“She looked on many a face with vacant eye,
On many a token without knowing what;
She saw them watch her without asking why,
And reck'd not who around her pillow sat;
Not speechless, though she spoke not; not a sigh
Relieved her thoughts: dull silence and quick chat
Were tried in vain by by those who served; she gave
No sign, save breath, of having left the grave.”
BYRON.
It was a most painful moment to me, when Herman Mordaunt, an hour after all
these facts were established, came to summon me to the presence of Anneke
and Mary Wallace. One gleam of joy, one ray of the sunshine of the heart,
shone on Anneke's sweet countenance as she saw me unharmed enter the
room, but it quickly disappeared in the strong sympathy she felt for the
sufferings of her friend. As for Mary Wallace, death itself could hardly
have left her more colourless, or with features more firmly impressed with
the expression of mental suffering. Anneke was the first to speak.
“God be praised that this dreadful night is passed, and you and my dearest
father are spared!” the precious girl said, with fervour, pressing the hand
that had taken one of hers, in both her own. “For this much, at least, we
can be grateful; would I could add for the safety of us all!”
“Tell me the worst at once, Mr. Littlepage,” added Mary Wallace; “I can
bear anything better than uncertainty. Mr. Mordaunt says that you know the
facts better than any one else, and that you must relate them. Speak, then,
though it break my heart to hear it!--is he killed?”
“I hope, through Heaven's mercy, not. Indeed, I think not; though I fear he
must be a prisoner.”
“Thank you for that, dear, dear Mr. Littlepage! Oh! Thank you for that,
from the bottom of my heart. But may they not torture him? Do not these
Hurons torture their prisoners? Conceal nothing from me, Corny; you cannot
imagine how much self-command I have, and how well I can behave. Oh!
conceal nothing.”
Poor girl! At the very moment she was boasting of her fortitude and ability
to endure, her whole frame was trembling from head to foot, her face was
of the hue of death, and the smile with which she spoke was frightfully
haggard. That pent-up passion, which had so long struggled with her
prudence, could no longer be suppressed. That she really loved Guert, and
that her love would prove stronger than her discretion, I had not doubted,
now, for some months; but, never having before witnessed the strength of
any feeling that had been so long and so painfully suppressed, I confess
that this exhibition of a suffering so intense, in a being so delicate, so
excellent, and so lovely, almost unmanned me. I took Mary Wallace's hand
and led her to a chair, scarce knowing what to say to relieve her mind. All
this time, her eye never turned from mine, as if she hoped to learn the
truth by the aid of the sense of sight alone. How anxious, jealous,
distrustful, and yet beseeching was that gaze!
“Will he be tortured?” She rather whispered huskily, than asked aloud.
“I trust, by God's mercy, not. They have taken my slave, Jaap, also; and it
is far more probable that _he_ would be the victim, in such a case, than
Mr. Ten Eyck--”
“Why do you call him Mr. Ten Eyck? You have always called him Guert of
late--you are his friend--you think well of him--you cannot be less his
friend, now that he is miserable, than when he was happy, and the pride of
all human eyes, in his strength and manly beauty!”
“Dear Miss Wallace, compose yourself, I do entreat of you--no one will
cling to Guert longer than I.”
“Yes; I have always thought this--always _felt_ this. Guert cannot be
low, or mean in his sentiments, while an educated gentleman, like Corny
Littlepage, is his friend. I have written to my aunt, and we must not be
too hasty in our judgments. The spirit and follies of youth will soon be
over, and then we shall see a shining character in Guert Ten Eyck. Is not
this true, Anneke?”
Anneke knelt at the side of her friend, folded her in her arms, drew the
quivering head down upon her own sympathising bosom, and held it there a
moment, in the very attitude of protecting, solacing love. After a brief
pause, Mary Wallace burst into tears, and I have ever thought that that
relief, under God's mercy, saved her reason. In a few minutes, the sufferer
became more calm, when she retired into herself, as was her wont, leaving
Anneke and me to discuss the subject.
After turning all the chances and probabilities in our minds, I promised my
companions not to lose a moment, but to use immediate means of ascertaining
all that could be ascertained, in Guert's behalf, and of doing everything
that could be done, to save him.
