'It shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while
they are yet speaking, I will hear.' ISA. lxv, 24.
Mooanam awoke from his sleep soon after the dawn of day appeared. He
looked up at the open window, and a strange feeling of awe came over
his soul, as he beheld the rain falling gently and steadily from the
dull grey sky. He sprang to his feet, and hurried into the next
apartment, where he found the President and his family already
assembled, and gazing at the descending shower in silent admiration.
The Sachem caught the hands of Bradford in both his own; and while a
tear of deep emotion glistened in his dark eye he exclaimed--
'Now I see that your God loves you. When the red men ask for rain, and
use their conjuring arts to induce the Great Spirit to hear their wild
cries, he gives it, it is true; but he gives it with hail and thunder,
which makes the evil still greater. Your rain is of the right kind; it
will restore the drooping corn. Now we see that your God hears you, and
cares for you.'
The same impression, to a certain degree, was made on all the Indians,
who were taught to regard this seasonable rain as the settlers
themselves regarded it--as a special interposition of Providence for
their relief. And were they wrong in thus looking upon it as an answer
to their prayers, from a prayer-hearing God? And was it vain
superstition that led them to rejoice as much in this proof of the
goodness and benevolence of the God whom they served, and of His
guiding and protecting hand being outstretched for their succor, as in
the prospect of coming plenty that was thus afforded to them? Surely
not. Their faith, and love, and confidence in God were all animated and
strengthened by their conviction that the relief thus seasonably
received came directly from Him who has promised in his faithful Word,
that _‘all things,’_ whether joyous or grievous, 'shall work together
for good to them that love Him; to them that are called according to
His purpose.’
So deeply was Hobomak, the Wampanoge interpreter, impressed by this
instance of the pious trust of his white friends in the providence of
their God, and of the protection they enjoyed under His guidance and
government, that he gave himself up to a serious consideration of their
religion and so sincere was his desire for spiritual knowledge, and so
humble and teachable did he show himself, that, after a time, he was
judged fit to be admitted into the pale of the Christian church. He was
baptized as the first fruits of the settlers' efforts to evangelize the
heathen among whom they had cast their lot: and he lived a firm friend
of the white men, and died, after residing many years among them,
'leaving a good-hope that his soul went to rest.’
The welcome rain continued to fall for several hours without
intermission, on the morning that succeeded the Pilgrim's day of prayer
and humiliation; and Mooanam sent his young men home to fish in the
lake, while he remained with his white friends, intending to follow
them in the afternoon, with a party of the settlers, to share their
sport. As the day advanced, the clouds broke, and warm sunshine,
interrupted by frequent refreshing showers, succeeded to the settled
rain of the morning. So favorable, altogether, was the change, that
Winslow gratefully remarks: 'It is difficult to say whether our
withered corn, or our depressed spirits, were most refreshed and
quickened. So great was the benevolence and goodness of our God!'
The Pilgrims had prayed for rain; and when their prayers were granted,
they did not neglect the equally incumbent Christian duty of
thanksgiving. Again the congregation ascended 'the Burying Hill'; and
again their united voices rose to heaven in prayers and songs of
praise. Mooanam formed one of the assembly; and he listened with deep
and reverent attention to the devotions of his friends, frequently
applying to Hobomak, who stood at his side, to explain to him the words
and sentences that he did not comprehend.
