“A baron's chylde to be begylde!
it were a cursed dede:
To be felàwe with an outlàwe!
Almighty God forbede!
Yea, better were, the pore squy
re alone to forest yede,
Then ye sholde say another day,
that by my cursed dede
Ye were betrayed:
wherefore, good mayde,
the best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the grene wode go, alone,
a banyshed man.”
Thomas Percy, 'Nutbrowne Mayde,' 11. 265-76 from Reliques of
Ancient English Poetry, Vol. II.
The day that followed proved to be melancholy, though one of much
activity. The soldiers, who had so lately been employed in interring
their victims, were now called on to bury their own dead. The scene
of the morning had left a saddened feeling on all the gentlemen of the
party, and the rest felt the influence of a similar sensation, in a
variety of ways and from many causes. Hour dragged on after hour until
evening arrived, and then came the last melancholy offices in honor of
poor Hetty Hutter. Her body was laid in the lake, by the side of that of
the mother she had so loved and reverenced, the surgeon, though actually
an unbeliever, so far complying with the received decencies of life as
to read the funeral service over her grave, as he had previously done
over those of the other Christian slain. It mattered not; that all
seeing eye which reads the heart, could not fail to discriminate between
the living and the dead, and the gentle soul of the unfortunate girl
was already far removed beyond the errors, or deceptions, of any human
ritual. These simple rites, however, were not wholly wanting in suitable
accompaniments. The tears of Judith and Hist were shed freely, and
Deerslayer gazed upon the limpid water, that now flowed over one whose
spirit was even purer than its own mountain springs, with glistening
eyes. Even the Delaware turned aside to conceal his weakness, while
the common men gazed on the ceremony with wondering eyes and chastened
feelings.
The business of the day closed with this pious office. By order of the
commanding officer, all retired early to rest, for it was intended to
begin the march homeward with the return of light. One party, indeed,
bearing the wounded, the prisoners, and the trophies, had left the
castle in the middle of the day under the guidance of Hurry, intending
to reach the fort by shorter marches. It had been landed on the point so
often mentioned, or that described in our opening pages, and, when the
sun set, was already encamped on the brow of the long, broken, and ridgy
hills, that fell away towards the valley of the Mohawk. The departure of
this detachment had greatly simplified the duty of the succeeding day,
disencumbering its march of its baggage and wounded, and otherwise
leaving him who had issued the order greater liberty of action.
Judith held no communications with any but Hist, after the death of her
sister, until she retired for the night. Her sorrow had been respected,
and both the females had been left with the body, unintruded on, to the
last moment. The rattling of the drum broke the silence of that tranquil
water, and the echoes of the tattoo were heard among the mountains,
so soon after the ceremony was over as to preclude the danger of
interruption. That star which had been the guide of Hist, rose on a
scene as silent as if the quiet of nature had never yet been disturbed
by the labors or passions of man. One solitary sentinel, with his
relief, paced the platform throughout the night, and morning was ushered
in, as usual, by the martial beat of the reveille.
Military precision succeeded to the desultory proceedings of border men,
and when a hasty and frugal breakfast was taken, the party began its
movement towards the shore with a regularity and order that prevented
noise or confusion. Of all the officers, Warley alone remained. Craig
headed the detachment in advance, Thornton was with the wounded, and
Graham accompanied his patients as a matter of course. Even the chest
of Hutter, with all the more valuable of his effects, was borne away,
leaving nothing behind that was worth the labor of a removal. Judith was
not sorry to see that the captain respected her feelings, and that he
occupied himself entirely with the duty of his command, leaving her to
her own discretion and feelings. It was understood by all that the place
was to be totally abandoned; but beyond this no explanations were asked
or given.