“You will not deceive me, Corny,” whispered Mary Wallace, pressing my hand
at leave-taking, in both her own. “I know I can depend on _you_, for he
_boasts_ of being your friend.”
Anneke's painful smile added force to this request, and I tore myself away
unwilling to quit such a sufferer, yet unable to remain. Herman Mordaunt
was seen conversing with Susquesus, in the court, and I joined him at once,
determined to lose no time.
“I was speaking to the Trackless on this very subject,” answered Herman
Mordaunt, as soon as I had explained my purpose, “and am now waiting for
his answer. Do you think it, then, safe to send a messenger out to the
Hurons, in order to inquire after our friends, and to treat with them!”
“No send?--Why not?” returned the Indian. “Red man glad to see messenger.
Go when he want; come back when he want. How can make bargain, if scalp
messenger?”
I had heard that the most savage tribes respected a messenger; and, indeed,
the necessity of so doing was, of itself, a sort of security that such
must be the case. It was true, that the bearer of a flag might be in more
danger, on such an errand, than would be the case in a camp of civilized
men; but these Canada-Indians had been long serving with the French, and
their chiefs, beyond a question, had obtained some of the notions of
pale-face warfare. Without much reflection, therefore, and under an impulse
in behalf of my friend, and my slave--for Jaap's fate was of lively
interest with me--I volunteered to bear a flag myself. Herman Mordaunt
shook his head, and seemed reluctant to comply.
“Anneke would hardly pardon me for consenting to that,” he answered. “You
must remember, now, Corny, that a very tender and sensitive heart is bound
up in you, and you must no longer act like a thoughtless, single man. It
would be far better to send this Onondago, if he will agree to go. He
understands the red men, and will be able to interpret the omens with more
certainty, than any of us, What say you, Susquesus; will you be a messenger
to the Hurons?”
“Sartain;--why no go, if he want? Good to be messenger, sometime. Where
wampum--what tell him?”
Thus encouraged, we deliberated together, and soon had Susquesus in
readiness to depart. As for the Indian, he laid aside all his arms, washed
the war-paint from his face, put a calico shirt over his shoulders, and
assumed the guise of peace. We gave him a small, white flag to carry,
feeling certain that the Huron chiefs must understand its meaning; and
thinking it might be better, in bearing a message from pale-faces, that
he who carried it should have a pale-face symbol of his errand. Susquesus
found some wampum, too; having as much faith in that, probably, as in
anything else. He then set forth, being charged to offer liberal ransom to
the Hurons, for the living, uninjured bodies of Guert Ten Eyck and Jaap
Satanstoe.
We entertained no doubt that the enemy would be found in the ravine, for
that was the point, in every respect, most favourable to the operations of
the siege; being near the house, having a perfect cover, possessing water,
wood, and other conveniences. From that point the Nest could be watched,
and any favourable chance improved. Thither, then, Susquesus was told to
proceed; though it was not thought advisable to fetter one so shrewd, with
too many instructions. Several of us accompanied the Onondago to the gate,
and saw him moving across the fields, towards the wood, in his usual loping
trot. A bird could scarcely have flown more directly to its object.
The half-hour that succeeded the disappearance of Susquesus, in the mouth
of the ravine, was one of intensely painful suspense. We all remained
without the gate, waiting the result, including Dirck, Mr. Worden, Jason,
and half-a-dozen of the settlers. At length the Onondago reappeared; and,
to our great joy, a group followed him, in which were both the prisoners.
The last were bound, but able to walk. This party might have contained a
dozen of the enemy, all of whom were armed. It moved slowly out of the
ravine, and ascended to the fields that were on a level with the house,
halting when about four hundred yards from us. Seeing this movement, we
counted out exactly the same number of men, and went forward, halting at
a distance of two hundred yards from the Indians. Here we waited for our
messenger, who continued on, after the Hurons had come to a stand. Thus far
everything looked propitious.
“Do you bring us good news?” Herman Mordaunt eagerly asked. “Are our
friends unhurt?”
“Got scalp--no hurt--take prisoner--jump on 'em, ten, two, six--cotch 'em,
then. Open eyes; you see.”