The service concluded, and the women and children were descending the
hill by the path that led to the village, leaving the Governor and his
council to discuss some public business, and the other men to arrange
themselves as usual into companies, for the manning of their
fortification and other necessary employments. Just at that moment a
native, attired in the costume and equipments of a Narragansett, was
seen to approach the foot of the hill, bearing a bundle of strange
appearance in his hands. With a quick and decided step he mounted the
height, and glanced fiercely at the females and their children, whom he
passed in the winding path, and who all involuntarily shrank from the
gaze of his piercing and singularly expressive eye. In the breast of
Janet that glance struck a chill of horror; for she had once before
encountered it, and never could she forget or mistake it again. It
seemed that Fingal recognized it also, and knew the evil that it
foreboded. He was bounding down the hill by Edith's side, and, with
expressive looks and actions, inviting the pensive child to join in his
gambols, when the savage approached. Instantly he paused, and took his
stand close to his young mistress, as if to guard her from some
apprehended danger; and, as the red warrior passed, and bent his eye on
Edith, the sagacious creature uttered a low deep growl, and seemed
ready to spring at his throat, if the hand and voice of his young
companion had not restrained him. Fingal was a noble specimen of the
St. Bernard breed of dogs, whose sagacity is such as frequently to
appear like human reason, and his intelligence was not inferior to that
of the best of his race. In this instance it did not mislead him.
The dark warrior strode on without one sign of courtesy, and paused not
until he had entered the group of elders and councilors who stood
around the President, prepared to attend him to the public hall. The
white men made way for him to approach the Governor; and, as he did so,
his keen eye met that of Rodolph Maitland, and instantly kindled with a
deeper fire, and gleamed with an expression of almost diabolical
vengeance, which was seen by Rodolph, and understood by him for he,
too, could not fail to recognize in the Narragansett warrior that same
Coubitant who had fought so well at 'the first encounter,' and who had
afterwards attended the Nausett Chief, Tisquantum, when he and his
people were repulsed in their attack on New Plymouth. It was evident
to Maitland that this savage entertained towards him and his race a
peculiar sentiment of hatred; but the cause of this feeling was unknown
to him.
The idea, however, that Henrich's loss was in some way connected with
this man--or that he could give him some information respecting the
nature of his son's death, and the place where his remains had been
deposited--came forcibly to his mind; and, regardless of the cold
malignant gaze that Coubitant fixed on him, he hastily approached him,
and exclaimed in the Indian tongue--'Surely you are the Nausett warrior
whom I saw with the Sachem of that tribe. If so, you can tell me the
fate of my son--the boy who was carried off, and, I fear, cruelly slain
when Tisquantum and his people retired from these woods. O, tell me how
my boy was murdered, and where his dear remains were laid!’
Rodolph's fine countenance was lighted up with eager animation. A tear
of fond regret and affection glistened in his eye, and he could have
grasped the hand of the swarthy savage, and almost have blessed him, if
he would have told him that his darling Henrich had died by a single
blow, and that his body had been laid unmolested to rest. But Coubitant
drew back, and with a smile of fierce mockery and infernal triumph,
replied briefly--
'Ha! you found his bloody coat then. May your heart's blood soon flow
forth as his did; and may my eyes see your body equally mangled and
defaced!'
At the same moment, he placed the bundle that he carried on the ground
before the President, saying, 'This comes from the Chief of the
Narragansetts!' and, turning away, hastily descended the hill, and was
lost to view among the trees of the skirting wood, before the council
had time to resolve on the course they should pursue respecting his
detention, or Rodolph had recovered the shock that his cruel words had
inflicted.
The curiosity of the Governor and his friends was now directed to the
strange-looking package that lay on the ground. On examination, they
found the envelope to be composed of a dried snakeskin, which was
quickly opened, and disclosed several Indian arrows. Squanto gazed on
these with a significant look; and on being questioned by Bradford as
to the meaning of so singular an offering, he informed him that it was
the native mode of declaring war.
The well-known enmity of the Narragansetts towards the Wampanoges--the
friends and allies of the settlers--rendered this hostile declaration
no surprise to the Governor and his council. But the fact of its being
conveyed by Coubitant, who had so lately, in the character of a
subordinate Narragansett chieftain, subscribed the written
acknowledgement of King James's supremacy, excited no small
astonishment. It was a source, also, of regret, as it proved how little
dependence could be placed in the professions of the natives. To enter
on a war with the numerous and powerful tribe of the Narragansetts, was
likewise far from being desirable in any point of view; for the
Pilgrims were little prepared either to meet such formidable
antagonist's in the field, or to resist the continual attacks and
aggression's that constitute the greatest share of Indian warfare.
