CHAPTER XXIII
We must now return to the scene in which this narrative firstcommenced; but, oh! how changed was the aspect of all things from thatwhich the house of Mr. Prevost presented but five short months before!The father and the daughter were there alone. The brother no longergleamed about the house, with his blithesome air and active energies,and the thought of him and of his fate hung continually, like a darkshadow, over those to whom he was so dear. They were not whollywithout comfort; they were not wholly without hope; for, from time totime, renewed assurances came to them from many a quarter that Walterwould still be saved. But still time wore on, and he was notdelivered.
During the winter Lord H---- visited them very frequently, and it isprobable that, had no dark cloud overshadowed the hopes as well as thehappiness of all, he would have pressed for the prize of Edith's handwithout delay; but he loved not the mingling of joy and sorrow. Inthat, at least, his view of the world, and life, and fate, wasdeceitful. He was not yet convinced, although he had some experience,that such a thing as unalloyed happiness, even for a few short days,is not to be found on earth--that the only mine of gold without drosslies beneath the grave.
In the meantime, the gathering together of British soldiers on theHudson and the Mohawk had, like one wave meeting another, somewhatrepelled the Indian tribes. A runner, a half-breed, or one or tworedmen together--more frequently from the nation of the Mohawks thanfrom any other tribe--would be seen occasionally, wandering throughthe woods, or crossing the open ground near the settler's dwelling;but they seldom approached the house, and their appearance caused noapprehension. Relations of the greatest amity had been establishedbetween the British authorities and the chiefs of the Five Nations,and several of the tribes were preparing to take part in the comingstrife upon the side of England.
Three times during the winter the house of Mr. Prevost was visited bya single Indian of the Oneida tribe. On two occasions it was a man whopresented himself, and his stay was very short. On the first occasion,Edith was alone, when, without the sound of footsteps, he glided inlike a dark shadow. His look was friendly, though for a moment he saidnothing, and Edith, well knowing their habits, asked if he would takefood. He answered yes, in his own language; and she called some of theservants to supply him; but before he ate, he looked up in her face,saying: "I am bidden to tell thee that thy brother shall be safe."
"Whose words do you bear?" asked Edith; "is it the Black Eaglespeaks?"
"Nay; Otaitsa," replied the man.
This was all she could learn, for the messenger was either ignorant ofmore or affected to be so; yet still it was a comfort to her. The nextwho came was a woman, somewhat past the middle age, and by no meansbeautiful. She stayed long, and with good-natured volubility relatedall that had happened immediately after Edith's visit to the OneidaCastle. She dwelt upon the attempt of the Blossom to deliver her loveras she would have expatiated upon some daring feat of courage in awarrior; and though in the end she had to tell how the maiden's boldeffort had been frustrated, she added: "Yet he shall be safe; theyshall not slay our brother."
The third time the same man returned, bearing the same assurances;but, as hour after hour went by, and day by day, without the lad'sreturn, or any definite news of him, hope sickened and grew faint. Bythis time it was known that the efforts of the Mohawks and theOnondagas had been frustrated; and, moreover, it was plainly intimatedby the chiefs of those two nations that they would interfere no more.
"The Oneidas have reproved us," they said, "and we had no reply. Wemust not make the children of the Stone hiss at our children; neithermust we break the bonds of our alliance for a single man."
The scouts who had been put under the order of Woodchuck were recalledto the army early in the spring without having effected anything. Allthat had been heard at the forts showed that the young prisoner hadbeen removed to the very farthest part of the Oneida territory, whereit was impossible for any single Englishman to penetrate without beingdiscovered by the Indians.
Of Woodchuck himself nothing was heard till the flowers began tospring up, close upon the footsteps of the snow. It was believed thathe was still in the forest, but even of this no one was assured; andall that, with any accuracy, could be divined, was that he had notfallen into the hands of the Oneidas, inasmuch as there was everyreason to believe that, had such been the case, Walter's liberationwould have immediately followed. Thus matters had gone on in thehousehold of Mr. Prevost, till about a month before the period atwhich I have thought best to present to the reader the three Indiansseated on the hill.
