Day broke slowly and heavily under a gray cloud, and found Lord
H---- and the Indian chief still seated side by side at the entrance
of the farmhouse. A word or two had passed between them in the
earlier part of the night; but for many hours before dawn they had
remained perfectly silent. Only once, through the hours of their
vigil, had the Black Eagle moved from his seat, and that was nearly at
midnight. The ears of Lord H---- had been upon the watch, as well as
his own; but, though the English nobleman heard no sound, the chief
caught a distant footfall about a quarter before twelve; and, starting
up, he listened attentively.
Then moving slowly towards the door, he stood there a few moments, as
still as a statue. Presently Lord H---- caught the sound which had
moved him, though it was exceedingly light; and the next instant
another dusky figure, not quite so tall as that of the chief, darkened
the moonlight, and threw its shadow into the doorway.
A few words then passed between the two Indians in their native
tongue, at first low and musical in tone, but then rising high in
accents, which seemed to the ear of the listener to express grief or
anger. Not more than five sentences were spoken on either part, and
then the last comer bounded away with a quick and seemingly reckless
step into the forest; and the old chief returned, and seated himself,
assuming exactly the same attitude as before.
When day dawned, however, Black Eagle rose, and said in English,--
"Now, my brother, let the voice of the Cataract awake the maiden, and
I will lead you on the way. Her horse has not yet come; but, if it
have not run with the wind or fed upon the fire, it will be here
speedily."
"Do you know, then, what became of it after it broke away from us?"
asked Lord H----.
"Nay," answered the Indian, "I know not; but my steps were in yours,
from the setting sun till you came hither. I was there for your
safety, my brother, and for the safety of the maiden."
"We should often have been glad of your advice," observed Lord
H----; "for we were sometimes in sore need of better information than
our own."
"The man who aids himself needs no aid," answered Black Eagle. "Thou
wert sufficient for the need; why should I take from thee the right to
act?"
As they were speaking, the light step of Edith was heard upon the
stairs; and the eyes of Black Eagle were fixed upon her, as she
descended, with a look which seemed to Lord H---- to have some
significance, though he could not tell exactly in what the peculiarity
consisted. It was calm and grave; but there was a sort of tenderness
in it, which, without knowing why, made the young nobleman fear that
the Indian was aware of some evil having befallen Mr. Prevost.
His mind was soon relieved, however; for, when Edith had descended,
the chief said at once,--
"Thy father is safe, my daughter. He passed through the fire
uninjured, and is in his own lodge."
Edith looked pale and worn, but the words of the chief called a joyful
smile upon her face and the colour back into her cheek. In answer to
the inquiries of Lord H----, she admitted that she had slept hardly at
all, and added, with a returning look of anxiety, "How could I sleep,
so uncertain as I was of my father's safety?"
She expressed an anxious desire to go forward as soon as possible, and
not to wait for the chance of her horse being caught by the Indians,
which she readily comprehended as the meaning of the Black Eagle, when
his somewhat ambiguous words were reported to her.
"They may catch him," she said, "or they may not; and my father will
be very anxious, I know, till he sees me. I can walk quite well."
The Indian was standing silently at the door, to which he had turned
after informing her of her father's safety; and Lord H----, taking her
hand, inquired in a low tone if she would be afraid to stay alone with
the Black Eagle for a few moments, while he sought for some food for
herself and him.
"Not in the least," she answered. "After his words last night, and the
throwing of his blanket round me, I am as safe with him as Otaitsa
would be. From that moment he looked upon me as his daughter, and
would treat me as such in any emergency."
"Well then, I will not be long," returned Lord H----; and, passing
the Indian, he said, "I leave her to your care for a few moments,
Black Eagle."
The Indian only answered by a sort of guttural sound, peculiar to his
people; and then turning back into the house, he seated himself on the
ground as before, and seemed inclined to remain in silence. But there
were doubts in Edith's mind which she wished to have solved; and she
said, "Is not my father thy brother, Black Eagle?"
"He is my brother," answered the Indian, laconically, and relapsed
into silence.
"Will a great chief suffer any harm to happen to his brother?" asked
Edith again, after considering for a few moments how to shape her
question.
"No warrior of the Totem of the Tortoise dare raise a tomahawk against
the brother of the Black Eagle," answered the chief.
"But is not Black Eagle the great chief of the Oneidas?" said Edith
again. "Do not the people of the Stone hear his voice? Is he not to
them as the rock on which their house is founded? Whither in the sky
could the Oneidas soar if the Black Eagle led them not? And shall they
disobey his voice?"
"The people of the Stone have their laws," replied the chief, "which
are thongs of leather, to bind each Sachem, and each Totem, and each
warrior. They were whispered into the roll of Wampum which is in the
hand of the great medicine-man, or priest, as you would call him; and
the voice of the Black Eagle, though it be strong in war, is as the
song of the bobolink, when compared to the voice of the laws."
