his father's children.
It appeared from little Margery's account, that, after wildly
searching the house over, he asked for Elsie, and being told she was
in the village, sat down upon a chair, whence the girl soon saw blood
fall upon the floor; and, in fact, upon examination, it was found
that a considerable quantity of gore still lay by the chair on which
he had rested. He then called for water, and a napkin, the latter of
which he put upon his right side, securing it under a leathern belt;
after which he drank freely of the water, and going into Elsie's
private apartment, he took from the wall a little sampler, a relic,
as it appeared, of his deceased sister, tore it to pieces, and
scattered it over the floor. He then proceeded to the chamber so long
inhabited by Hyland, where finding many little sketches, and other
neglected scraps, he destroyed them in like manner. After this, he
descended to the room below, took up his gun, which he charged with
great care, and hunted about until he had found a strong and
sharp-pointed knife, which he stuck in his belt; and then, drinking
again from the pitcher, he left the hovel, without uttering a single
word, and Margery heard him ride away, apparently towards the
mountain.
This was enough for the pursuers, whose numbers had been increased by
volunteers along the way; and they instantly resumed the road, though
with no great hope of coming up with the fugitive, who had foiled
them so many times already. They knew, however, that the land was
full of parties still in search of him, none of which had perhaps
been so close upon his track as themselves. They were also inspired
by a discovery that was made when they came to examine the marks of
his horse's feet in the moist earth bordering the runlet in the
oak-yard, and this was, that the animal had cast a shoe; for which
reason, they supposed, the rider would be soon compelled to abandon
him, and seek shelter in some fast place among the woods, where he
might be surrounded, and perhaps taken alive. They rode on therefore
with new spirit, and coming at an early hour in the morning upon the
river bank, led by the tracks of his horse, which did not seem once
to have left the road, they descried him, or at least a horseman they
supposed to be him, riding along the bluff, at a slow gait,
indicative of the daring or recklessness of his character.
He rode a black horse, apparently of great native strength and
spirit; but, it was now obvious, the animal had been of late taxed
severely, and beyond his powers; for which reason, it was not
doubted, the fugitive could be overtaken, before he reached the
mountain, which was still distant three or four miles. The party
proclaimed their discovery and their hopes, by setting up a great
shout. At this, to their surprise, the refugee checked his wearied
steed, and turned round, as if for the purpose of making battle,--a
display of audacity and resolution that went far to cool the ardour
of many who had been, a moment before, the bravest of the whole
party. They saw him fling the rifle he carried into the hollow of his
left arm, and then, with his right hand, remove from his visage the
long locks of black hair that had, a moment before, swung wildly in
the wind; and they fancied they beheld, even at the distance which
separated them from him, a smile writhing over his pallid features,
like that of the panther at bay.
"Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" cried one of the party, taking a long
rifle from his shoulder, and advancing to the head of the others, who
had come to an universal halt. He was a man of middle age, with a
face as bleak and weather-worn as the rocks at the river's edge, tall
and gaunt of frame, but sinewy, and of a certain bully-like look
about the fists and eyes, that showed him to be no inconsiderable man
in his degree. "Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" he cried; "I up'old
you to be game, chock-full; and so, if you're for a pull ag'in
current, why, I'm clear for showing fair play. So men, just 'old by,
like honest fellers; and, my logs 'gin' his, I'll show him what long
shots is; for he and me was good friends of old."
"Go it, Dan Potts, the raftsman!" cried several of his companions,
handling their own arms, as if to try their virtues at a distance,
while others cried out, to advance in a body without further delay,
but set no example themselves, the appearance of the outlaw being
uninviting to all save the bold raftsman, who continued to move
onwards, though slowly and cautiously, as if well aware of the danger
of a personal contest with one who had been, as he said, his good
friend in old times. But the refugee, without regarding the challenge
of the raftsman, took advantage of the hesitation of his companions
to change his own plans, and by suddenly turning his horse and
spurring off with unexpected speed, he gained a considerable space
before they could recover from their surprise and follow. They darted
after him, however, with what activity they could; and cheering one
another with their voices, they rode on at such a pace that, in a few
moments, the whole party was sweeping betwixt the yawning jaws of the
Gap, up the course of which he directed his flight.