A consultation was therefore held as to the best method of replying to
the challenge of the Narragansett Sachem; and it was finally determined
that the most prudent and effectual course would be to show a resolute
appearance, and give no cause to the native's to suppose that they
dreaded their enmity. A bold acceptance of the challenge might, it was
urged both by Squanto and Hobomak, strike terror into the savages, and
deter them from prosecuting their present hostile intentions.
Bradford, therefore, adopted the Indian method of communicating this
reply by expressive signs; and, taking the arrows--which appeared to be
poisoned--from the snakeskin, he placed some gunpowder and balls in the
significant wrapper. He then inquired who among his trusty warrior's
would volunteer to take the packet to the dwelling of Cundincus,[*] the
Chief of the Narragansetts. Several offered their services; and, among
those, none was so eager to be employed as Rodolph Maitland. He felt an
earnest desire to see and speak with Coubitant once more: and no fear
of the personal risk that he might incur in the expedition could deter
him from thus making another attempt to obtain some certain information
respecting his lost son.
[Footnote: Afterwards called by the settlers, ‘Canonicus.’]
Had the President known how much reason there was to fear that
treachery might be exercised towards Maitland, he would surely not have
suffered him thus to risk his valuable life. Rut he was ignorant of all
the peculiar circumstances that had occurred to show that he was a
special mark for the vengeance of Coubitant: and the confidence he felt
in his courage and ability led him--on this occasion, as on many
others--to select him as his ambassador. Two companions were assigned
to him, and Squanto was desired to attend the party as interpreter.
When Helen heard that her husband was appointed to convey a reply to
the war-like message of the dark savage whom she had met on the hill,
and whose aspect had filled her with terror, she felt an involuntary
dread; and gladly would she have dissuaded him from accepting the
office of ambassador--which she knew not he had so earnestly
solicited--had she not been well aware that all such attempts would be
useless. Rodolph was not a man to shrink from any service that was
required of him for the public good; and least of all from any service
that involved danger and difficulty. He, however, concealed from his
anxious wife the fact that he had recognized in the Narragansett
messenger a deadly and determined foe, knowing how greatly--and perhaps
how justly--her fears would be increased, if she suspected that the
Indian champion was one of those who had planned and executed the
capture of her eldest son.
But Janet had, as we have seen, remembered the swarthy savage, and the
scene with which his countenance was associated in her mind; and when
she had an opportunity of speaking to her master in private, she
implored him to resign the embassy into other hands, and not thus
rashly to encounter a foe, whose public conduct had proved him to be
unworthy of confidence, and whose expression of countenance betokened
both cruelty and treachery. But all her arguments were unavailing.
Maitland had undertaken the charge of the expedition at his own
request; and he would have felt himself dishonored in now declining it
from any personal motives, even had he been, in the least degree,
inclined to do so. On the contrary, his spirit was roused and excited
by the very perils he was conscious he might have to encounter; and his
desire to obtain, and convey to Helen, some intelligence of Henrich--
even if that intelligence should still for ever the doubts end hopes,
that, in spite of every past circumstance, would sometimes arise in his
own heart, and that of his own wife--was so great that nothing could
have turned him from his purpose. He, therefore, desired the faithful
Janet to preserve the same silence on the subject of Coubitant that she
had already so judiciously adopted towards her mistress; and assured
her that he would neglect no precaution that might preserve him from
the treacherous intentions of the Indian, should any such be actually
entertained by him.