Short as this conversation may seem when written down, it had occupied
several minutes; for the Indian had made long pauses; and Edith,
willing to humour him by adopting the custom of his people, had
followed his example.
His last reply was hardly given, when Lord H---- returned, carrying a
dry and rather hard loaf, and a jug of clear, cold water.
"I have not been very successful," he said; "for the people have
evidently abandoned the place, and all their cupboards but one are
locked up. In that, however, I found this loaf."
"They are squirrels who fly along the boughs at the sound of danger,
and leave their stores hidden," said the Black Eagle. "But dip the
bread in water, my daughter; it will give you strength by the way."
Lord H---- laid the loaf down upon the table, and hurried out of the
room again; but Edith had little opportunity of questioning her dusky
companion further before the nobleman's return. He was absent hardly
two minutes; and when he came back he led his horse behind him,
somewhat differently accoutred from the preceding day. The demi-pique
saddle was now covered with a pillow firmly strapped on with some
leathern thongs which he had found in the house, thus forming it into
a sort of pad; and the two stirrups brought to one side, stretched as
far apart as possible, and somewhat shortened, were kept extended by a
piece of plank passed through the irons, and firmly attached; thus
presenting a comfortable rest for the feet of any one sitting sideways
on the horse.
Lord H---- had done many a thing in life on which he might reasonably
pride himself. He had resisted temptations to which most men would
have yielded; he had done many a gallant and noble deed; he had
displayed great powers of mind, and high qualities of heart in
terrible emergencies and moments of great difficulty; but it may be
questioned whether he had ever smiled so complacently on any act of
his whole life as on the rapid and successful alteration of his own
inconvenient saddle into a comfortable lady's pad; and when he brought
out Edith to the door, and she saw how he had been engaged, she could
not help rewarding him with a beaming smile, in which amusement had a
less share than gratitude. Even over the dark countenance of the
Indian, trained to stoical apathy, something flitted, not unlike a
smile.
Lifting his fair charge in his arms, Lord H---- seated her lightly on
the horse's back, adjusted the rest for her feet with care, and then
took the bridle, to lead her on the way. The Indian chief, without a
word, walked on before, at a pace with which the horse's swiftest walk
could hardly keep up; and crossing the cleared land around the house,
they were soon once more under the branches of the forest.
More than once the Black Eagle had to pause and lean upon his rifle,
waiting for his two companions; but, doubtless, it was the
difficulties of the narrow path, never made for horses' hoofs, and not
the pleasure of prolonging conversation, and of gazing up, the while,
into a pair of as beautiful eyes as ever shone upon mortal man, or
into a face which might have looked out of heaven and not have shamed
the sky, that retarded the nobleman on his way.
Six miles were at length accomplished; and then they came into the
military high-road again, which led within a short distance of Mr.
Prevost's cottage. During the whole journey, the Indian chief had not
uttered a word; but as soon as he had issued forth from the narrow
path into the more open road, he paused, and waited till Edith came
up; then, pointing with his hand, he said--
"Thou knowest the way, my daughter; thou hast no more need of me; the
Black Eagle must wing his way back to his own rock."
"But shall we be safe?" asked Edith.
"As in the happy hunting-grounds," replied the chief. And, turning
away, he re-entered the trail by which they came.
Their pace was not much quicker than it had been in the more difficult
path. The seal seemed to be taken from Lord H----'s lips. He felt that
Edith was safe--nearer home, no longer left completely to his mercy
and his delicacy, and his words were tender and full of strong
affection; but she laid her hand gently upon his as it rested on the
peak of the saddle, and with a face glowing as if the leaves of the
autumn maples had cast a reflection from their crimson hues upon it,
she said--
"Oh, not now, not now--for Heaven's sake spare me a little, still."
He gazed up in her face with a look of earnest inquiry; but he saw
something there, either in the half-veiled swimming eyes, or in the
glowing cheek, or the agitated quivering of the lip, which was enough
to satisfy him.
"Forgive me," he said, in a deprecatory tone; but then, the moment
after he added, with frank soldierly boldness, "Dear Edith, I may
thank you now, and thank you with my whole heart; for I am not a
confident fool, and you are no light coquette; and did you hesitate,
you would say more."
Edith bent her head almost to the saddle-bow; and some bright drops
rolled over her cheek. The companions remained silent, each communing
with his and her own thoughts for a short time.
They were roused from somewhat agitated reveries by a loud and joyous
call; and, looking up the ascent before them, they saw Mr. Prevost on
horseback, and two of the negro slaves on foot, coming down as if to
meet them. They hurried on fast. The father and daughter sprang to the
ground; and oh, with what joy she felt herself in his arms!