The day had been one of exceeding loveliness, and not without itsactivity, too, for a party of soldiers had been thrown forward forsome object, to a spot within a mile and a half from the house, andLord H---- had been twice there, making Edith's heart thrill, eachtime he appeared, with emotions still so new and strange as set herdreaming for an hour after he was gone. The evening had come, bringingwith it some clouds in the western sky, and Edith, as she sat with herfather, looked out from the window, with her head resting on her hand.
As she gazed, she perceived a figure slowly crossing between thegardener boy and old Agrippa, who were working in the gardens, andapparently taking its course to the door of the house. At first shedid not recognize it, for it was more like an Indian than that of aEuropean, more like that of a bear than either. It had a human face,however, and as it came forward an impression, at first faint, butincreasing with every step it advanced, took possession of her, thatit must be the man whose fatal act had brought so much wretchednessupon her family. He was very much, very sadly changed; and althoughthe bearskins in which he was dressed hid the emaciation of his form,the meagerness of his face was very evident as he came near.
Edith lifted her head from her hand, saying: "I think, my father, hereis Captain Brooks approaching. Poor man! he seems terribly changed!"
Mr. Prevost started up, gazed for a moment from the window, and thenhurried forth to meet him.
Edith had the happiness to see her father take the wanderer kindly bythe hand and lead him toward the door. Whatever had been Mr. Prevost'sfeelings, the sight of Woodchuck's altered face was enough to softenthem entirely. The next moment they entered the room together, andEdith extended her hand kindly to him.
"Ah, Miss Prevost, you are very good," he said; "and so is yourfather, too. I have not been to see you for a long time."
"That was not right of you, Woodchuck," she said; "you should havecome to see us. We know all you have been trying to do for my brother.If you cannot succeed it is not your fault, and we should have beenglad to see you, both for your own sake and for the sake of hearingall your proceedings as they occurred."
"Ah, but I have been far away," he answered. "I first tried to get atthe poor boy from this side, and finding that would not do, I took along round and came upon them from the west; but I got nothing butsome information; and then I made up my mind. Them Ingians are ascunning as Satan. I have circumvented them once, but they won't let aman do it twice."
Mr. Prevost had stood listening, eager to hear anything that relatedto his son. "We will more of this by and by, Brooks. Come into thehall and have some food. You must be hungry and tired, both, I amsure."
"No," replied Woodchuck, "I am not hungry. Tired a little I am, Iguess, though I have not walked more than forty miles. But I met ayoung Ingian, two or three hours ago, who gave me some venison steaksoff his own fire. Some rest will soon set all to rights."
"Take some wine at least," said Mr. Prevost; "that will do you good;you look quite faint."
"Faint in limb, but not in heart," replied Woodchuck, stoutly."However, I won't refuse the wine, for it was given to cheer the heartof man, as the Bible says, and mine wants cheering, though it does notwant strengthening; for I'll do what I say, as I'm a living man."
They took him into the hall, and persuaded him both to eat and drink,evidently to his benefit, for though he did not lose the sad tone inwhich he spoke, his voice was stronger, and his featu
res seemed togrow less sharp.
"And where have you been ever since the snow has been on the ground?"asked Edith, when he seemed a little revived. "You cannot surely havebeen wandering in the woods during the terribly severe weather we hadin January."
"I hutted myself down," he said, "like an Ingian or a beaver, andcovered the lodge all over with snow. I planted it upon a ledge ofrock, with its mouth close behind an old hemlock tree, and made itwhite all over, so they would have been worse than devils to find me;for life is sweet, Miss Prevost, even in winter time, and I did notwish to be tomahawked so long as I could help it."
"You must have had a sad, desolate time, I fear," said Mr. Prevost;"at least till the spring came round."
"I guess it wasn't very cheerful," answered Woodchuck; "but that's thebest way to teach one's self not to care for what's coming. At least Iused to think so once, and to believe that if a man could once makehimself very miserable in this world he would not much care how soonhe went out of it; but I've changed my opinion on that matter alittle, for up there on the side of the hill, after four or fiveweeks, half famished, half frozen, I did not feel a bit more inclinedto die than I did a year ago, when there were few lighter-hearted thanmyself. So I thought, before I did anything of the kind, knowing thatthere was no need of it just yet, I would just go and take a rambleamong the mountains in the fine weather, like Jephtha's daughter."