“And the Hurons--do they seem inclined to accept the ransom? Rum, rifle,
blanket and powder; you offered all, I hope, Susquesus?”
“Sartain. No forget; that bad. Say take all that; some more, too.”
“And they have come to treat with us? What are we to do, now, Susquesus?”
“Put down rifle--go near and talk. You go--priest go--young chief go--that
t'ree. Then t'ree warrior lay down rifle, come talk, too. Prisoner wait.
All good.”
This was sufficiently intelligible, and believing that anything like
hesitation might make the condition of Guert desperate, we prepared to
comply. I could see that the Rev. Mr. Worden had no great relish for
the business, but was ashamed to hang back when he saw Herman Mordaunt
cheerfully advancing to the interview. We three were met by as many Hurons,
among whom was Jaap's friend 'Muss,' who was evidently the leading person
of the party. Guert and Jaap were held, bound, about a hundred yards in the
rear, but near enough to be spoken to, by raising the voice. Guert was
in his shirt and breeches, with his head uncovered, his fine curly hair
blowing about in the wind, and I thought I saw some signs of blood on his
linen. This might be his own, or it might have come from an enemy. I called
to him, therefore, inquiring how he did, and whether he were hurt.
“Nothing to speak of, Corny, I thank you,” was the cheerful answer; “these
red gentlemen have had me tied to a tree, and have been seeing how near
they could hurl their tomahawks without hitting. This is one of their
customary amusements, and I have got a scratch or two in the sport. I hope
the ladies are in good spirits, and do not let the business of last night
distress them.”
“There is blessed news for you, Guert--Susquesus, ask these chiefs if I may
go near my friend to give him one word of consolation--on my honour, no
attempt to release him will be made by me, until I return here.”
I spoke earnestly, and the Onondago interpreted what I had said into the
language of the Hurons. I had made this somewhat hardy request, under an
impulse that I found ungovernable, and was surprised, as well as pleased,
to find it granted. These savages confided in my word, and trusted to my
honour with a stately delicacy that might have done credit to the manners
of civilized kings, giving themselves no apparent concern about my
movements, although they occurred in their own rear. It was too late to
retract, and, leaving Herman Mordaunt endeavouring to drive a bargain
with Muss and his two companions, I proceeded, unconcerned myself, boldly
towards the armed men who held Guert and Jaap prisoners. I thought my
approach _did_ cause a slight movement among these savages, and there was a
question and answer passed between them and their leaders. The latter said
but a word or two, but these were uttered authoritatively, and with a
commanding toss of a hand. Brief as they were, they answered the purpose,
and I was neither molested nor spoken to, during the short interview I had
with my friend.
“God bless you, Corny, for this!” Guert cried with feeling, as I warmly
shook his hand. “It requires a warm heart, and a bold one too, to lead a
man into this 'lion's den.' Stay but a moment, lest some evil come of it,
I beg of you. This squeeze of the hand is worth an estate to a man in my
situation; but remember Anneke. Ah! Corny, my dear friend, I could be happy
even here, did I know that Mary Wallace grieved for me!”
“Then be happy, Guert. My sole object in venturing here, was to tell you to
hope everything in that quarter. There will be no longer any coyness, any
hesitation, any misgivings, when you shall be once restored to us.”
“Mr. Littlepage, you would not trifle with the feelings of a miserable
captive, hanging between torture and death, is my present case! I can
hardly credit my senses; yet, you would not mock me!”
“Believe all I say--nay, all you _wish_, Guert. It is seldom that woman
loves as _she_ loves, and this I swear to you. I go now, only to aid Herman
Mordaunt in bringing you where your own ears shall hear such proofs of what
I say, as have been uttered in mine.”
Guert made no answer, but I could see he was profoundly affected. I
squeezed his hand, and we parted, in the full hope, on my side at least,
that the separation would be short. I have reason to think Guert shed
tears; for, on looking back, I perceived his face turned away from those
who were nearest to him. I had but a single glance at Jaap. My fellow stood
a little in the rear, as became his colour; but he watched my countenance
with the vigilance of a cat. I thought it best not to speak to him, though
I gave him a secret sign of encouragement.