It is a mistake to think that affection cannot be divided. Love is
like the banyan tree, which increases its own volume by casting forth
shoots in every direction; and each separate branch grows and
strengthens by the other. At that moment--with her whole bosom
thrilling with new emotions--with love for another acknowledged to her
own soul--with the earnest looking forward to happiness with him,--oh,
how much more strongly than ever she had felt it before, did Edith
feel her love for her father! What relief, what comfort, what
happiness, it was to her to find herself in those fond paternal arms!
It is unnecessary to give here the explanations that ensued. Mr.
Prevost had little to tell. He had passed safely, though not without
much danger and the scorching of his clothes and face, along the
course of the stream, and through a small part of the thicker wood. He
had found his house and all the buildings safe, and even the forest
immediately around still free from the fire, and out of danger, as
long as the wind remained easterly. Satisfied that his daughter would
find the farmer's family, and be kindly entertained, he had felt no
anxiety on her account, till about an hour before, when her horse had
come back to the house with the saddle and housings scorched and
blackened, and the hoofs nearly burnt off his feet. In great alarm for
Edith, Mr. Prevost had set out to seek her in haste. Her tale was soon
told; and again and again Mr. Prevost shook her protector's hand,
thanking him earnestly for all he had done for his child.
The distance to the house was not now great; and, giving the horses to
the negroes, the little party proceeded on foot, talking over the
events of the last few hours. When they reached the house, there were
somewhat obstreperous screams of joy from the women-servants, to see
their young mistress return; and Edith was speedily carried away to
her chamber for rest and refreshment. Breakfast was immediately
prepared in the hall for Lord H----, who had tasted no food since the
middle of the preceding day; but he ate little even now, and there was
a sort of restlessness about him which Mr. Prevost remarked with some
anxiety.
"My lord, you hardly taste your food," he said; "and either seem not
well, or not well at ease. I trust you have no subject of grief or
apprehension pressing on your mind?"
"None whatever," replied Lord H----, with a smile; "but, to tell you
the truth, my dear sir, I am impatient for a few moments' conversation
with you, alone; and I could well have spared my breakfast till they
were over. Pray let us go into the other room, where we shall not be
interrupted."
Mr. Prevost led the way, and closed the door after them, with a grave
face; for, as is usual in such cases, he had not the faintest idea of
what was coming.
"Our acquaintance has been very short, Mr. Prevost," said Lord
H----, as soon as they were seated--feeling, indeed, more hesitation
and embarrassment than he had imagined he could have experienced in
such circumstances; "but I trust you have seen enough of me, taken
together with what you may know by general repute, to make what I am
going to say not very presumptuous."
Mr. Prevost gazed at him in perfect astonishment, unable to conceive
where his speech would end; and, as the nobleman paused, he answered,
"Pray speak on, my lord. Believe me, I have the highest esteem and
regard for you. Your character and conduct through life have, I well
know, added lustre to your rank: and noble blood has justified itself
in you by noble actions. What on earth can you have to say which
could make me think you presumptuous for a moment?"
"Simply this, and perhaps you _may_ think me presumptuous when I have
said it," replied Lord H----: "I am going to ask you to give me
something, which I value very much, and which you rightly value as
much as anything you possess. I mean your daughter. Nay, do not start,
and turn so pale! I know all the importance of what I ask; but I have
now passed many days entirely in her society,--I have gone through
some difficulties and dangers with her, as you know--scenes and
sensations which endear two persons to each other. I have been much in
woman's society,--I have known the bright and the beautiful in many
lands; perhaps my expectations have been too great--my wishes too
exacting; but I never met woman hitherto who touched my heart. I have
now found the only one whom I can love; and I ask her of you with a
full consciousness of how much it is I ask."
Mr. Prevost had remained profoundly silent, with his eyes bent down,
and his cheek, as Lord H---- had said, very pale. There was a great
struggle in his heart, as there must be always in a parent's bosom in
such circumstances.
"She is very young--so very young,--just seventeen!" he murmured,
speaking to himself rather than to his companion.
"I may, indeed, be somewhat too old for her," said Lord H----,
thoughtfully; "yet, I trust, in heart and spirit at least, Mr.
Prevost, I have still all the freshness of youth about me."
"Oh, it is not that--it is not that at all," answered Edith's father;
"it is that she is so very young to take upon herself both cares and
duties. True, she is no ordinary girl, and perhaps if ever any one was
fit at so early an age for the great responsibilities of such a state,
it is Edith. Her education has been singular--unlike that of any other
girl."
