CHAPTER VIII.
Edith was very thoughtful through the rest of the day. Was it ofherself she thought? Was it of him who had been her companion throughthe greater part of the morning? Hardly at all.
Hast thou not heard, reader, in eastern fable, of springs of deep,clear water, covered from the eye of passing strangers by a sealedstone; and how, when he who has the talismanic secret approaches andsays the words of power, or makes the sign, the sealed fountain opensits cool treasure, and the bright stream wells forth? Such is woman'slove.
No word had been spoken, no sign had been given; no intimation to makethe seal on the fountain indicate that the master of its destiny wasnear. Edith had had a pleasant ramble with one such as she seldomsaw--and that was all. That he was different from the commonmultitude--higher, brighter, nobler in his thoughts--she had gatheredfrom their short acquaintance; and so far she might be led to think ofhim somewhat more than she thought of other men. But her meditationshad another object; her mind was attracted strongly in anotherdirection.
It is strange how clearly and how willingly women look into the heartsof others--how dimly, how reluctantly they see into their own. Therehad been something in the manner of her brother Walter, a hesitation,and yet an eagerness, a timidity unnatural, with a warmth that spokeof passion, which had not escaped her eye. In the sweet Indian girl,too, she had seen signs not equivocal: the fluttering blush; the lookfull of soul and feeling; the glance suddenly raised to the boy'sface, and suddenly withdrawn; the eyes full of liquid light, nowbeaming brightly under sudden emotion, now shaded beneath the longfringe, like the moon behind a passing cloud.
They were signs that Edith did not mistake, and they were for hersuggestive of thoughtfulness.
It might tire the reader, were we to trace all the considerations thatchased one another through her mind, or to tell how, for the firsttime--when she thought of her brother wedding an Indian girl, linkinghis fate for ever to the savages of the woods--she realized theconsequences of the solitary life her father had chosen, of theremoval from civilization, of the life in the wild forest.
For the first time it seemed to her that a dark, impenetrable curtainwas falling between herself and all the ancient things of history;that all, indeed, was to be new, and strange, and different. And yetshe loved Otaitsa well, and, in the last two years, had seen many atrait which had won esteem as well as love. The old Black Eagle, asher father was called, had ever been a fast and faithful ally of theEnglish; but to Mr. Prevost he had attached himself in a particularmanner. An accidental journey on the part of the old Sachem had firstbrought them acquainted, and from that day forward the distance of theOneida settlements was no impediment to their meeting. Whenever theBlack Eagle left his lodge, he was sure, in his own figurativelanguage, to wing his flight sooner or later towards the nest of hiswhite brother; and, in despite of Indian habits, he almost invariablybrought his daughter with him. When any distant or perilous enterprisewas on hand, Otaitsa was left at the lodge of the English family; andmany a week she had passed there at a time, loved by, and loving, allits inmates.
It was not there, however, that she had acquired her knowledge of theEnglish tongue, or the other characteristics which distinguished herfrom the ordinary Indian women. When she first appeared there, shespoke the language of the settlers as perfectly as they did; and itwas soon discovered that from infancy she had been under the care andinstruction of one of the English missionaries--at that time, alas!few--who had sacrificed all that civilized life could bestow for thepurpose of bringing the Indian savage into the fold of Christ.
Nor was it altogether rare in those days to find an Indian womanadopting, to a considerable degree, the habits and manners of theEuropeans. The celebrated Queen of Hearts, who played so important apart in the conspiracy of Pontiac, went even further than Otaitsa, forshe assumed the garb of the French, while the latter always retainedthe dress of her own nation, and was proud of her Indian blood. Andyet it was with a sort of melancholy pride; for she would franklyacknowledge the superiority of the white race, and the advantage ofthe civilization which her own people did not possess. It was,perhaps, rather like the clinging affection which binds thenoble-hearted to the falling and unfortunate than that vainer sort ofpride which fancies a reflected light to fall upon ourselves throughconnection with the powerful and the prosperous.