His words would have been enigmas to Edith, had she not somehowmisunderstood their obvious meaning; for Lord H----, not fully knowingthe character of the man, and unwilling to excite confident hope thatmight ultimately be disappointed by some change of Woodchuck'sfeelings, had foreborne to mention more of his purposes than the merefact of his intention to peril his own life to save that of WalterPrevost. To Edith the words used by Woodchuck seemed but to imply thathe still contemplated some daring attempt to set her brother atliberty; and in the hope, if she could learn the particulars of hisscheme, to be able to procure the co-operation of Otaitsa and othersin the Oneida Castle, she said: "You are indeed a good, kind friend,Woodchuck, and you have, I know, already undergone great risks forpoor Walter's sake. There are others laboring for him, too, andperhaps if we knew what you intended to do next----"
"To do next!" exclaimed the man, interrupting her. "Why, haven't Itold you? I said when I found I could not get in from the west I madeup my mind."
"To do what, my good friend?" said Mr. Prevost. "You certainly impliedyou intended to do something, but what you did not state. Now, Ieasily understand Edith's anxiety to know your intentions, for we haveobtained friends in the Oneida camp who might give great assistance toyour efforts if we knew what they are to be. But I should tell you, mydear daughter here ventured across the Mohawk country to see our dearlittle Otaitsa, who, like you, risked her own life to save my poorboy--God's blessing be upon her!"
The tears rose in his eyes, and he paused for a moment; but Woodchuckwaved his hand, saying: "I know all about it. I were on the bank ofthe creek, Miss Edith, when the Ingian woman paddled you back, and Iguessed how it had all been. I said to myself, when I heard more of ittwo days arter, 'Her father will be mighty angry,' and so he were, Iguess."
"You are mistaken, my friend," said Mr. Prevost, laying his hand onEdith's with a tender pressure. "I was not angry, though I was muchalarmed; but that alarm was not of long endurance, for I was detainedmuch longer than I expected at Sir William Johnson's, and my anxietywas only protracted two days after my return. But still you have nottold us of your plans. If that dear girl, Otaitsa, can help us, shewill do it if it cost her life!"
Woodchuck paused a moment or two, in deep, absent thought, and overhis rough countenance the trace of many a strong emotion flitted; butat length he said, in a low, distinct voice: "She can do nothing.Black Eagle has the boy under his keen eye. He loves him well, Mr.Prevost, and he will treat him kindly; but just as much as he doeslove him he will make it a point to keep him safely, and to kill him,too, if he ha'n't got another victim. That man should ha' been one ofthose old Romans I have heard talk of, who killed their own sons anddaughters rather than not do what they thought right. He'd not sparehis own flesh and blood--not he; and the more he loves him the surerhe'll kill him!"
Edith wept, and Mr. Prevost covered his eyes with his hands; butWoodchuck, who had been gazing down upon the table, and saw not thepowerful emotions his words had produced, proceeded, after a gloomypause: "He'll watch his daughter sharply, too, though they say hepraised her daring; and that I guess he did, for that's just the sortof thing to strike his fancy. He'll take care she sha'n't do it again.No! no! There's but one way with Black Eagle. I know him well, and heknows me, and there is but one way with him."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Prevost, in a tone of deep melancholy.