Mr. Prevost had wandered away, as was his custom, from the immediate
question to collateral issues; and was no longer considering whether
he should give his consent to Edith's marriage with Lord H----, but
whether she was fit for the marriage state at all, and what effect the
education she had received would have upon her conduct as a wife. The
lover, in the mean time, habitually attaching himself and every
thought to one important object, was impatient for something more
definite; and he ventured to break across Mr. Prevost's spoken
reverie, by saying--
"Our marriage would be necessarily delayed, Mr. Prevost, for some
time, even if I obtain your consent. May I hope that it will be
granted to me--if no personal objection exists towards myself?"
"None in the world!" exclaimed Mr. Prevost, eagerly "You cannot
suppose it for a moment, my dear lord. All I can say is, that I will
oppose nothing which Edith calmly and deliberately thinks is for her
own happiness. What does she say herself?"
"She says nothing," answered Lord H----, with a smile; "for, though
she cannot doubt what are my feelings towards her, she has not been
put to the trial of giving any answer, without your expressed
approbation. May I believe, then, that I have your permission to offer
her my hand?"
"Beyond a doubt," replied Mr. Prevost. "Let me call her; her answer
will soon be given, for she is not one to trifle with anybody."
He rose as he spoke, as if to quit the room; but Lord H---- stopped
him, saying,--
"Not yet, not yet, my dear sir. She had little, if any, rest last
night, and has had much fatigue and anxiety during the last
twenty-four hours. Probably she is taking some repose, and I must not
allow even a lover's impatience to deprive her of that."
"I had forgotten," said Mr. Prevost. "It is, indeed, true, that the
dear child must need some repose. It is strange, my lord, how sorrows
and joys blend themselves together in all events of mortal life. I had
thought, when in years long ago I entwined my fingers in the glossy
curls of my Edith's hair, and, looking through the liquid crystal of
her eyes, seemed to see into the deep fountains of pure emotions in
her young heart--I had thought, I say, that few joys would be equal to
that of seeing her at some future day bestow her hand on a man worthy
of her, to make and partake the happiness of a cheerful home. But now
I find the thought has its bitter as well as sweet; and memories of
the grave rise up, to cast a solemn shade over the bright picture
fancy drew."
His tone dropped gradually as he spoke, and, fixing his eyes again
upon the ground, he relapsed into absent thought.
Lord H---- would not disturb his friend's reverie, and, walking gently
out of the room, he gave himself also up to meditation. But his
reflective moods were of a different kind from those of his
friend--more eager, more active; and they required some employment for
the limbs, while the mind was so busy. To and fro he walked before the
house, for nearly an hour, before Mr. Prevost came forth and joined
him, and then the walk still continued; but the father's thoughts,
though they had wandered for awhile, soon returned to his daughter,
and their conversation was of Edith only.
At length, when it was nearly noon, as they turned upon the little
open space of ground in front of the dwelling, the eyes of the
nobleman, which had been turned more than once to the door, rested on
Edith, as she stood in the hall and gazed forth over the prospect.
"The fire seems to be raging there still," she said, pointing with her
fair hand over the country towards the south-west, where hung a dense
canopy of smoke above the forest. "What a blessing one of our heavy
autumnal rains would be!"
Lord H---- made no reply, but suddenly left her father's side, and,
taking the extended hand in his, led her into the little sitting-room.
Shall we follow them thither, and listen to the words they
spoke--shall we tear the veil from that young, innocent, gentle heart,
and show, in the broad glare, the shy emotions only fitted to be seen
by one eye beside that of God? Oh, no! They remained long together--to
Mr. Prevost it seemed very long; but when Edith's lover led her to the
door again, happy tears were once more in her eyes, glad blushes on
her cheek; and, though the strong, manly arm was fondly thrown around
her waist, she escaped from its warm clasp, and cast herself upon the
bosom of her father.
"She is mine!" ejaculated Lord H----; "she is mine!"
"But none the less mine," answered Mr. Prevost kissing her cheek.
"Oh no," said Edith, "no! Always yours, my dear father--your child."
And then she added, while the glowing blood rushed over her beautiful
face, like the gush of morning over a white cloud, "_your_ child,
though his wife."
It cost her an effort to utter the word; yet she was pleased to speak
it; but then, the moment after, as if to hide it from memory again,
she said, "Oh, that dear Walter were here! He would be very happy, I
know, and say I had come to the end of my day-dreaming."
"He will be here probably to-night," observed her lover.
"We must not count upon it," rejoined her father; "he may meet with
many things to detain him. But now, my children, I will go in, and
make up my journal, till the dinner hour."
Edith leaned fondly on his bosom, and whispered, "And write that this
has been one happy day, my father."
Alas, alas! that the brightest sunshine and the softest sky should so
often precede the day of storms! Alas, that the dark tempest-clouds
should be so frequently gathering beneath the horizon all around us,
when the sky above seems full of hope and promise! But so it is too
often in this life. The old geographers' fancied figure of the earth
was very like the earth on which human hopes are raised--a fair and
even plain, with a yawning precipice all round it.