The soldiers embarked in the Ark, with the captain at their head. He had
enquired of Judith in what way she chose to proceed, and understanding
her wish to remain with Hist to the last moment, he neither molested her
with requests, nor offended her with advice. There was but one safe
and familiar trail to the Mohawk, and on that, at the proper hour,
he doubted not that they should meet in amity, if not in renewed
intercourse. When all were on board, the sweeps were manned, and the Ark
moved in its sluggish manner towards the distant point. Deerslayer and
Chingachgook now lifted two of the canoes from the water, and placed
them in the castle. The windows and door were then barred, and the
house was left by means of the trap, in the manner already described. On
quitting the palisades, Hist was seen in the remaining canoe, where
the Delaware immediately joined her, and paddled away, leaving Judith
standing alone on the platform. Owing to this prompt proceeding,
Deerslayer found himself alone with the beautiful and still weeping
mourner. Too simple to suspect anything, the young man swept the light
boat round, and received its mistress in it, when he followed the course
already taken by his friend. The direction to the point led diagonally
past, and at no great distance from, the graves of the dead. As the
canoe glided by, Judith for the first time that morning spoke to her
companion. She said but little; merely uttering a simple request to
stop, for a minute or two, ere she left the place.
“I may never see this spot again, Deerslayer,” she said, “and it
contains the bodies of my mother and sister! Is it not possible, think
you, that the innocence of one of these beings may answer in the eyes of
God for the salvation of both?”
“I don't understand it so, Judith, though I'm no missionary, and am but
poorly taught. Each spirit answers for its own backslidings, though a
hearty repentance will satisfy God's laws.”
“Then must my poor poor mother be in heaven! Bitterly, bitterly has she
repented of her sins, and surely her sufferings in this life ought to
count as something against her sufferings in the next!”
“All this goes beyond me, Judith. I strive to do right, here, as the
surest means of keeping all right, hereafter. Hetty was oncommon, as
all that know'd her must allow, and her soul was as fit to consart with
angels the hour it left its body, as that of any saint in the Bible!”
“I do believe you only do her justice! Alas! Alas! that there should be
so great differences between those who were nursed at the same
breast, slept in the same bed, and dwelt under the same roof! But, no
matter--move the canoe, a little farther east, Deerslayer--the sun so
dazzles my eyes that I cannot see the graves. This is Hetty's, on the
right of mother's?”
“Sartain--you ask'd that of us, and all are glad to do as you wish,
Judith, when you do that which is right.”
The girl gazed at him near a minute, in silent attention; then she
turned her eyes backward, at the castle. “This lake will soon be
entirely deserted,” she said, “and this, too, at a moment when it will
be a more secure dwelling place than ever. What has so lately happened
will prevent the Iroquois from venturing again to visit it for a long
time to come.”
“That it will! Yes, that may be set down as sartain. I do not mean to
pass this-a-way, ag'in, so long as the war lasts, for, to my mind no
Huron moccasin will leave its print on the leaves of this forest,
until their traditions have forgotten to tell their young men of their
disgrace and rout.”
“And do you so delight in violence and bloodshed? I had thought better
of you, Deerslayer--believed you one who could find his happiness in
a quiet domestic home, with an attached and loving wife ready to study
your wishes, and healthy and dutiful children anxious to follow in your
footsteps, and to become as honest and just as yourself.”
“Lord, Judith, what a tongue you're mistress of! Speech and looks go
hand in hand, like, and what one can't do, the other is pretty sartain
to perform! Such a gal, in a month, might spoil the stoutest warrior in
the colony.”
“And am I then so mistaken? Do you really love war, Deerslayer, better
than the hearth, and the affections?”
“I understand your meaning, gal; yes, I do understand what you mean, I
believe, though I don't think you altogether understand me. Warrior I
may now call myself, I suppose, for I've both fou't and conquered, which
is sufficient for the name; neither will I deny that I've feelin's
for the callin', which is both manful and honorable when carried on
accordin' to nat'ral gifts, but I've no relish for blood. Youth is
youth, howsever, and a Mingo is a Mingo. If the young men of this region
stood by, and suffered the vagabonds to overrun the land, why, we might
as well all turn Frenchers at once, and give up country and kin. I'm no
fire eater, Judith, or one that likes fightin' for fightin's sake, but I
can see no great difference atween givin' up territory afore a war, out
of a dread of war, and givin' it up a'ter a war, because we can't help
it, onless it be that the last is the most manful and honorable.”