“These chiefs are not very amicably disposed, Corny,” said Herman Mordaunt,
the instant I rejoined him. “They have given me to understand that Jaap
will be liberated on no terms whatever. They must have his scalp, as
Susquesus tells me, on account of some severity he himself has shown to one
of these chiefs. To use their own language, they want it for a plaster to
this warrior's back. His fate, it would seem, is sealed, and he has only
been brought out yonder, to raise hopes in him that are to be disappointed.
The wretches do not scruple to avow this, in their own sententious manner.
As for Guert, they say he slew two of their warriors, and that their wives
will miss their husbands, and will not be easily quieted unless they see
his scalp, too. They offer to release him, however, on either of two sets
of terms. They will give up Guert for two of what they call chiefs, or for
four common men. If we do not like those conditions, they will exchange
him, on condition we give two common men for him, and abandon the Nest to
them, by marching out, with all my people, before the sun is up above our
heads.”
“Conditions that you cannot accept, under any circumstances, I fear, sir?”
“Certainly not. The delivery of any two is out of the question--would be
so, even to save my own life. As for the Nest and its contents, I would
very willingly abandon all, a few papers excepted, had I the smallest faith
in the chiefs' being able to restrain their followers; but the dreadful
massacre of William-Henry is still too recent, to confide in anything of
the sort. My answer is given already, and we are about to part. Possibly,
when they see us determined, they may lower their demands a little.”
A grave parting wave of the hand was given by Muss, who had conducted
himself with great dignity in the interview, and the three Hurons walked
away in a body.
“Best go,” said Susquesus, significantly. “Maybe want rifle. Hurons in
'arnest.”
On this hint, we returned to our friends, and resumed our arms. What
succeeded, I learned in part by the relations of others, while a part was
witnessed by my own eyes. It seems that Jaap, from the first, understood
the desperate nature of his own position. The remembrance of his mis-deeds
in relation to Muss, whose prisoner he had more especially become, most
probably increased his apprehensions, and his thoughts were constantly bent
on obtaining his liberty, by means entirely independent of negotiation.
From the instant he was brought out of the ravine, he kept all his eyes
about him, watching for the smallest chance of effecting his purpose. It
happened that one of the savages so placed himself before the negro, who
was kept behind all near him, as to enable Jaap to draw the Huron's knife
from its sheath without being detected: He did this while I was actually
with the party, and all eyes were on me. Guert and himself were bound, by
having their arms fastened above the elbows, behind the back; and when
Guert turned aside to shed tears, as mentioned, Jaap succeeded in cutting
his fastenings. This could be done, only while the savages were following
my retreating form with their eyes. At the same time Jaap gave the knife
to Guert, who did him a similar service. As the Indians did not take the
alarm, the prisoners paused a moment, holding their arms as if still bound,
to look around them. The Indian nearest Guert had two rifles, his own and
that of Muss, both leaning negligently against his shoulder, with their
breeches on the ground. To these weapons Guert pointed; and, when the three
chiefs were on the point of rejoining their friends, who were attentive to
their movements in order to ascertain the result, Guert seized this savage
by his arm, which he twisted until the Indian yelled with pain, then caught
one rifle, while Jaap laid hold of the other. Each fired and brought down
his man; then they made an onset with the butts of their pieces on the rest
of the party. This bold assault, though so desperate in appearance, was
the wisest thing they could do; as immediate flight would have left their
enemies an opportunity of sending the swift runners of their pieces in
pursuit.
The first intimation we had of any movement of this sort was in the reports
of the rifles. Then, I not only saw, but I heard the tremendous blow Jaap
gave to the head of Muss; a blow that demolished both the victim and the
instrument of his destruction. Though the breech of the rifle was broken,
the heavy barrel still remained, and the negro flourished it with a force
that swept all before him. It is scarcely necessary to say Guert was not
idle in such a fray. He fought for Mary Wallace, as well as for himself,
and he overturned two more of the Indians, as it might be, in the twinkling
of an eye. Here Dirck did good service to our friends. His rifle was in his
hands, and, levelling it with coolness, he shot down a powerful savage who
was on the point of seizing Guert from behind. This was the commencement of
a general war, volleys now coming from both parties; from ourselves, and
from the enemy, who were in the cover of the woods. Intimidated by the fury
of the personal assault under which they were suffering, the remaining
Indians near Guert and the negro leaped away towards their friends,
yelling; leaving their late prisoners free, but more exposed to fire than
they could have been when encircled even by enemies.