The next morning Rodolph started at break of day, to convey the reply
of the Governor to the Narragansett Sachem, whose tribe inhabited the
district now called Rhode Island, lying to the south-west of New
Plymouth. He was accompanied by two friends, and likewise by the
interpreter, Squanto. His faithful dog, Fingal, also showed such a
strong desire to follow his master, that, although it was Maitland's
usual custom to leave him at home as a guard, during any of his
occasional absences, when his services in hunting were not required, he
could not, in this instance, resist his eager pleadings. Helen, also,
assured him that she should feel no apprehension at being deprived of
her usual protector, as no danger was likely to menace her dwelling;
and the increase in the population of the village, from the arrival of
the new settlers, had added an inmate to the family, in the person of
Claude Felton, a stout young laboring man, who had become the useful
assistant of Maitland in his agricultural occupations, and proved a
good and faithful servant.
To his protection and watchful care Rodolph Maitland committed his
little family; and, taking a cheerful farewell of his wife and Edith,
he commenced his journey through the wild and almost trackless woods.
Guided by Squanto, the party reached the village of Cundineus, and were
received into the presence of the Sachem and his nephew Miantonomo, who
shared with him the cares and the dignity of his chieftainship.
With the assistance of the interpreter, Rodolph informed the Chiefs
that he was the bearer of the reply of the mighty strangers to the bold
challenge that had been sent to them on the part of Cundineus and
Miantonomo; and he invited them to open the packet which he laid before
them, in order that they might fully understand the nature of that
reply, and judge whether the subjects of the powerful king of Great
Britain were terrified at the audacity of the red men. Probably Squanto
made some additions of his own to the harangue of the ambassador; for a
very ludicrous change of expression appeared on the countenances of the
savage Chieftains. The looks of fierce defiance with which they had
received the embassy gave way to anxious and timid glances, which they
hastily cast at the ominous snake-skin, while they involuntarily drew
back, as if they feared it would explode, and punish their rash
temerity.
Rodolph saw the effect of Squanto's version of his speech, and resolved
to increase it. He understood enough of the native tongue to perceive
that the interpreter had alluded to the potent and deadly properties of
the contents of the snake-skin, and he desired him to inform the Chiefs
that the musket which he carried in his hand contained a very small
portion of the same substance, and he would give them proof of its
power. He then glanced for a moment into the lofty trees that
surrounded the place of audience, and perceiving a monkey that was
clinging to one of the wide-spreading branches, nod chattering angrily
at the intrusive foreigners, he took a deliberate aim, and in another
instant the creature lay lifeless and motionless on the ground. The
Indians were startled at the report, and amazed at the effect of the
invisible messenger of death. They hastened to examine the dead animal
but one drop of blood issuing from its skull was the only indication
that some missile had pierced its brain; and the veneration of the
Narragansetts and their Chiefs for the prowess of the white men
evidently rose in a great degree.
But there was one among them who did not share the wonder or the awe of
the assembly. He stood silent and motionless, at a little distance from
the group, with his eyes intently fixed on Rodolph's countenance, and a
smile of malignant scorn and triumph on his own dark features. His arms
were folded across his scarred and painted breast, and his right hand
grasped the handle of a long knife that was stuck into his deerskin
belt. The action seemed to be involuntary, and without any present
purpose; for he remained in the same position, unobserved by Rodolph,
until he and his attendants had retired to the hut appointed them by
Cundineus, to rest and refresh themselves, end await the reply of the
Chief.
Rodolph then desired Squanto to make inquiries for Coubitant, and, if
possible, to bring him to the hut. But the sagacious interpreter had
seen and recognized the white man’s face; and he earnestly entreated
Maitland not to give him any opportunity of executing the vengeance
which was evidently burning at his heart, and ready to break forth in
some deed of fatal violence. Rodolph's English friends also joined so
warmly in these entreaties that he at length consented that Squanto
should seek the savage, and endeavor to draw from him all the
information that he could give respecting Henrich's death. He did so,
and a long conversation took place that evening, the result of which
was that he assured Rodolph that his son had indeed been murdered in
the wood, as he had always supposed, and that his scalp had been torn
off even before life was extinct, whilst his body had been conveyed to
the next encampment, and burned with many heathen rites, to appease the
troubled spirit of Tisquantum's son Tekoa.