Whatever she was--whatever was high and bright in her nature--she wasstill the Indian maiden; and as such only could Edith look upon herwhen she thought of the love between her brother and Otaitsa, whichhad become but too apparent to her eyes.
Then again she asked herself, how should she act towards Walter,towards her father. Could she direct his attention to that which wasso evident to her? Oh, no! She felt as if it would be betraying asecret intrusted to her keeping. True, no word had been spoken, noconfession made; still they had both unveiled their hearts to eyesthey believed friendly, and she would not take advantage of theknowledge so acquired. Her father could and would see, she thought,and he would then judge for himself, and act according to hisjudgment.
But Edith did not know how little and how rarely men see into suchsecrets--especially men of studious habits. Mr. Prevost judged itquite right that Walter should stay with Otaitsa, and he even sent outthe old slave Agrippa, who, somehow, was famous as a marksman, with arifle on his shoulder, to act as a sort of scout upon the hill-side,and watch for anything bearing a hostile aspect.
After dinner, too, he walked out himself, and sat for an hour, withhis son and the Indian girl, speaking words of affection to her thatsank deep into her heart, and more than once brought drops into herbright eyes. No father's tenderness could exceed that he showed her;and Otaitsa felt as if he were almost welcoming her as a daughter.
When Mr. Prevost returned to the house, he gave himself up toconversation with his guest, transporting his spirit far away from thescenes before him to other lands and other times. Matters of taste andart were discussed: the imperishable works of genius, and the triumphsof mind; and, from time to time, the musical tones of Edith's voicemingled with the deeper sounds of her two companions. It was apleasant afternoon to all, for Mr. Prevost was himself somewhat of adreamer; and he, or Edith, or both, perhaps, had taught Lord H----,for the time, at least, to be a dreamer also.
Nor were higher topics left untouched. Nowhere so well as in widesolitudes can the spirit feel itself free to deal with its own mightyquestions. The pealing organ and the sounding choir may give adevotional tone to the mind; and the tall pillar and the dusty aislemay afford solemnity to the thoughts; but would you have the spiritclimb from the heart's small secret chamber towards the footsteps ofthe throne of God, and bring back some rays of brighter light toilluminate the darkness of our earthly being, choose the templeunprofaned of his own creation; stand and contemplate His might andmajesty amidst the solemn woods or on the awful mountain-tops: or gazewith the astronomer at the distant stars, resolving filmy clouds intoinnumerable worlds, and separating specks of light into suns andsystems.
Evening had not lost its light, when a shout from Walter's voiceannounced that he was drawing nigh the house; and in a moment after hewas seen coming across the cleared land, with his bright youngcompanion, and two other persons.
One was a tall red man, upwards of six feet in height, dressedcompletely in the Indian garb, but without paint. He could not havebeen less than sixty years of age; but his strong muscles seemed tohave set at defiance the bending power of time. He was as upright as apine, and he bore his heavy rifle in his right hand as lightly as ifit had been a reed. In his left he carried a long pipe, showing thathis errand was one of peace; but tomahawk and scalping-knife were inhis belt, and he wore the sort of feather crown or Grostowehdistinguishing the chief.
The other man might be of the same age, or a little older. He, too,seemed active and strong for his years; but he wanted the erect andpowerful bearing of his companion; and his gait and carriage, as muchas his features and complexion, distinguished him from the Indian. Hi
sdress was a strange mixture of the ordinary European costume and thatof the half-savage rangers of the forest. He wore a black coat, or onewhich had once been black; but the rest of his garments were composedof skins, some tanned into red leather, after the Indian fashion, somewith the hair still on, and turned outwards. He bore no arms whatever,unless a very long and sharp-pointed knife could be considered aweapon, though in his hands it only served the innocent purpose ofdividing his food, or carving willow whistles for the children of theSachem's tribe.
Running, with a light foot, by the side of the chief, as he strodealong, came Otaitsa; but the others followed the Indian fashion,coming after him in single file, while old Agrippa, with his rifle onhis arm, brought up the rear, appearing from the wood somewhat behindthe rest.