Everything passed with fearful rapidity. Guert seized the rifle of a fallen
Indian, and Jaap obtained another, when they fell back towards us, like two
lions at bay, with rifle-bullets whizzing around them at every step. Of
course, we fired, and we also advanced to meet them; an imprudent step,
since the main body of the Hurons were covered, rendering the contest
unequal. But, there was no resisting the sympathetic impulses of such a
moment, or the exultation we all felt at the exploits of Guert and Jaap,
enacted, as they were, before our eyes. As we drew together, the former
shouted and cried--
“Hurrah! Corny, my noble fellow--let us charge the woot--there'll not be a
reat-skin left in it, in five minutes. Forwart, my friends--forwart, all!”
It certainly was an exciting moment. We all shouted in our turns, and
all cried 'forward,' in common. Even Mr. Worden joined in the shout, and
pressed forward. Jason, too, fought bravely; and we went at the wood like
so many bull-dogs. I fancy the pedagogue thought the fee-simple of his
mills depended on the result. On we went, in open order, reserving our fire
for the last moment, but receiving dropping shots, that did us no harm,
until we dashed into the thicket.
The Hurons were discomfited, and they fled. Though a panic is not usual
among those wild warriors, they seldom rally on the field. If once driven,
against their will, a close pursuit will usually disperse them for a time;
and such was the case now. By the time I got fairly into the ravine, I
could see or hear of no enemy. My friends were on my right and left,
shouting and pressing on; but there was no foe visible. Guert and Jaap were
in advance, for we could not overtake them; and they had fired, for they
got the last glimpses of the enemy. But one more shot did come from the
Hurons in that inroad. It was fired from some one of the retreating party,
who must have been lingering in its rear. The report sounded far up the
ravine, and it came like a farewell and final gun. Distant as it was,
however, it proved the most fatal shot to us that was fired in all that
affair. I caught a glimpse of Guert, through the trees, and saw him fall.
In an instant, I was at his side.
What a change is that from the triumph of victory to the sudden approach of
death! I saw by the expression of Guert's countenance, as I raised him in
my arms, that the blow was fatal. The ball, indeed, had passed directly
through his body, missing the bones, but injuring the vitals. There is no
mistaking the expression of a death-wound on the human countenance, when
the effect is direct and not remote. Nature appears to admonish the victim
of his fate. So it was with Guert.
“This shot has done for me, Corny,” he said, “and it seems to be the very
last they intended to fire. I almost hope there can be no truth in what you
told me of Mary Wallace!”
That was neither the time nor the place to speak on such a subject, and
I made no answer. From the instant the fall of Guert became known, the
pursuit ceased, and our whole party collected around the wounded man.
The Indian alone seemed to retain any consciousness of the importance
of knowing what the enemy was doing, for his philosophy was not easily
disturbed by the sudden appearance of death among us. Still he liked
Guert, as did every one who could get beyond the weaknesses of his outer
character, and fairly at the noble traits of his manly nature. Susquesus
looked at the sufferer a moment, gravely and not without concern; then he
turned to Herman Mordaunt, and said--
“This bad--save scalp, that good, though. Carry him in house. Susquesus
follow trail and see what Injin mean.”
As this was well, he was told to watch the enemy, while we bore our friend
towards the Nest. Dirck consented to precede us, and let the melancholy
truth be known, while I continued with Guert, who held my hand the whole
distance. We were a most melancholy procession, for victors. Not a serious
hurt had any of our party received, in this last affair, the wound of Guert
Ten Eyck excepted; yet, I question if more real sorrow would have been felt
over two or three other deaths. We had become accustomed to our situation;
it is wonderful how soon the soldier does; rendering death familiar, and
disarming him of half his terrors; but calamities can, and do occur, to
bring back an army to a sense of its true nature and its dependence on
Providence. Such had been the effect of the loss of Lord Howe, on the
troops before Ticonderoga, and such was the effect of the fall of Guert Ten
Eyck, on the small band that was collected to defend the possessions and
firesides of Ravensnest.