The mountain is here perhaps two thousand feet or more, in elevation.
Its course is oblique to the river, which itself is bent and twisted
out of its path by the irregular protrusion and retrogression of
cliffs and promontories. The right bank of the river, looking to the
east, is fenced by a dizzy and inaccessible wall of crags; while the
mountain on the other side, presenting a similar wall to the south,
dips down, westward, to the water in an angle more practicable to
human daring, though the whole declivity is covered over with loose
rocks, the remnants of some stony avalanche, tumbled from pinnacles
above by the same convulsion that thrust the mountain from the bowels
of the earth, or shivered it, already uprisen, asunder. A few
withered hemlocks are here and there seen springing from between
these disjointed fragments, which are, in other places, veiled by
patches of flowering-raspberry, alder, and other shrubs; though, in
general, the eye reposes on rocks entirely bald and naked, or, at
best, tufted with mosses, lichens, and ferns. It presents a scene of
dreary sterility and gloom; but its savage wildness can be only
appreciated by those who clamber up to its summit over those loose
and ever-precarious rocks, which afford the only footing.
Into the gorge bounded by these frowning limits the refugee was seen
to urge his steed; when suddenly, to the amazement of the pursuers,
he turned from the road, dashed through a wall of rosebays that
hedged it in, and the next moment plunged into the river, swimming
his horse right towards the opposite mountain. The cause of this
extraordinary step was soon perceived; for the next instant a troop
of horse in the continental uniform, came dashing down the Gap,
uttering a wild hurrah, that made the rocks ring. It was one of the
many parties of military by whom all the passes of the county were
guarded; and it seemed the fugitive had rushed almost amongst them,
before he discovered their presence. Nothing remained for him, thus
checked in front, and retreat cut off behind, but to fling himself
into the river, and seek refuge among the dens of the eastern
mountain; and this he attempted, though the chances were ten to one
that he should be shot from his horse, before he reached the opposite
bank. In fact, he had scarce swum beyond the middle of the stream,
before the two parties rushed to the water's edge and let fly a
volley, which, had it not been fired almost altogether from pistols,
must have brought his flight to a bloody close. The water was seen
bubbling around him, as the bullets pattered like rain-drops over its
surface; but he still swam on, as if unhurt, and some dozen or more
of the boldest riders present spurred their horses into the river to
follow.
"Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" cried Dan Potts, waving over his head
the long rifle he had not thought fit yet to discharge; "it's agin my
conscience to shoot an old friend in the back, 'specially when
there's no tree to cover him."
"Bang away, Dan Potts," cried others; "shoot, for the honour of the
county."
"The county be d----d," said Dan Potts; "I shoots from my own raft."
And with that, he raised his weapon, and taking deadly aim right
betwixt the refugee's shoulders, drew the trigger. But at that
moment, the horse, which had until now breasted his way gallantly
through the deep water, flung himself aloft in terror or in agony,
and rolling backwards, plunged his rider into the water, so that he
escaped the shot entirely, as perhaps the animal did also, though
that could never be known with certainty.
"I swog! and may I wreck my next raft on the Foul Rift, if I didn't!"
said Dan Potts, "but I hit the 'oss on the 'ead, and cuss the bit of
his master! Neversomever, I'll try for a spell ag'in, and the next'll
be a right-down rusty!"
With these words he spurred his horse into the river, with which his
employment as a raftsman had doubtless made him familiar; for,
whether it proceeded from this circumstance, or some other advantage
he possessed over the others, he was soon at the head of the
swimmers, and leading the pursuit.
In the meanwhile, Oran Gilbert was seen to spring erect on his
horse's back; but the animal never raised his head again from the
water, and Oran, abandoning him entirely, trusted to his own courage
and strength of arm to reach the rocks that were now close at hand.
In this attempt he succeeded. He was seen to issue from the water,
and aim his rifle, which he still retained, at the advancing Potts.