“No woman would ever wish to see her husband or brother stand by and
submit to insult and wrong, Deerslayer, however she might mourn the
necessity of his running into the dangers of battle. But, you've done
enough already, in clearing this region of the Hurons; since to you
is principally owing the credit of our late victory. Now, listen to
me patiently, and answer me with that native honesty, which it is as
pleasant to regard in one of your sex, as it is unusual to meet with.”
Judith paused, for now that she was on the very point of explaining
herself, native modesty asserted its power, notwithstanding the
encouragement and confidence she derived from the great simplicity of
her companion's character. Her cheeks, which had so lately been pale,
flushed, and her eyes lighted with some of their former brilliancy.
Feeling gave expression to her countenance and softness to her voice,
rendering her who was always beautiful, trebly seductive and winning.
“Deerslayer,” she said, after a considerable pause, “this is not a
moment for affectation, deception, or a want of frankness of any sort.
Here, over my mother's grave, and over the grave of truth-loving,
truth-telling Hetty, everything like unfair dealing seems to be out of
place. I will, therefore, speak to you without any reserve, and without
any dread of being misunderstood. You are not an acquaintance of a week,
but it appears to me as if I had known you for years. So much, and so
much that is important has taken place, within that short time, that the
sorrows, and dangers, and escapes of a whole life have been crowded
into a few days, and they who have suffered and acted together in such
scenes, ought not to feel like strangers. I know that what I am about
to say might be misunderstood by most men, but I hope for a generous
construction of my course from you. We are not here, dwelling among the
arts and deceptions of the settlements, but young people who have no
occasion to deceive each other, in any manner or form. I hope I make
myself understood?”
“Sartain, Judith; few convarse better than yourself, and none more
agreeable, like. Your words are as pleasant as your looks.”
“It is the manner in which you have so often praised those looks, that
gives me courage to proceed. Still, Deerslayer, it is not easy for
one of my sex and years to forget all her lessons of infancy, all
her habits, and her natural diffidence, and say openly what her heart
feels!”
“Why not, Judith? Why shouldn't women as well as men deal fairly and
honestly by their fellow creatur's? I see no reason why you should not
speak as plainly as myself, when there is any thing ra'ally important to
be said.”
This indomitable diffidence, which still prevented the young man from
suspecting the truth, would have completely discouraged the girl, had
not her whole soul, as well as her whole heart, been set upon making a
desperate effort to rescue herself from a future that she dreaded with
a horror as vivid as the distinctness with which she fancied she foresaw
it. This motive, however, raised her above all common considerations,
and she persevered even to her own surprise, if not to her great
confusion.
“I will--I must deal as plainly with you, as I would with poor, dear
Hetty, were that sweet child living!” she continued, turning pale
instead of blushing, the high resolution by which she was prompted
reversing the effect that such a procedure would ordinarily produce on
one of her sex; “yes, I will smother all other feelings, in the one that
is now uppermost! You love the woods and the life that we pass, here, in
the wilderness, away from the dwellings and towns of the whites.”
“As I loved my parents, Judith, when they was living! This very spot
would be all creation to me, could this war be fairly over, once; and
the settlers kept at a distance.”
“Why quit it, then? It has no owner--at least none who can claim
a better right than mine, and that I freely give to you. Were it a
kingdom, Deerslayer, I think I should delight to say the same. Let us
then return to it, after we have seen the priest at the fort, and never
quit it again, until God calls us away to that world where we shall find
the spirits of my poor mother and sister.”
A long, thoughtful pause succeeded; Judith here covered her face with
both her hands, after forcing herself to utter so plain a proposal, and
Deerslayer musing equally in sorrow and surprise, on the meaning of
the language he had just heard. At length the hunter broke the silence,
speaking in a tone that was softened to gentleness by his desire not to
offend.
