“And dar'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall.”
--Marmion.
The commotion was just subsiding, and the inhabitants of the village had
begun to disperse from the little groups that had formed, each retiring
to his own home, and closing his door after him, with the grave air of a
man who consulted public feeling in his exterior deportment, when Oliver
Edwards, on his return from the dwelling of Mr. Grant, encountered the
young lawyer, who is known to the reader as Mr. Lippet. There was very
little similarity in the manners or opinions of the two; but as they
both belonged to the more intelligent class of a very small community,
they were, of course, known to each other, and as their meeting was at a
point where silence would have been rudeness, the following conversation
was the result of their interview:
“A fine evening, Mr. Edwards,” commenced the lawyer, whose
disinclination to the dialogue was, to say the least, very doubtful; “we
want rain sadly; that's the worst of this climate of ours, it's either
a drought or a deluge. It's likely you've been used to a more equal
temperature?”
“I am a native of this State,” returned Edwards, coldly.
“Well. I've often heard that point disputed; but it's so easy to get a
man naturalized, that it's of little consequence where he was born. I
wonder what course the Judge means to take in this business of Natty
Bumppo!”
“Of Natty Bumppo!” echoed Edwards; “to what do you allude, sir?”
“Haven't you heard!” exclaimed the other, with a look of surprise, so
naturally assumed as completely to deceive his auditor; “it may turn out
an ugly business. It seems that the old man has been out in the hills,
and has shot a buck this morning, and that, you know, is a criminal
matter in the eyes of Judge Temple.”
“Oh! he has, has he?” said Edwards, averting his face to conceal the
color that collected in his sunburnt cheek. “Well, if that be all, he
must even pay the fine.”
“It's five pound currency,” said the lawyer; “could Natty muster so much
money at once?”
“Could he!” cried the youth. “I am not rich, Mr. Lippet; far from it--I
am poor, and I have been hoarding my salary for a purpose that lies near
my heart; but, Before that old man should lie one hour in a jail, I
would spend the last cent to prevent it. Besides, he has killed two
panthers, and the bounty will discharge the fine many times over.”
“Yes, yes,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands together, with an
expression of pleasure that had no artifice about it; “we shall make it
out; I see plainly we shall make it out.”
“Make what out, sir? I must beg an explanation.”
“Why, killing the buck is but a small matter compared to what took place
this afternoon,” continued Mr. Lippet, with a confidential and friendly
air that won upon the youth, little as he liked the man. “It seems that
a complaint was made of the fact, and a suspicion that there was venison
in the hut was sworn to, all which is provided for in the statute, when
Judge Temple granted the search warrant.”
“A search-warrant!” echoed Edwards, in a voice of horror, and with a
face that should have been again averted to conceal its paleness; “and
how much did they discover? What did they see?”
“They saw old Bumppo's rifle; and that is a sight which will quiet most
men's curiosity in the woods.”
“Did they! did they!” shouted Edwards, bursting into a convulsive laugh;
“so the old hero beat them back beat them back! did he?” The lawyer
fastened his eyes in astonishment on the youth, but, as his wonder
gave way to the thoughts that were commonly uppermost in his mind, he
replied:
“It is no laughing matter, let me tell you, sir; the forty dollars of
bounty and your six months of salary will be much reduced before you can
get the matter fairly settled. Assaulting a magistrate in the execution
of his duty, and menacing a constable with firearms at the same time,
is a pretty serious affair, and is punishable with both fine and
imprisonment.”
“Imprisonment!” repeated Oliver; “imprison the Leather-Stocking! no, no,
sir; it would bring the old man to his grave. They shall never imprison
the Leather-Stocking.”
“Well, Mr. Edwards,” said Lippet, dropping all reserve from his manner,
“you are called a curious man; but if you can tell me how a jury is to
be prevented from finding a verdict of guilty, if this case comes fairly
before them, and the proof is clear, I shall acknowledge that you
know more law than I do, who have had a license in my pocket for three
years.”
By this time the reason of Edwards was getting the ascendency of his
feelings, and, as he began to see the real difficulties of the case,
he listened more readily to the conversation of the lawyer. The
ungovernable emotion that escaped the youth, in the first moments of his
surprise, entirely passed away; and, although it was still evident that
he continued to be much agitated by what he had heard, he succeeded in
yielding forced attention to the advice which the other uttered.
Notwithstanding the confused state of his mind, Oliver soon discovered
that most of the expedients of the lawyer were grounded in cunning,
and plans that required a time to execute them that neither suited his
disposition nor his necessities. After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to
under stand that he retained him in the event of a trial, an assurance
that at once satisfied the lawyer, they parted, one taking his course
with a deliberate tread in the direction of the little building that
had a wooden sign over its door, with “Chester Lippet, Attorney-at-law,”
painted on it; and the other pacing over the ground with enormous
strides toward the mansion-house. We shall take leave of the attorney
for the present, and direct the attention of the reader to the client.
When Edwards entered the hall, whose enormous doors were opened to the
passage of the air of a mild evening, he found Benjamin engaged in some
of his domestic avocations, and in a hurried voice inquired where Judge
Temple was to be found.