"It is seldom I have so many parties of guests in two short days,"said Mr. Prevost, moving towards the door. "Generally, I have either awhole tribe at once, or none at all. But this is one of my bestfriends, my lord, and I must go to welcome him."
"He is a noble-looking man," observed the young officer. "This is theBlack Eagle, I suppose, whom the pretty maiden talked of."
Mr. Prevost made no reply, for, by this time, the chief's long stridesbrought him almost to the door, and his hand was already extended tograsp that of his white friend.
"Welcome, Black Eagle!" said Mr. Prevost.
"Thou art my brother," returned the chief, in English, but with a muchless pure accent than that of his daughter.
"What news from Corlear?" asked Mr. Prevost.
But the Indian answered not; and the man who followed him replied inso peculiar a style, that we must give his words, though they importedvery little, as far as the events to be related are concerned.
"All is still on the banks of Champlain Lake," he said; "but Hurontracks are still upon the shore. The friendly Mohawks watched themcome and go; and tell us that the Frenchman, too, was there, paintedand feathered like the Indian chiefs; but finding England strongerthan they thought, upon the side of Horicon, they sailed back to FortCarrillon on Monday last."
For awhile, Lord H---- was completely puzzled to discover what it wasthat gave such peculiarity to the missionary's language; for the wordsand accents were both those of an ordinary Englishman of no verysuperior education; and it was not till Mr. Gore had uttered one ortwo sentences more, that he perceived that everything he said arrangeditself into a sort of blank verse, not very poetical, not verymusical, but easily enough to be scanned.
In the mean while, the Black Eagle and his host had entered the house,and proceeded straight to the great eating-hall, where the whole partyseated themselves in silence, Otaitsa taking her place close to theside of Edith, and Walter stationing himself where he could watch thebright girl's eyes, without being remarked himself.
For a moment or two, no one spoke, in deference to the Indian habits;and then Mr. Prevost broke silence, saying,--
"Well, Black Eagle, how fares it with my brother?"
"As with the tamarack in the autumn," answered the warrior; "the coldwind sighs through the branches, and the fine leaves wither and fall;but the trunk stands firm as yet, and decay has not reached theheart."
"This is a chief from the land of my white fathers," said Mr. Prevost,waving his hand gracefully towards Lord H----; "he has but latelycrossed the great water."
"He is welcome to what was once the red man's land," said Black Eagle;and, bending his eyes upon the ground, but without any sign of emotionat the thoughts which seemed to lie beneath his words, he relapsedinto silence for a minute or two. Then raising his head again, heasked, "Is he a great chief? Is he a warrior? or a man of council? ora medicine man?"
"He is a great chief and a warrior," answered Mr. Prevost; "he ismoreover skilful in council, and his words are clear as the waters ofHoricon."
"He is welcome," repeated the chief; "he is our brother. He shall becalled the Cataract, because he shall be powerful, and many shallrejoice at the sound of a strong voice.--But my brother--"
"Speak on," said Mr. Prevost, seeing that he paused; "they arefriends' ears that listen."
"Thou art too near the Caturqui; thou art too near to Corlear," saidthe warrior, meaning, the river St. Lawrence and Lake Champlain."There is danger for our brother; and the wings of the Black Eagledroop when he is in his solitary place afar amidst the children of theStone, to think that thou art not farther within the walls of the LongHouse."
"What does he mean by the walls of the Long House?" asked Lord H----,in a whisper, addressing Edith.
"Merely the territory of the Five Nations, or Iroquois, as the Frenchcall them," answered his fair companion.
"I fear not, brother," replied Mr. Prevost; "the fire and the ironhave not met to make the tomahawk which shall reach my head."
"But for the maiden's sake," pursued Black Eagle. "Is she not unto usas a daughter? Is she not the sister of Otaitsa? I pray thee, WhitePine-tree, let her go with the Eagle and the Blossom into the land ofthe children of the Stone--but for a few moons--till thy people havetriumphed over their enemies, and till the Five Nations have heweddown the tree of the Huron and the Alonquin; till the war-hatchet isburied, and the pipe of peace is smoked."