"Try it ag'in, old 'Awk!" roared Dan, as he saw the imperfect flash
expire, without being followed by any explosion; "try it ag'in, old
boy; or out knife and be ready!"
The only answer the tory deigned the bravado was, to fling his now
unserviceable and burdensome piece into the river, and then rush up
the mountain with all his speed. He was soon lost sight of among the
rocks and bushes; a piece of good fortune which he owed to a simple
expedient. As he clambered up, he took care to spurn from its
lodgment every stone that shook under his foot, which rolling down
the declivity, became a source of extreme confusion and peril to the
pursuers, (as such are indeed yet to the laggards in a mere party of
pleasure,) who were thus forced to loiter in the ascent, after having
previously lost some time in securing their horses at the bottom of
the hill, until there remained little hopes of overtaking him. The
raftsman was the only individual who, in this conjuncture, was able
to proceed with any spirit. He pressed upward, dodging the descending
rocks with infinite address and agility, and was soon lost sight of;
until, finally, even his voice, with which he continued to cheer the
others, was no longer heard.
The mountain was, however, climbed at last; but the refugee had
vanished. The only practicable path conducts you to the summit of the
hill along the edge of the southern precipices; and the last step is
from a shelf that overhangs the wooded abyss below, whence, peeping
over the brink of the cliffs at their most tremendous height, the eye
looks over many a league of blue hill and misty hollow, of living
wood and winding river,--a scene whose loveliness is made more
impressive by contrast with the savage desolation that reigns around
the point of view. A broad table of stone, shelving downwards, and in
part overhanging the abyss, lies like a parapet upon the extreme
brink of the precipice; and it is from this, lying upon his breast,
clinging with foot and hand to its crevices and the stunted bushes
that grow upon its surface, and advancing his head beyond the naked
verge, that the adventurous spectator looks down into the dizzy gulf
below,--if he have indeed the courage to look.
Upon this platform the raftsman was found reposing, his elbows
resting upon the parapet stone, and his countenance betraying wonder
mingled with perplexity. Upon being asked what had become of the
fugitive, he pointed to certain marks of fresh blood that lay on the
stones where he stood, hard-by the parapet, which was itself dabbled
with blood; and, in addition, the black lichens with which it was
overgrown, were torn up, as by the struggles of some human being
sliding down its inclined surface towards the horrible abyss beneath;
and a shrub springing from the verge, was snapped off, as if broken
by a human hand.
"I once," said the raftsman, "chased a two-year buck off this here
very rock; and I reckon, you may see some of his bones among the
bushes below. I was hunting with Oran Gilbert; we were boys together;
and, I remember, he said, 'It was a brave jump for a hard-pushed
beast, and a wise one, too.' Now let any man run his nose over the
rock's edge, and tell me what he sees swinging to a bush some fifty
or sixty fathoms below; for, to my eyes, it has much the look of a
green hunting-shirt, or a big rag of it. There's a stream of blood
running up along the rocks, and here's the ending of it. There was
some old wound bursting out on him afresh, and, to my thought, the
man was not able to run further; and so he remembered the deer, and
took a jump;--and I must say, it was a brave fancy of his, and a wise
one too."