"Just to do what I intend," replied Woodchuck, with a very calmmanner. "Mr. Prevost, I love my life as much as any man--a little toomuch, mayhap, and I intend to keep it as long as I rightly can; forthere are always things written in that chapter of accidents that noneon us can see. But I don't intend to let your son Walter--he's a goodboy--be put to death for a thing of my doing. You don't suppose it? Atfirst, when the thing came fresh upon me at Albany, I felt mighty likea fool and a coward, and I would ha' skulked away into any hole, justto save myself from myself. But I soon took thought, and made up mymind. Now, here you and Miss Edith have been praising and thanking mefor trying to save poor Walter's life. I didn't deserve no praise, nothanks, either. It was my own life I was trying to save; for if Icould get him out secretly we should both be secure enough; but I'vegiven it up. It can't be done; and Black Eagle knows it. He knows me,too, and he's just as sure at this blessed moment that before the dayhe has appointed for Walter to die, Woodchuck will walk in and say,'Here I am!' as he is that he's in his own lodge. Then he will havegot the right man, and all will be settled. Now, Mr. Prevost, and you,Miss Edith, you know what I intend to do. To-morrow, when I'm a bitrested, I shall set out again and take my ramble in the mountains likeJephtha's daughter, as I said. Then this day month I will be hereagain to bid you all good-bye. Walter will have to tell you the rest.Don't cry so, there's a good girl. You're like to set me a-crying,too. There's one thing more I have to ask you both, and that is: Neverspeak another word to me about this matter--not even when I come backagain. I try not to think of it at all myself, and I don't much now.If I can screw myself up like those Ingians, I shall just walk quietlyin among them as if nothing were going to happen, and say, 'Set theboy free; here's Woodchuck himself,' and then die--not like an Indian,but like a Christian, I trust, and one that knows he's a-doing of hisduty, anyhow. So now not a word more--and let's talk of somethingelse."
Woodchuck steadily and sturdily refused to pursue any further thesubject of his fixed determination, although both Mr. Prevost andEdith, deeply touched, and, to say the truth, much agitated, wouldfain have dwelt upon the topic longer. Edith felt, and Mr. Prevostargued in his own mind, that the poor man was performing a generousand self-devoted act, which no moral obligation forced upon him. Theyfelt, too, that so noble a heart was not one which ought to besacrificed to the vengeful spirit of the Indians; and the naturalfeeling of joy and satisfaction which they experienced at the apparentcertainty of Walter's deliverance from death seemed to them almost acrime, when it was to be purchased at so dear a price.
His obstinacy, however, conquered; the subject was changed; and asthey sat together in the little room to which he had led the way, theycontinued a broken sort of conversation, while the shades of eveninggathered thick round them, upon topics connected with that which theyhad quitted, though avoiding the point which was most painfullyprominent in the mind of each.
"They are a savage set," he would say, "and the devil himself has ashare in them. I have heard people talk much of their generosity, andall that, but I guess I've not seen much of it."
Mr. Prevost was silent, for his feelings had suffered a natural changetoward the Indians; but Edith exclaimed, "We cannot say that of dearOtaitsa, at all events, Wo
odchuck; for she surely has a heart full ofgenerosity, and everything that is noble."
"That's not raal, that's not raal," answered Woodchuck. "That comes ofthe blood that's in her. For that matter, Black Eagle has some finethings about him. He's the best of them I ever saw. We used to say,'Whole Ingian, half devil.' I think in his case it must have beenquarter devil, and that's saying a good deal for so fierce a man as hein battle. They say he has scalped more enemies than all his tribe puttogether, specially in that war down upon the Pennsylvania side somenineteen years ago, when some of our people foolishly took part withthe Mohagans."
Mr. Prevost started, and Woodchuck went on, saying: "He has goodthings, for he always makes his people spare the women and children;which is what them Ingians seldom think of. A scalp's a scalp to them,whether it has got long hair on it or only a scalp-lock. But, as I wassaying, the Blossom has got all that is good in him, and all that wasgood in her mother, poor thing; and that was a mighty great deal."
"I have often wished," said Mr. Prevost, "that I could hear somethingof Otaitsa's history. Her mother, I believe, was a white woman, and Ihave more than once tried, when I found the Black Eagle in acommunicative mood, to lead him to speak upon the subject; but themoment it was touched upon he would wrap his blanket round him andstalk away."
"Aye! he has never forgotten her," said Woodchuck. "He never tookanother wife, you know; and well he may remember her, for she was hisbetter angel, and ruled him completely, which was what no one elsecould. But I can tell you all about it, if you like to know, for Iheard it all from an old squaw, one time; and I saw the lady once,too, myself, and talked to her."