“You haven't thought well of this, Judith,” he said, “no, your feelin's
are awakened by all that has lately happened, and believin' yourself to
be without kindred in the world, you are in too great haste to find some
to fill the places of them that's lost.”
“Were I living in a crowd of friends, Deerslayer, I should still think
as I now think--say as I now say,” returned Judith, speaking with her
hands still shading her lovely face.
“Thank you, gal--thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Howsever, I
am not one to take advantage of a weak moment, when you're forgetful of
your own great advantages, and fancy 'arth and all it holds is in this
little canoe. No--no--Judith, 'twould be onginerous in me; what you've
offered can never come to pass!”
“It all may be, and that without leaving cause of repentance to any,”
answered Judith, with an impetuosity of feeling and manner that at once
unveiled her eyes. “We can cause the soldiers to leave our goods on the
road, till we return, when they can easily be brought back to the house;
the lake will be no more visited by the enemy, this war at least; all
your skins may be readily sold at the garrison; there you can buy the
few necessaries we shall want, for I wish never to see the spot, again;
and Deerslayer,” added the girl smiling with a sweetness and nature that
the young man found it hard to resist, “as a proof how wholly I am and
wish to be yours,--how completely I desire to be nothing but your wife,
the very first fire that we kindle, after our return, shall be lighted
with the brocade dress, and fed by every article I have that you may
think unfit for the woman you wish to live with!”
“Ah's me!--you're a winning and a lovely creatur', Judith; yes, you are
all that, and no one can deny it and speak truth. These pictur's are
pleasant to the thoughts, but they mightn't prove so happy as you now
think 'em. Forget it all, therefore, and let us paddle after the Sarpent
and Hist, as if nothing had been said on the subject.”
Judith was deeply mortified, and, what is more, she was profoundly
grieved. Still there was a steadiness and quiet in the manner of
Deerslayer that completely smothered her hopes, and told her that for
once her exceeding beauty had failed to excite the admiration and homage
it was wont to receive. Women are said seldom to forgive those who
slight their advances, but this high spirited and impetuous girl
entertained no shadow of resentment, then or ever, against the fair
dealing and ingenuous hunter. At the moment, the prevailing feeling was
the wish to be certain that there was no misunderstanding. After another
painful pause, therefore, she brought the matter to an issue by a
question too direct to admit of equivocation.
“God forbid that we lay up regrets, in after life, through my want of
sincerity now,” she said. “I hope we understand each other, at least.
You will not accept me for a wife, Deerslayer?”
“'Tis better for both that I shouldn't take advantage of your own
forgetfulness, Judith. We can never marry.”
“You do not love me,--cannot find it in your heart, perhaps, to esteem
me, Deerslayer!”
“Everything in the way of fri'ndship, Judith--everything, even to
sarvices and life itself. Yes, I'd risk as much for you, at this moment,
as I would risk in behalf of Hist, and that is sayin' as much as I can
say of any darter of woman. I do not think I feel towards either--mind I
say either, Judith--as if I wished to quit father and mother--if father
and mother was livin', which, howsever, neither is--but if both was
livin', I do not feel towards any woman as if I wish'd to quit 'em in
order to cleave unto her.”
“This is enough!” answered Judith, in a rebuked and smothered voice.
“I understand all that you mean. Marry you cannot with loving, and that
love you do not feel for me. Make no answer, if I am right, for I shall
understand your silence. That will be painful enough of itself.”
Deerslayer obeyed her, and he made no reply. For more than a minute, the
girl riveted her bright eyes on him as if to read his soul, while he
was playing with the water like a corrected school boy. Then Judith,
herself, dropped the end of her paddle, and urged the canoe away from
the spot, with a movement as reluctant as the feelings which controlled
it. Deerslayer quietly aided the effort, however, and they were soon on
the trackless line taken by the Delaware.