The father shuddered, and turned away to hide the rising tear, as he
listened to this harrowing but false account. He, however, fully
believed it; and felt that, henceforth, it would be vain to cherish any
hope concerning his son, except that blessed hope which is the
privilege of the Christian--the sure and certain hope of meeting
hereafter, in the presence of the God and Savior in whom he had taught
his child to place his trust. He said no more; he did not even question
Squanto as to the cause of his having spent so long a time in
conferring with Coubitant, when all the information he had obtained
amounted merely to the sad assurance that his son had suffered a
dreadful death. Had he done so, the interpreter might have found it
difficult to account for his conduct, as he had professed a strong
dislike to Coubitant, and a distrust of all his motives and actions.
The fact was, that the wily savage had discovered Squanto's love of
importance, and his desire to be supposed to possess the confidence of
the white men, and by flattering his vanity, he had drawn from him all
the information he could give with respect to the strength of the
settlers, and their capability of resisting an attack of the natives.
Squanto took care to exaggerate the numbers and the power of his
employers; but still it appeared to Coubitant, that if he could once
more induce the neighboring tribes to combine and invade their
territory, there was every probability of their being utterly
exterminated and nothing short of this could satisfy the feeling of
hatred that he entertained towards the whole race of the strangers. By
way of exalting the might of the settlers in the minds of the native,
Squanto assured Coubitant that the white men kept the plague, of which
the Indians well knew the desolating effects, imprisoned in a cellar,
where they also stowed, their gunpowder, and that they could let it
loose upon their foes at their pleasure. This strange evidence was
heard also by Miantonomo, whom Coubitant called to join the conference,
as he, knew that he already hated the English; and he desired to
strengthen that feeling to the utmost, for the furtherance of his own
plans.
From Coubitant, Squanto also received some intelligence, which, in the
minds both of the superstitious interpreter and his heathen informant,
was of vital importance to the settlers, and calculated to inspire them
with dread. This was the awful fact that, a short time previous,
several of the neighboring tribes had met in the adjacent forest, and
that the Powows of the whole district had passed three days and nights
in cursing the strangers, and uttering against them the most horrible
imprecations. The effect of this diabolical proceeding, in causing the
defeat of their foes, Coubitant did not do not; and, in spite of his
veneration for the English, and his conviction that their deities were
more powerful than the Indian demons, Squanto was filled with
apprehensions on their account. He communicated the circumstance to
Rodolph, and was surprised and almost offended at the smile of
indifference and contempt with which the Christian listened to him. But
he found it impossible to make him attach any importance to what seemed
to him so serious a calamity; and, by degrees, his own fears subsided
and his mind was reassured by the arguments and the cool composure of
Maitland.
Rodolph and his companions lay down to rest for the night in the Indian
hut, across the entrance of which Squanto placed several strong boughs,
and spread a cloak of deer-skin over them. This was done ostensibly for
the purpose of keeping out the cold night wind, but really to serve as
a screen from the prying eyes of Coubitant, whose intentions he much
mistrusted, and also as an obstacle to any attempt he might possibly
make to violate the laws of honor and hospitality, by a secret attack
on the person of the ambassador. Whether the savage actually meditated
any such act of treachery, was not known; but if he approached the hut
with a murderous purpose, he was probably deterred more by the fierce
growlings of Fingal--who lay at the entrance, but scarcely slept that
night--than by the barrier of boughs and deerskin.
Several times were the party awakened by the trusty watch-dog's angry
bark; and once, when Rodolph hastened to the entrance, and drew aside
the curtain, he thought he could descry more than one retreating figure
in the uncertain darkness. The continued uneasiness of Fingal prevented
his master from again giving way to sleep until after day had dawned,
when his faithful guard became tranquil, and he likewise sought the
repose which he greatly needed before recommencing his fatiguing
journey.