"I think," said Edith, thoughtfully, "that she must have been a lady;for when I was in their lodge, I saw, in Otaitsa's little chamber, agreat number of things of European manufacture and of high taste."
"May not those have been procured for the dear girl by our good friendGore?" asked Mr. Prevost. "He is a man of much taste himself."
"I think not," answered Edith. "They are evidently old, and seemed tohave belonged to one person; besides, there are a number of drawings,all evidently done by one hand--not what anyone would purchase, andapparently by an amateur rather than an artist."
Mr. Prevost fell into a fit of thought, and leaned his head upon hishand, but Woodchuck replied: "Oh, they are her mother's, beyond doubt;they are her mother's. She was quite a lady, every inch of her; youcould hear it in the tone of her voice, you could see it in her walk.Her words, too, were those of a lady; and her hand, too, was so smalland delicate it could never have seen work. Do you know, Miss Edith,she was wonderfully like you--more like you than Otaitsa. But I'lltell you all about it, just as I heard it from the old squaw. At thetime I talk of--that's a good many years ago--eighteen, or nineteen,maybe--Black Eagle was the handsomest man that had ever been seen inthe tribes, they say, and the fiercest warrior, too. He was alwaysready to take part in any war, and whenever fighting was going on hewas there. Well, the Delawares had not been quite brought under atthat time by the Five Nations, and he went down with his warriors andthe Mohawks, to fight against the Mohagans; they were Delawares, too,you know, somewhere on the Monongahela River, just at the corner ofPennsylvania and Virginny. Our people had given some help to theMohagans, and they were, at that time, just laying the foundations ofa fort, which the French got hold of afterward and called Fort, duQuesne. Well, there was an old general officer who thought he would goup and see how the works were going on, and as things were quietenough just then--though it; was but a calm before a storm--he tookhis daughter with him, and journeyed away pleasantly enough, throughthe woods. I dare say, though, it must have been slow work, for as heintended to stay all the summer, the old man took a world of baggagewith him; but the third or fourth night after leaving the civilizedparts they lodged in an Indian village, when, all in a minute, just asthey were going to bed, down comes Black Eagle upon them with hiswarriors. There was a dreadful fight in the village, nothing butscreams, and war-whoops, and rifle shots; and the Mohagans, poordevils, were almost put out that night; for they were taken unawares,and they do say not a man escaped alive out of the wigwam. At thefirst fire out rushes the old general from the hut, and at the sameminute a rifle ball, perhaps from a friend, perhaps from an enemy--noone can tell--goes right through his heart. Black Eagle was collectingscalps all this time, but when he turned round, or came back, orhowever it might be, there he found the poor young lady, the officer'sdaughter, crying over her father. Well, he wouldn't suffer them tohurt her, but took her away to the Oneida country with him, andgathered up all her goods and chattels, and her father's, and carriedthat off, too; but all for her, for it seems he fell in love with herat first sight. What made her first like him, they say, was that hewouldn't let the savages scalp the old man, telling them that theEnglish were allies, and declaring that the ball that killed him didnot come from an Oneida rifle. However that may be, the poor girl hadno choice but to marry Black Eagle, though the old woman said that,being a great chief's daughter, she made him promise never to haveanother wife, and, if ever a Christian priest came there, to bemarried to her according to her own fashion."
While he spoke Mr. Prevost had remained apparently buried in deep andvery gloomy thought, but he had heard every word, and his mind hadmore than once wandered wide away, as was its wont, to collateralthings, not only in the present but in the past. When Woodchuckstopped he raised his head and gazed at him for a moment in the face,with a look of earnest and melancholy inquiry. "Did you ever hear hername?" he asked. "Can you tell me her father's name?"
"No," replied Woodchuck. "I had the history almost all from the oldsquaw, and if she had tried to give me an English name she would havemanufactured something, such as never found its way into an Englishmouth. All she told me was that the father was a great chief among theEnglish, by which I made out that she meant a general."