We entered the gate of the house, and found most of its tenants already
in the court, collected like a congregation in a church that awaits the
entrance of the dead. Herman Mordaunt had sent an order to have his own
room prepared for the sufferer, and thither we carried Guert. He was placed
on the bed; then the crowd silently withdrew. I observed that Guert's eyes
turned anxiously and inquiringly around, and I told him, in a low voice, I
would go for the ladies myself. A smile, and a pressure of the hand, showed
how well I had interpreted his thoughts.
Somewhat to my surprise, I found Mary Wallace, pale it is true, but
comparatively calm and mistress of herself. That instinct of propriety
which seems to form a part of the nature of a well-educated woman, had
taught her the necessity of self-command, that no outbreak of her feelings
should affect the sufferer. As for Anneke, she was like herself, gentle,
mourning, and full of sympathy for her friend.
As soon as apprised of the object of my visit, the two girls expressed
their readiness to go to Guert. As they knew the way, I did not attend
them, purposely proceeding an another direction, in order not to be a
witness of the interview. Anneke has since told me, however, that Mary's
self-command did not altogether desert her, while Guert's cheerful
gratitude probably so far deceived her as to create a short-lived hope that
the wound was not mortal. For myself, I passed an hour in attending to the
state of things in and around the house, in order to make certain that no
negligence occurred still to endanger our security. At the end of that
time, I returned to Guert, meeting Herman Mordaunt near the door of his
room.
“The little hope we had is vanished,” said the last, in a sorrowful tone.
“Poor Ten Eyck has, beyond a question, received his death-wound, and
has but a few hours to live. Were my people safe, I would rather that
everything at Ravensnest, house and estate, were destroyed, than had this
happen!”
Prepared by this announcement, I was not as much surprised as I might
otherwise have been, at the great change that had occurred in my friend,
since the time I quitted his room. It was evident he anticipated the
result. Nevertheless he was calm; nay, apparently happy. Nor was he so much
enfeebled as to prevent his speaking quite distinctly, and with sufficient
ease. When the machine of life is stopped by the sudden disruption of
a vital ligament, the approaches of death, though more rapid than with
disease, are seldom so apparent. The first evidences of a fatal termination
are discovered rather through the nature of the violence, than by means of
apparent effects.
I have said that Guert seemed even happy, though death was so near. Anneke
told me, subsequently, that Mary Wallace had owned her love, in answer to
an earnest appeal on his part, and, from that moment, he had expressed
himself as one who was about to die contented. Poor Guert! It was little he
thought of the dread future, or of the church on earth, except as the last
was entitled to, and did receive on all occasions, his outward respect.
It seemed that Mary Wallace, habitually so reserved and silent among her
friends, had been accustomed to converse freely with Guert, and that she
had made a serious effort, during her residence in Albany, to enlighten his
mind, or rather to arouse his feelings on this all-important subject, and
that Guert, sensible of the pleasure of receiving instruction from such
a source, always listened with attention. When I entered the room, some
allusion had just been made to this theme.
“But for you, Mary, I should be little better than a heathen,” said Guert,
holding the hand of his beloved, and scarce averting his eyes from their
idol a single instant. “If God has mercy on me, it will be on your
account.”
“Oh! no--no--no--Guert, say not, think not _thus!_” exclaimed Mary Wallace,
shocked at this excess of his attachment even for herself at such a moment.
“We all receive our pardons through the death and mediation of his Blessed
Son. Nothing else can save you, or any of us, my dear, dear Guert; and I
implore you not to think otherwise.”
Guert looked a little bewildered; still he looked pleased. The first
expression was probably produced by his not exactly comprehending the
nature of that mysterious expiation, which baffles the unaided powers of
man, and which, indeed, is to be felt, rather than understood. The look of
pleasure had its origin in the 'dear, dear Guert,' and, more than that, in
the consciousness of possessing the affections of the woman he had so long
loved, almost against hope. Guert Ten Eyck was a man of bold and reckless
character, in all that pertained to risks, frolic, and youthful adventure;
but the meekest Christian could scarcely possess a more lowly opinion of
his own frailties and sins, than this dashing young fellow possessed of his
own claims to be valued by such a being as Mary Wallace. I often wondered
how he ever presumed to love her, but suppose the apparent vanity must
be ascribed to the resistless power of a passion that is known to be the
strongest of our nature. It was also a sort of moral anomaly that two
so opposed to each other in character; the one verging on extreme
recklessness, the other pushing prudence almost to prudery; the one so gay
as to seem to live for frolic, the other quiet and reserved should conceive
this strong predilection for each other; but so it was. I have heard
persons say, however, that these varieties in temperament awaken interest,
and that they who have commenced with such dissimilarities, but have
assimilated by communion, attachment, and habits, after all, make the
happiest couples.