“Why, the Judge has stepped into his office, with that master carpenter,
Mister Doolittle; but Miss Lizzy is in that there parlor. I say, Master
Oliver, we'd like to have had a bad job of that panther, or painter's
work--some calls it one, and some calls it t'other--but I know little
of the beast, seeing that it is not of British growth. I said as much as
that it was in the hills the last winter for I heard it moaning on the
lake shore one evening in the fall, when I was pulling down from the
fishing-point in the skiff. Had the animal come into open water, where a
man could see where and how to work his vessel, I would have engaged the
thing myself; but looking aloft among the trees is all the same to me as
standing on the deck of one ship, and looking at another vessel's tops.
I never can tell one rope from another--”
“Well, well,” interrupted Edwards; “I must see Miss Temple.”
“And you shall see her, sir,” said the steward; “she's in this here
room. Lord, Master Edwards, what a loss she'd have been to the Judge!
Dam'me if I know where he would have gotten such another daughter; that
is, full grown, d'ye see. I say, sir, this Master Bumppo is a worthy
man, and seems to have a handy way with him, with firearms and
boat-hooks. I'm his friend, Master Oliver, and he and you may both set
me down as the same.”
“We may want your friendship, my worthy fellow,” cried Edwards,
squeezing his hand convulsively; “we may want your friendship, in which
case you shall know it.”
Without waiting to hear the earnest reply that Benjamin meditated, the
youth extricated himself from the vigorous grasp of the steward, and
entered the parlor.
Elizabeth was alone, and still reclining on the sofa, where we last left
her. A hand, which exceeded all that the ingenuity of art could model,
in shape and color, veiled her eyes; and the maiden was sitting as if
in deep communion with herself. Struck by the attitude and loveliness
of the form that met his eye, the young man checked his impatience, and
approached her with respect and caution.
“Miss Temple--Miss Temple,” he said, “I hope I do not intrude; but I am
anxious for an interview, if it be only for a moment.”
Elizabeth raised her face, and exhibited her dark eyes swimming in
moisture.
“Is it you, Edwards?” she said, with a sweetness in her voice, and a
softness in her air, that she often used to her father, but which, from
its novelty to himself, thrilled on every nerve of the youth; “how left
you our poor Louisa?”
“She is with her father, happy and grateful,” said Oliver, “I never
witnessed more feeling than she manifested, when I ventured to express
my pleasure at her escape. Miss Temple, when I first heard of your
horrid situation, my feelings were too powerful for utterance; and I did
not properly find my tongue, until the walk to Mr. Grant's had given
me time to collect myself. I believe--I do believe, I acquitted myself
better there, for Miss Grant even wept at my silly speeches.” For a
moment Elizabeth did not reply, but again veiled her eyes with her hand.
The feeling that caused the action, however, soon passed away, and,
raising her face again to his gaze, she continued with a smile:
“Your friend, the Leather-Stocking, has now become my friend, Edwards;
I have been thinking how I can best serve him; perhaps you, who know his
habits and his wants so well, can tell me----”
“I can,” cried the youth, with an impetuosity that startled his
companion. “I can, and may Heaven reward you for the wish, Natty has
been so imprudent as to for get the law, and has this day killed a deer.
Nay, I believe I must share in the crime and the penalty, for I was an
accomplice throughout. A complaint has been made to your father, and he
has granted a search--”
“I know it all,” interrupted Elizabeth; “I know it all. The forms of the
law must be complied with, however; the search must be made, the deer
found, and the penalty paid. But I must retort your own question. Have
you lived so long in our family not to know us? Look at me, Oliver
Edwards. Do I appear like one who would permit the man that has just
saved her life to linger in a jail for so small a sum as this fine? No,
no, sir; my father is a judge, but he is a man and a Christian. It is
all under stood, and no harm shall follow.”
“What a load of apprehension do your declarations remove!” exclaimed
Edwards: “He shall not be disturbed again! your father will protect him!
I have assurance, Miss Temple, that he will, and I must believe it.”
“You may have his own, Mr. Edwards,” returned Elizabeth, “for here he
comes to make it.”
But the appearance of Marmaduke, who entered the apartment, contradicted
the flattering anticipations of his daughter. His brow was contracted,
and his manner disturbed. Neither Elizabeth nor the youth spoke; but
the Judge was allowed to pace once or twice across the room without
interruption, when he cried:
“Our plans are defeated, girl; the obstinacy of the Leather-Stocking has
brought down the indignation of the law on his head, and it is now out
of my power to avert it.”
“How? in what manner?” cried Elizabeth; “the fine is nothing surely--”
“I did not--I could not anticipate that an old, a friendless man like
him, would dare to oppose the officers of justice,” interrupted the
Judge, “I supposed that he would submit to the search, when the fine
could have been paid, and the law would have been appeased; but now he
will have to meet its rigor.”
“And what must the punishment be, sir?” asked Edwards, struggling to
speak with firmness.