In their way to the point, not another syllable was exchanged between
Deerslayer and his fair companion. As Judith sat in the bow of the
canoe, her back was turned towards him, else it is probable the
expression of her countenance might have induced him to venture some
soothing terms of friendship and regard. Contrary to what would have
been expected, resentment was still absent, though the colour frequently
changed from the deep flush of mortification to the paleness of
disappointment. Sorrow, deep, heart-felt sorrow, however, was the
predominant emotion, and this was betrayed in a manner not to be
mistaken.
As neither labored hard at the paddle, the ark had already arrived
and the soldiers had disembarked before the canoe of the two loiterers
reached the point. Chingachgook had preceded it, and was already some
distance in the wood, at a spot where the two trails, that to the
garrison and that to the villages of the Delawares, separated. The
soldiers, too, had taken up their line of march, first setting the Ark
adrift again, with a reckless disregard of its fate. All this Judith
saw, but she heeded it not. The glimmerglass had no longer any charms
for her, and when she put her foot on the strand, she immediately
proceeded on the trail of the soldiers without casting a single glance
behind her. Even Hist was passed unnoticed, that modest young creature
shrinking from the averted face of Judith, as if guilty herself of some
wrongdoing.
“Wait you here, Sarpent,” said Deerslayer as he followed in the
footsteps of the dejected beauty, while passing his friend. “I will just
see Judith among her party, and come and j'ine you.”
A hundred yards had hid the couple from those in front, as well as those
in their rear, when Judith turned, and spoke.
“This will do, Deerslayer,” she said sadly. “I understand your kindness
but shall not need it. In a few minutes I shall reach the soldiers. As
you cannot go with me on the journey of life, I do not wish you to go
further on this. But, stop--before we part, I would ask you a single
question. And I require of you, as you fear God, and reverence the
truth, not to deceive me in your answer. I know you do not love another
and I can see but one reason why you cannot, will not love me. Tell me
then, Deerslayer,” The girl paused, the words she was about to utter
seeming to choke her. Then rallying all her resolution, with a face that
flushed and paled at every breath she drew, she continued.
“Tell me then, Deerslayer, if anything light of me, that Henry March has
said, may not have influenced your feelings?”
Truth was the Deerslayer's polar star. He ever kept it in view, and it
was nearly impossible for him to avoid uttering it, even when prudence
demanded silence. Judith read his answer in his countenance, and with a
heart nearly broken by the consciousness of undue erring, she signed to
him an adieu, and buried herself in the woods. For some time Deerslayer
was irresolute as to his course; but, in the end, he retraced his steps,
and joined the Delaware. That night the three camped on the head waters
of their own river, and the succeeding evening they entered the village
of the tribe, Chingachgook and his betrothed in triumph; their companion
honored and admired, but in a sorrow that it required months of activity
to remove.
The war that then had its rise was stirring and bloody. The Delaware
chief rose among his people, until his name was never mentioned without
eulogiums, while another Uncas, the last of his race, was added to the
long line of warriors who bore that distinguishing appellation. As for
the Deerslayer, under the sobriquet of Hawkeye, he made his fame spread
far and near, until the crack of his rifle became as terrible to the
ears of the Mingos as the thunders of the Manitou. His services were
soon required by the officers of the crown, and he especially attached
himself in the field to one in particular, with whose after life he had
a close and important connection.
Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in the power of the Deerslayer
to revisit the Glimmerglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on the
eve of another and still more important war, when he and his constant
friend, Chingachgook, were hastening to the forts to join their allies.
A stripling accompanied them, for Hist already slumbered beneath
the pines of the Delawares, and the three survivors had now become
inseparable. They reached the lake just as the sun was setting. Here all
was unchanged. The river still rushed through its bower of trees; the
little rock was washing away, by the slow action of the waves, in the
course of centuries, the mountains stood in their native dress, dark,
rich and mysterious, while the sheet glistened in its solitude, a
beautiful gem of the forest.