Ere he set out on his homeward way, Rodolph again repaired, with
Squanto, to the presence of the Chief; to demand his message to the
British Governor; and he was informed by Cundincus, that he had already
dispatched a messenger to restore the dreaded packet, and to deprecate
the wrath of the pale-faced Chieftain. This was all the ambassador
could desire; and, taking a courteous leave of the Sachem, he and his
attendants resumed their journey without further delay.
For a considerable distance their path lay through the forest; and the
underwood was so close and thick that the road consisted of a narrow
track, scarcely wider than would admit of two persons passing one
another along it, and only calculated for travelling in 'Indian file,'
which is so much practiced by the natives. In this manner our party
proceeded, Rodolph leading the way, and his attendants following
singly; while Fingal, who seemed rejoiced to have left the village,
bounded along at his master's side, ever and anon leaping up to express
his joy by licking his face and hands.
'Down, Fingal!' said his master, kindly patting his favorite's head,
and stroking his thick shaggy mane. 'Down, my good fellow; your joy is
too boisterous for this narrow, thorny path. You shall expend your
superfluous strength and spirits on the plain yonder; for I think I
detect some game scudding across the green meadow before us.'
Rodolph paused to adjust his gun; and the sagacious dog ceased his wild
demonstrations, end paused also until the task was completed. Then as
his master rose to proceed, he once more sprang up to his shoulder, end
his intelligent eyes asked leave to dash through the covert, and drive
out the expected game.
But why did that bound of pleasure change instantaneously into a
convulsion of agony? and why did the noble creature fall by his
master's side and look so earnestly up into his face? Surely, in the
midst of his own death struggle, he sought to tell him, with that mute
eloquence of love, that danger was near. Rodolph knew that it was so;
but no danger could then have compelled him to leave his dying friend--
the friend whose life was now ebbing away as a sacrifice for his own.
Yes! the shaft that had pierced through the neck of Fingal was designed
for Rodolph's breast; and he who cast it deemed that it had found its
intended mark, when, through the bushes, he saw the white man's form
bend quickly and suddenly to the ground. Then Coubitant fled
exultingly, and his savage heart beat high with joy and triumph.
But Rodolph thought not of him, or of his malice. He only saw his
faithful dog expiring at his side, and knew that he had no power to aid
him. It was evident that the arrow was poisoned, for the wound,
otherwise, appeared too slight to be mortal; and the foam that gathered
on Fingal's jaws, and the convulsive struggle that shook his form,
showed too plainly that his sufferings would soon be over. The
companions of Rodolph urged him to join them in instant flight; for
they felt the peril of their present situation, where the surrounding
thicket gave such ample opportunity to their lurking foes to take a
deadly aim, while, at the same time, it prevented them from either
discovering or pursuing their assailants. But all their arguments, and
all their entreaties, were unavailing so long as Fingal continued to
lick his master's caressing hand, and to reply to his well-known voice,
by looks of intelligent affection.
Soon, however, his head sank powerless on Rodolph's knee, and the
bright glance of his eye faded away, and life and motion ceased. Was it
unmanly in his master to brush a tear from his eye, as he rose from the
ground, and turned away one moment from the lifeless form of his
favorite?
‘I will not leave him here,' he said. 'The savages shall not mangle his
body, as they would gladly have mangled mine. His death has saved my
life; and all that remains of him shall be carried to a place of
safety, and buried beyond the reach of those who slew him.'
'Yes,' replied Squanto readily--for he desired the removal of the dog
from that spot, for other reasons beside the gratification of
Maitland's feelings--' Yes; we will carry him away, and hide him from
Coubitant’s eyes. Doubtless he will return here, as soon as all is
quiet, to see the success of his murderous attempt; and when he finds
the path thus stained with blood, he will be satisfied, and pursue us
no further than to see whether we bury our dead companion in the
forest, or bear him to his home. We must, therefore, carry Fingal all
the way to New Plymouth, lest he should follow on our trail, and
discover that he has only slain a dog.’