To this conjecture confirmation was given, when one of the party,
having peered over the rock, declared that he saw the flutter of some
garment, hanging on a bush many a weary foot below. The stones were
hunted over again; a track of blood was plainly distinguished, and
had been remarked before, staining the rocks for some distance below;
and on this platform it ended. The closest search could not detect
any mark to show that the fugitive had proceeded a step further; it
was believed at once, that, having reached this spot, and found
himself incapable of proceeding further, the pursuers, headed by
Potts, pressing him close, he had thrown himself from the rocks,
preferring a death in keeping with his savage career, to falling
alive into the hands of his foes. There was no other way to account
for his disappearance, the presence of blood on the parapet, and the
wave of the garment below; and, indeed, a second, and then a third
person, looking down, they swore they could see, among the bushes at
the bottom of the cliffs, something that looked like a human form, as
they doubted not it was. It was accordingly resolved to descend the
mountain without delay, which, after uttering a loud shout of triumph
they did, with the single exception of the raftsman; who, declaring
himself overcome with fatigue, sat down upon a stone on the platform
to rest, and was soon lost sight of by the others. As the last man
left the shelf, he beckoned to him with his hand, nodded his head,
and took other means to arrest his attention; but these being
disregarded, or perhaps unperceived, he ceased his signals, and
muttered half to himself, half aloud,--
"Well done, Tom Wolf; you're no fox, and a man must ha' said, 'Fifty
guineas!' aloud, to fetch you. But I was a fool to think on't; no
'alves and no quarters, is my cry; and a man mought as well take the
money and the credit into his own hands, without sharing; for, I
reckon, the creatur's clean done up, and can make no more fight than
a 'possum. Neversomever, there's no varmint of the woods or water can
stand by him for a trick; and so we'll look sharp, Dan Potts, and see
what'll come out of it. I reckon I shall make them 'ere fellers
stare! They say, the governor has offered five hundred dollars for
him, hard money, dead or alive. Five hundred dollars isn't to be
made, every day, a-rafting. There's a big hole under that stone; and,
I remember, he boasted he had been down in it afore; which was like
enough, for he was always a ventur'ing devil."
It may be gathered from these expressions what cause had prevented
the raftsman leaving the shelf with his companions. Immediately
beneath the projecting portion of the table-rock, so often mentioned,
there is a cavity or niche in the face of the cliff, visible, on a
clear day, even from the foot of the mountain, and inaccessible from
the top only because there are few men in the world of sufficient
nerve to attempt reaching it, by climbing over the face of the
cliff,--an exploit the very thought of which is appalling. It
occurred to the ancient comrade of the refugee, that the latter,
persuaded he must be captured, unless he could throw his pursuers off
the scent, or delay the chase for a time, might have bethought him of
the stratagem of causing them to believe he had thrown himself from
the rocks, while, all the time, he was lying snugly and safely in the
cavity beneath the shelving rock, from which he might be expected to
sally out, the moment the pursuers had descended. This was rather a
conceit in the raftsman's mind than a positive suspicion; but it was
sufficient to impel him upon a new course of action, a main incentive
to which was the prospect it seemed to open to him of securing the
rewards that had been offered for the apprehension of the noted
outlaw.
He sat down therefore upon a stone opposite to the parapet, and
scarce twenty feet from it, holding his rifle ready cocked upon his
knee, his knife loosened in the sheath, and his little hunting-axe
lying at his feet; and he sat thus without fear, knowing that, even
if the refugee were armed and in the pride of his strength and
daring, he could not ascend to the shelf, without being entirely at
his mercy. He sat in silence, expecting each moment to see the fierce
eyes of the outcast peering over the rock, or to hear the rattling of
stones along the face of the cliff, denoting that he had left his
hiding-place, and was beginning to ascend. He sat watching, however,
a long time in vain;--and was beginning to believe that his suspicion
was groundless, and that the desperate Oran had in truth leaped from
the cliff, when suddenly there rose beyond the verge of the rock the
apparition of a human head, but so spectral, so pale, so ghastly with
blood, and so wildly unnatural of expression, that he was seized with
a sudden fear, and beheld the whole body succeed it, and the refugee
himself (for it was he) stand erect upon the parapet, before he could
raise his piece, and charge him to surrender.
"I have you, Oran, old friend!" he said, at last; "so down knife, and
take quarter. If you move foot or hand, I'll fire upon you."