The following morning, the youth discovered one of the canoes drifted
on the shore, in a state of decay. A little labor put it in a state for
service, and they all embarked, with a desire to examine the place. All
the points were passed, and Chingachgook pointed out to his son the
spot where the Hurons had first encamped, and the point whence he had
succeeded in stealing his bride. Here they even landed, but all traces
of the former visit had disappeared. Next they proceeded to the scene of
the battle, and there they found a few of the signs that linger around
such localities. Wild beasts had disinterred many of the bodies, and
human bones were bleaching in the rains of summer. Uncas regarded all
with reverence and pity, though traditions were already rousing his
young mind to the ambition and sternness of a warrior.
From the point, the canoe took its way toward the shoal, where the
remains of the castle were still visible, a picturesque ruin. The storms
of winter had long since unroofed the house, and decay had eaten into
the logs. All the fastenings were untouched, but the seasons rioted
in the place, as if in mockery at the attempt to exclude them. The
palisades were rotting, as were the piles, and it was evident that a few
more recurrences of winter, a few more gales and tempests, would
sweep all into the lake, and blot the building from the face of that
magnificent solitude. The graves could not be found. Either the elements
had obliterated their traces, or time had caused those who looked for
them to forget their position.
The Ark was discovered stranded on the eastern shore, where it had long
before been driven with the prevalent northwest winds. It lay on the
sandy extremity of a long low point, that is situated about two miles
from the outlet, and which is itself fast disappearing before the action
of the elements. The scow was filled with water, the cabin unroofed, and
the logs were decaying. Some of its coarser furniture still remained,
and the heart of Deerslayer beat quick, as he found a ribbon of Judith's
fluttering from a log. It recalled all her beauty, and we may add
all her failings. Although the girl had never touched his heart, the
Hawkeye, for so we ought now to call him, still retained a kind and
sincere interest in her welfare. He tore away the ribbon, and knotted it
to the stock of Killdeer, which had been the gift of the girl herself.
A few miles farther up the lake, another of the canoes was discovered,
and on the point where the party finally landed, were found those which
had been left there upon the shore. That in which the present navigation
was made, and the one discovered on the eastern shore, had dropped
through the decayed floor of the castle, drifted past the falling
palisades, and had been thrown as waifs upon the beach.
From all these signs, it was probable the lake had not been visited
since the occurrence of the final scene of our tale. Accident or
tradition had rendered it again a spot sacred to nature, the frequent
wars and the feeble population of the colonies still confining the
settlements within narrow boundaries. Chingachgook and his friend left
the spot with melancholy feelings. It had been the region of their First
War Path, and it carried back the minds of both to scenes of tenderness,
as well as to hours of triumph. They held their way towards the Mohawk
in silence, however, to rush into new adventures, as stirring and as
remarkable as those which had attended their opening careers on this
lovely lake. At a later day they returned to the place, where the Indian
found a grave.
Time and circumstances have drawn an impenetrable mystery around all
else connected with the Hutters. They lived, erred, died, and are
forgotten. None connected have felt sufficient interest in the disgraced
and disgracing to withdraw the veil, and a century is about to erase
even the recollection of their names. The history of crime is ever
revolting, and it is fortunate that few love to dwell on its incidents.
The sins of the family have long since been arraigned at the judgment
seat of God, or are registered for the terrible settlement of the last
great day.
The same fate attended Judith. When Hawkeye reached the garrison on the
Mohawk he enquired anxiously after that lovely but misguided creature.
None knew her--even her person was no longer remembered. Other officers
had, again and again, succeeded the Warleys and Craigs and Grahams,
though an old sergeant of the garrison, who had lately come from
England, was enabled to tell our hero that Sir Robert Warley lived on
his paternal estates, and that there was a lady of rare beauty in the
Lodge who had great influence over him, though she did not bear his
name. Whether this was Judith relapsed into her early failing, or some
other victim of the soldier's, Hawkeye never knew, nor would it be
pleasant or profitable to inquire. We live in a world of transgressions
and selfishness, and no pictures that represent us otherwise can be
true, though, happily, for human nature, gleamings of that pure spirit
in whose likeness man has been fashioned are to be seen, relieving its
deformities, and mitigating if not excusing its crimes.