"'Twere better, truly, my good friend Prevost," said Mr. Gore. "Wehave seen sights to-day would make the blood of the most bold andhardy man on earth turn cold and icy to behold, and know he had adaughter near such scenes of death."
"What were they, my good friend?" asked Mr. Prevost. "I have heardof nothing very new or near. The last was the capture of FortWilliam-Henry, some six weeks since, but as yet we have not heard thewhole particulars; and surely, if we are far enough away for thetidings not to reach us in six weeks, it is not likely that hostilearmies would approach us very soon."
"Thou art deceived, my brother," answered the Black Eagle. "One shortday's journey lies betwixt thee and the battle-field. This morning wecrossed it when the sun wanted half an hour of noon, and we are herebefore he has gone down behind the forest. What we saw chilled theblood of my brother here, for he has not seen such things before. Thechildren of the Stone slay not women and children when the battle isover."
"Speak, speak, my good friend, Mr. Gore," said the master of thehouse; "you know our habits better, and can tell us more of what hashappened. Things which are common to his eye must be strange toyours."
"We passed the ground between the one fort and the other," answeredthe missionary. "The distance is but seven or eight miles, and in thatshort space lay well nigh a thousand human bodies slain by every darkand terrible means of death. There were young and old; the grey-headedofficer; the blooming youth fresh from his mother's side; women, andboys and girls, and little infants snatched from a mother's breast, todie by the hatchet, or the war-club. We heard that the tiger Montcalm,in violation of his given word, in defiance of humanity, Christianity,and the spirit of a gentleman, stood by and saw his own conventionbroken, and gallant enemies massacred by his savage allies. But whatthe chief says is very true, my friend. You are far too near thisscene; and although, perhaps, no regular army could reach this placebefore you received timely warning, yet the Indian forerunners may beupon you at any moment; your house may be in flames and you and yourchildren massacred ere any one could come to give you aid. The troopsof our country are far away; and no force is between you and Horicon,but a small number of our Mohawk brethren, who are not as well pleasedwith England as they have been."
Mr. Prevost turned his eyes towards Lord H----, and the youngEnglishman replied to Mr. Gore at once, saying, with a quietinclination of the head,--
"On one point you are mistaken, sir. Lord Loudon has returned, andthere is now a strong force at Albany. I passed through that citylately, and I think that, by the facts which must have come to hisknowledge, General Montcalm will be deterred from pushing his brutalincursions farther this year, at least. Before another morning shinesupon us, he may receive some punishment for his faithless cruelty."
"If not here, hereafter," said the missionary. "Th
ere is justice inheaven, sir, and often it visits the evil-doer upon earth. That man'send cannot be happy. But I fear you will not give us aid in persuadingyour friend here to abandon, for a time, his very dangerous position."
"I know too little of Mr. Prevost's affairs," replied Lord H----, "toadvise either for or against. I know still less, too, of the state ofthe country between this and the French line. Perhaps, in a day ortwo, I may know more, and then, as a military man myself, I can bettertell him what are the real dangers of his situation. At all events, Ishould like to think over the matter till to-morrow morning, before Ioffer an opinion. From what was said just now, I infer that the Huronsand the French having gone back, there can be no immediate peril."
Mr. Gore shook his head, and the Indian chief remained in profound andsomewhat dull silence, seeming not very well pleased at the result ofthe discussion.
A few minutes after, the evening meal was brought in, and to it theBlack Eagle did ample justice; eating like an European with a knifeand fork, and displaying no trace of the savage in his demeanour atthe table. He remained profoundly silent, however, till the partyrose, and then, taking Mr. Prevost by the hand, he said,--
"Take counsel of thine own heart, my brother. Think of the flower thatgrows up by thy side--ask if thou wouldst have it trodden down by thered man's moccassin; and listen not to the Cataract, for it is cold."
Thus saying, he unrolled one of the large skins, which lay at the sideof the room, and stretched himself upon it to take repose.
Edith took Otaitsa by the hand, saying--"Come, Blossom: you shall bemy companion as before." Walter, retiring the moment after, left LordH---- and his host to consult together with Mr. Gore.