The outlaw heard his voice, and beheld the threatening weapon,
without any manifestation of surprise. He bent his eyes upon him with
a stare that curdled the raftsman's blood. "Fire!" he said, and
laughed; and then suddenly drawing the knife he had taken from
Elsie's cottage, he made a fierce spring from the rock right against
the uplifted rifle. The attack was so unexpected and energetic that
Potts had scarce time to pull the trigger, before the tory lighted on
the shelf at his feet. He drew it, however, with the certainty that
the next moment the assailant would be lying dead at his foot--he
drew it, and not even a flash burst from the treacherous powder; it
snapped in his hands; and before he could exchange it for another
weapon, nay, before he could even draw his knife, he found the blade
of his opponent glimmering at his breast. He caught at his wrist, the
only expedient that saved him from a mortal thrust: and being of
great nerve, he strove, at the same time, to hurl the tory upon the
rock. But great as was his strength, and feeble as he had supposed
the powers of Oran to be, the attempt was foiled, and he began in his
heart to curse the covetousness, that had deprived him of a helper,
in such a time of need. As he caught the wrist of Oran in his left
hand, he sought, with the other, to snatch his own knife from the
sheath; but the motion was anticipated, and his own right hand
grasped in Oran's left; so that the two stood for an instant facing
one another, entangled, as it might be said, like two wild bucks,
that have, at the first blow, interlocked their antlers together, and
thus remain glaring at each other, waging battle only with their
eyes. In that instant, the raftsman beheld enough to make him repent
the temerity with which he had sought to bring the refugee to bay.
Instead of being weakened by loss of blood, or exhausted by the toil
of ascending the mountain, it seemed as if he was suddenly imbued
with new strength, as well as additional fury, by the mere presence
of a foe; and there was that in his countenance, which expressed,
along with a native love of conflict, the malignant ferocity of a
maniac. Indeed, his appearance was so fearful, and his ability to
resist to the uttermost so manifest, that the raftsman felt strongly
moved to call for a parley and propose a mutual release; but the
desire came too late. The tory perceived the fainting of his heart,
and laughed:
"I never did harm to you or yours, Dan Potts," he said; "but you
shall never say so more. You would sell the blood of a dying man--you
must first win it."
With that, he relaxed his grasp on the raftsman's right hand, as if
for the purpose of seizing him by the throat; and Potts took instant
advantage of the motion, to snatch his knife from its sheath. The
motion was a trick of juggling, such as the outlaw had learned among
the red associates of his boyhood, and perhaps practised in similar
encounters before. The next instant, he had thrown the whole weight
of his body upon the raftsman's breast, and directing the half-drawn
blade at the same time with his hand, Potts fell upon the rock, his
own weapon buried to the handle in his side.
"Go!" shouted the victor, leaping up, and dragging his victim towards
a corner of the shelf, where no parapet intervened betwixt them and
the abyss,--"to your fellow bloodhounds below!--Something in memory
of Hyland Gilbert!"
He struck the body with his foot,--it rolled crashing over the
slender twigs and decaying flakes of stone on the brink of the
precipice, and then disappeared, with not a sound to indicate its
fall upon the shivered rocks below. The next moment, the victor ran
from the platform, and was buried among the forests that darken the
long and desolate summit of the ridge.
It was perhaps two hours, or more, before the party of pursuers,
descending the mountain to the river, and making their way along the
lesser elevation of rocks, heaped at the foot of the great southern
precipice, from which they have fallen, reached the spot where they
expected to find the mangled corse of the outlaw. Their astonishment
and horror may be conceived, when, instead of that, they lighted upon
the body of the raftsman, known by his garments, for scarce a vestige
of humanity remained, and sought to penetrate the mysterious cause of
his fall. The true reason was rather supposed than inferred; but
their suspicions were confirmed when the mountain was re-ascended,
and his axe and cap found lying on the shelf, as well as a new track
of blood, leading along the ridge. This was followed, until it led
them to a spot, where, it was evident, the fugitive had rested awhile
and bound up his wounds. But here the trace entirely failed, and was
never again recovered. The mountains were hunted over and over for
weeks, but not the slightest vestige of the refugee rewarded the
search.