Rodolph's English companions concurred in this view, and willingly lent
their aid to convey the body of Fingal from the place of his death. A
couple of poles were cut hastily, and a rude light litter was formed;
for Squanto wished that Coubitant should find traces of such
preparations, as they would help to convince him that they had thus
borne away the wounded or dead form of the ambassador.
'Now,' said he, when all was ready, 'not another moment must be lost.
Even now the keen eye of the foe may be upon us, and our stratagem may
be in vain. Two of you must bear the litter, and must carefully place
your feet in the same spot, so as to form but one track; and lead our
pursuers to believe that only three men have passed along. And there,
throw that bloody handkerchief on the path, and Coubitant will take it
as a trophy of success. ‘Stay,’ he exclaimed, as Rodolph and one of his
friends were about to raise the lifeless form of Fingal from the ground
'stay one moment, and I will completely deceive that deceiver.'
He smiled as he spoke, for he felt it a pleasure and a triumph to
outwit the wily Coubitant. Then, while the body of the dog was
supported, he carefully pressed his feet on the soft path, so as to
leave a distinct impression, and convince any who should examine the
trail that it was not the dog who had been wounded. This cunning device
he practiced again and again until they had passed through the wood,
and entered the grassy meadow, where such precautions were no longer
needed. Then the party quickened their steps, and paused not again
until they had struck deeply into the forest that succeeded to the
undulating reach of meadowland.
The way seemed long to Rodolph. He desired to reach his cherished home;
and yet he dreaded to return and sadden the heart of his little Edith
with the story of Fingal's death, and the sight of the inanimate form
of her last and much-loved playfellow. Had it not been for this
catastrophe, he would have kept from his wife and child the knowledge
of the cruel attempt that had been made on his life as such knowledge
could only distress them, and cause them needless anxiety and alarm in
future. But the death of Fingal must be accounted for; and, let the
consequence be what it might, it must be accounted for truly, and
without prevarication. Therefore it was that Rodolph dreaded meeting
those whose presence was the joy and the sunlight of his life.
He reached his home, and silently entered his blooming garden; and,
with Squanto's assistance, laid the body of Fingal, now cold and stiff,
beneath the venerable tree that shaded Edith's bower. Then he entered
his dwelling, and found its inmates busily employed at their usual
domestic occupations, and overjoyed at his sudden and unexpected
arrival. But, in spite of his own pleasure, a shade of sadness and
anxiety was on his brow, which he could not hide from the quick eye of
Helen; and she eagerly inquired the cause.
Sadly Rodolph told his story; and joy and deep gratitude for the
preservation of her beloved husband so filled and engrossed the heart
of Helen, as, for a time, to overpower every feeling of regret for the
loss of the faithful animal, who seemed to have been providentially
directed to accompany his master, and save his life at the sacrifice of
his own.
But Edith keenly felt the loss she had sustained. She was thankful--
very thankful--that her father had been restored to their home in
safety; but she did not the less deplore the death of her dear
companion: and, unable to restrain her tears, she hurried from the
house, and ran to hide her grief in her lonely bower. For some time her
parents did not perceive her absence, for they were occupied with their
own feelings of pious gratitude; but presently Rodolph remarked that
she had left the room, and remembered where he had deposited the body
of her favorite. He rose, and went towards the spot, accompanied by
Helen; and tears of sorrowful sympathy arose in the eyes of both, as
they beheld the desolate child lying on the ground by Fingal’s side,
with her arms around his neck, and her long waving hair hanging over
his inanimate face, that had never before met her gaze without an
answering look of intelligence and affection.
Gently they raised her, and spoke to her words of love and comfort; but
she long refused to be comforted. And though, at length, she became
calm and resigned, and never was heard to utter one murmur at this
fresh stroke of sorrow, yet her pensive sadness became more confirmed,
and plainly showed that she mourned for Fingal, not only as her lost
companion, but also as a connecting link between her own heart and the
memory of her lamented brother. Poor Edith! her early life was one of
trial and disappointment; but ‘it was good for her to be afflicted.'