Mary Wallace lost all her reserve, in the gush of tenderness and sympathy,
that now swept all before it. Throughout the whole of that morning, she
hung about Guert, as the mother watches the ailing infant. If his thirst
was to be assuaged, her hand held the cup; if his pillow was to be
replaced, her care suggested the alteration; if his brow was to be wiped,
she performed that office for him, suffering no other to come between her
and the object of her solicitude.
There were moments when the manner in which Mary Wallace hung over Guert,
was infinitely touching. Anneke and I knew that her very soul yearned to
lead his thoughts to dwell on the subject of the great change that was so
near. Nevertheless, the tenderness of the woman was so much stronger
than even the anxiety of the Christian, that we perceived she feared
the influence on his wound. At length, happily for an anxiety that was
beginning to be too painful for endurance, Guert spoke on the subject,
himself. Whether his mind adverted naturally to such a topic, or he
perceived the solicitude of his gentle nurse, I could not say.
“I cannot stay with you long, Mary,” he said, “and I should like to have
Mr. Worden's prayers, united to yours, offered up in my behalf. Corny will
seek the Dominie, for an old friend?”
I vanished from the room, and was absent ten minutes. At the end of that
time, Mr. Worden was ready in his surplice, and we went to the sick room.
Certainly, our old pastor had not the way of manifesting the influence of
religion, that is usual to the colonies, especially to those of the more
northern and eastern portion of the country; yet, there was a heartiness
in his manner of praying, at times, that almost persuaded me he was a good
man. I will own, however, that Mr. Worden was one of those clergymen who
could pray much more sincerely for certain persons, than for others. He
was partial to poor Guert; and I really thought this was manifest in his
accents, on this melancholy occasion.
The dying man was relieved by this attention to the rites of the church.
Guert was not a metaphysician; and, at no period of his life, I believe,
did he ever enter very closely into the consideration of those fearful
questions which were connected with his existence, origin, destination,
and position, in the long scale of animated beings. He had those general
notions on these subjects, that all civilized men imbibe by education and
communion with their fellows, but nothing more. He understood it was a duty
to pray; and I make no doubt he fancied there were times and seasons in
which this duty was more imperative than at others; and times and seasons
when it might be dispensed with.
How tenderly and how anxiously did Mary Wallace watch over her patient,
during the whole of that sad day! She seemed to know neither weariness nor
fatigue. Towards evening, it was just as the sun was tinging the summits of
the trees with its parting light, she came towards Anneke and myself,
with a face that was slightly illuminated with something like a glow of
pleasure, and whispered to us, that Guert was better. Within ten minutes
of that moment, I approached the bed, and saw a slight movement of the
patient's hand, as if he desired me to come nearer.
“Corny,” said Guert, in a low, languid voice--“it is nearly all over. I
wish I could see Mary Wallace, once more, before I die!”
Mary was not, _could_ not be distant. She fell upon her knees, and clasped
the yielding form of her lover to her heart. Nothing was said on either
side; or, if aught were said, it was whispered, and was of a nature too
sacred to be communicated to others. In that attitude did this young woman,
long so coy and so difficult to decide, remain for near an hour, and in
that quiet, cherishing, womanly embrace, did Guert Ten Eyck breathe his
last.
I left the sufferer as much alone with the woman of his heart, as comported
with prudence and a proper attention on my part; but it was my melancholy
duty to close his eyes. Thus prematurely terminated the earthly career of
as manly a spirit as ever dwelt in human form. That it had imperfections,
my pen has not concealed; but the long years that have since passed away,
have not served to obliterate the regard so noble a temperament could not
fail to awaken.