In the course of the ensuing winter, a party of hunters, following a
wolf, were led to the banks of one of those little lakes, that lie,
like dots of sapphire and crystal, along the broken ridges of the
mountain. In this remote nook, in a hollow, surrounded by jagged
rocks and hemlock-trees, were found several rude huts, or wigwams, of
boughs, now in ruins, such as the hunters make, when they 'camp out'
in the wilderness, with the remains of fires in front of each. This
place was supposed to have been one of the chief retreats of the
refugees. At some distance from the huts, on the edge of the lake,
they fell upon the bones of a human being, scattered about among the
stones and bushes, as if rent asunder by wild beasts; and near them
was discovered a rusted rifle, which, being taken to the valley, was
recognised as the weapon of Potts, the raftsman, which had not been
found either upon the platform where the party of pursuers had left
him, or near his body. This circumstance induced a suspicion that the
bones were those of Oran Gilbert, who had armed himself with the
raftsman's piece, before leaving the platform. There remained no
other memorial of his fate, and no other circumstance was found to
identify the skeleton with the man once so much dreaded and detested;
but it was not doubted that hither, into the savage wilderness, he
had dragged his mangled frame, and perished miserably.
The close of Hyland's story may be readily imagined. His sufferings
he might have considered as being retributive in their nature,--since
his return to the land of his birth had no worthier cause than a
desire to take part in the conflict against her liberties. This
desire had been indeed cooled by personal observation of the feelings
and principles which supported his countrymen through a long period
of disaster and suffering; and the last blow was given to the
unworthy ambition by the love for one of his country's daughters that
soon entangled his spirit. The giving way to wrath and the lust of
blood, though but for a moment, had been followed by the last and
heaviest of his griefs, not the lightest of which was his temporary
belief in his own guilt, and his consequent remorse. But the shadow
had now departed from him, and for ever; and it was soon perceived by
all who chose to ponder over his history, that his greatest crime had
been his affection, and the ill-judged deed of violence into which it
had led him.
His meeting with the Captain's daughter, after his liberation, was
one of mingled joy and grief; but it was the last one marked with
tears. The bloom returned again to Catherine's cheek, and, in course
of time, the gay and merry spirit, native to her bosom, revisited its
former cell; and if a shadow ever again darkened her countenance, it
was only when, sometimes wandering along the brook and by the
waterfall, (whence the bones of Jessie had been long since removed,
to be deposited near those of her step-mother in the village
church-yard,) she remembered the trials of sorrow, and the scenes of
blood, through which she had been conducted to final happiness. She
wept, indeed, when Harriet died, for she had forgiven her; but that
was the only grief that clouded a long period of peace and sunshine.
Our inquiries after the fate of the less important personages of our
tradition have never been very satisfactory in results. Americans are
a race of Utilitarians, all busied in the acquisition of profitable
knowledge, and just as ready, if not as anxious, to forget all lore
of an useless character. The little anecdotes of a district last but
for a generation; the fathers tell them to the children, but the
children find something better to think about, and so forget them. We
know nothing of the latter years of Elsie Bell, but can readily
believe they passed in comfort and peace. Her little cottage has long
since vanished from the earth, the running of newer and better roads
in other places having long since diverted all travel from the
precincts of Hawk-Hollow.
Dancy Parkins, we suppose, under the auspicious patronage of the new
master of the valley, pursued his claims to the love of the fair
Phoebe; but as that was a matter of much more consequence to him than
the reader, we never cared much to inquire his fate.
Our curiosity in relation to the career of the unworthy limb of the
law, Theophilus Affidavy, Esq., has been somewhat stronger; yet we
could never find that a single act of his life, or even his name, has
been retained by those who dwell near the scene of his exploits. His
adventure in the brook, with his ride on the back of the buttonwood
tree, has, by some strange accident, travelled into an adjacent
county, where it is told as a very good story, though the honour is
supposed to attach to an individual of another name and profession.
But it is with a strange story as with an old pun; it finds fathers,
as it travels.
As for Captain Loring, all we have to say of him is, that he lived
long enough to rejoice over the union of his daughter with Hyland
Falconer as much as he would perhaps have mourned over her early
grave, had her destiny wedded her to the unlucky younger brother. He
lived also to see, with a rapture that lasted to his dying day, the
painter resume the brush, and put the last finish to 'the grand
picture of the Battle of Brandywine, and Tom Loring, dying.'
THE END.