Marmaduke turned quickly to the spot where the youth had withdrawn, and
exclaimed:
“You here! I did not observe you. I know not what it will be, sir; it
is not usual for a judge to decide until he has heard the testimony, and
the jury have convicted. Of one thing, however, you may be assured,
Mr. Edwards; it shall be whatever the law demands, notwithstanding any
momentary weakness I may have exhibited, because the luckless man has
been of such eminent service to my daughter.”
“No one, I believe, doubts the sense of justice which Judge Temple
entertains!” returned Edwards bitterly.
“But let us converse calmly, sir. Will not the years, the habits,
nay, the ignorance of my old friend, avail him any thing against this
charge?”
“Ought they? They may extenuate, but can they ac quit? Would any society
be tolerable, young man, where the ministers of justice are to be
opposed by men armed with rifles? Is it for this that I have tamed the
wilderness?”
“Had you tamed the beasts that so lately threatened the life of Miss
Temple, sir, your arguments would apply better.”
“Edwards!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“Peace, my child,” interrupted the father; “the youth is unjust; but I
have not given him cause. I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know
thee to be the friend of Natty, and zeal in his behalf has overcome thy
discretion.”
“Yes, he is my friend,” cried Edwards, “and I glory in the title. He is
simple, unlettered, even ignorant; prejudiced, perhaps, though I feel
that his opinion of the world is too true; but he has a heart, Judge
Temple, that would atone for a thousand faults; he knows his friends,
and never deserts them, even if it be his dog.”
“This is a good character, Mr. Edwards,” returned Marmaduke, mildly;
“but I have never been so fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to me
he has been uniformly repulsive; yet I have endured it, as an old man's
whim, However, when he appears before me, as his judge, he shall find
that his former conduct shall not aggravate, any more than his recent
services shall extenuate, his crime.”
“Crime!” echoed Edwards: “is it a crime to drive a prying miscreant from
his door? Crime! Oh, no, sir; if there be a criminal involved in this
affair, it is not he.”
“And who may it be, sir?” asked Judge Temple, facing the agitated youth,
his features settled to their usual composure.
This appeal was more than the young man could bear. Hitherto he had
been deeply agitated by his emotions; but now the volcano burst its
boundaries.
“Who! and this to me!” he cried; “ask your own conscience, Judge Temple.
Walk to that door, sir, and look out upon the valley, that placid lake,
and those dusky mountains, and say to your own heart, if heart you have,
whence came these riches, this vale, those hills, and why am I their
owner? I should think, sir, that the appearance of Mohegan and the
Leather-Stocking, stalking through the country, impoverished and
forlorn, would wither your sight.”
Marmaduke heard this burst of passion, at first, with deep amazement;
but when the youth had ended, he beckoned to his impatient daughter for
silence, and replied:
“Oliver Edwards, thou forgettest in whose presence thou standest. I have
heard, young man, that thou claimest descent from the native owners of
the soil; but surely thy education has been given thee to no effect, if
it has not taught thee the validity of the claims that have transferred
the title to the whites. These lands are mine by the very grants of
thy ancestry, if thou art so descended; and I appeal to Heaven for a
testimony of the uses I have put them to. After this language, we must
separate. I have too long sheltered thee in my dwelling; but the time
has arrived when thou must quit it. Come to my office, and I will
discharge the debt I owe thee. Neither shall thy present intemperate
language mar thy future fortunes, if thou wilt hearken to the advice of
one who is by many years thy senior.”
The ungovernable feeling that caused the violence of the youth had
passed away, and he stood gazing after the retiring figure of Marmaduke,
with a vacancy in his eye that denoted the absence of his mind. At
length he recollected himself, and, turning his head slowly around the
apartment, he beheld Elizabeth, still seated on the sofa, but with her
head dropped on her bosom, and her face again concealed by her hands.
“Miss Temple,” he said--all violence had left his manner--“Miss
Temple--I have forgotten myself--forgotten you. You have heard what your
father has decreed, and this night I leave here. With you, at least, I
would part in amity.”
Elizabeth slowly raised her face, across which a momentary expression
of sadness stole; but as she left her seat, her dark eyes lighted with
their usual fire, her cheek flushed to burning, and her whole air seemed
to belong to another nature.
“I forgive you, Edwards, and my father will forgive you,” she said, when
she reached the door. “You do not know us, but the time may come when
your opinions shall change--”
“Of you! never!” interrupted the youth; “I--”
“I would speak, sir, and not listen. There is something in this affair
that I do not comprehend; but tell the Leather-Stocking he has friends
as well as judges in us. Do not let the old man experience unnecessary
uneasiness at this rupture. It is impossible that you could increase
his claims here; neither shall they be diminished by any thing you have
said. Mr. Edwards, I wish you happiness, and warmer friends.”
The youth would have spoken, but she vanished from the door so rapidly,
that when he reached the hall her form was nowhere to be seen. He
paused a moment, in stupor, and then, rushing from the house, instead
of following Marmaduke in his “office,” he took his way directly for the
cabin of the hunters.