"Probably it was her father's portrait I saw at the Indian Castle,"said Edith. "In Otaitsa's room there was a picture that struck me morethan any of the others, except, indeed, the portrait of a lady. It wasthat of a man in a military dress of antique cut. His hand wasstretched out, with his drawn sword in it, and he was looking roundwith a commanding air, as if telling his soldiers to follow. I markedit particularly at first, because the sun was shining on it, andbecause the frame was covered with the most beautiful Indian beadworkI ever saw. That of the lady, too, was similarly ornamented; but therewas another interested me much--a small pencil drawing of a youngman's head, so like Walter that at first I almost fancied dear Otaitsahad been trying to make his portrait from memory."
"Would you remember the old man's face, my child, if you saw itagain?" asked Mr. Prevost, gazing earnestly at his daughter.
"I think so," said Edith, a little confused by her father'searnestness; "I am quite sure I should."
"Wait, then, a moment," said Mr. Prevost, "and call for lights, mychild."
As he spoke he rose and quitted the room; but he was several minutesgone, and lights were burning in the chamber when he returned. He wasburdened with several pictures of small size, which he spread out uponthe table, while Edith and Woodchuck both rose to gaze at them.
"There! there!" cried Edith, putting her finger upon one, "there isthe head of the old officer, though the attitude is different; andthere is the lady, too; but I do not see the portrait of the youngman!"
"Edith," said her father, laying his hand affectionately upon hers,and shaking his head sadly, "he is no longer young, but he standsbeside you, my child. That is the picture of my father; that, of mymother. Otaitsa must be your cousin. Poor Jessie! We have alwaysthought her dead, although her body was not found with that of herfather. Better had she been dead, probably."
"No, no, Prevost!" said Woodchuck. "Not a bit of it! Black Eagle madeher as kind a husband as ever was seen. You might have looked allEurope and America through, and not have found as good a one. Thenthink of all she did, too, in the place where she was. God sent herthere to make better people than she fo
und. From the time she went, tothe time she died, poor thing! there was no more war and bloodshed, orvery little of it. Then she got a Christian minister amongst them--atleast, he never would have been suffered to set his foot there if shehad not been Black Eagle's wife. It is a hard thing to tell what'sreally good, and what's really evil, in this world. For my part, Ithink, if everything is not exactly good--which very few of us wouldlike to say it is--yet good comes out of it; like a flower growing outof a dunghill; and there's no saying what good to the end of time thislady's going there may produce. Bad enough it was for her, I dare say,at first; but she got reconciled to it; so you mustn't say it wouldhave been better if she had died."
"It is strange, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, "what turns human fate willtake. That she, brought up in the midst of luxury, educated with theutmost refinement, sought and admired by all who knew her, shouldreject two of the most distinguished men in Europe to go to this wildland and marry an Indian savage! Men talk of fate and destiny, andthere are certainly strange turns of fortune, so beyond all humancalculation and regulation that the doctrine of the fatalist seemstrue."
"Do you not think, my dear father," said Edith, waking up from aprofound reverie, "that this strange discovery might be turned to somegreat advantage; that Walter, perhaps, might be saved without thenecessity of our poor friend here sacrificing his own life to deliverhim?"
"That's like a dear, good girl," said Woodchuck; "but I can tell you,it's no use."
"But," urged Edith, "Otaitsa ought to know, for Black Eagle certainlywould never slay the nephew of a wife so dear to him."
"It's no use," repeated Woodchuck, almost impatiently. "Don't youknow, Miss Edith, that Walter and the Blossom are in love with eachother, and that's worth all the blood relationship in the world.Sometimes it does not last as long, but while it does it's twice asstrong. Then, as to Black Eagle, he'd kill his own son, if the customsof his people required it. I guess it would only make him tomahawkpoor Walter the sooner, just to show that he would not let any humanfeeling stand in the way of their devilish practice. No! no! Muchbetter keep it quiet. It might do harm, for aught we can tell; it canand will do no good. Let that thing rest, my dear child. It's settledand decreed. I am ready now, and I shall never be so ready again. Letme take one more look at my mountains, and my lakes, and my rivers,and my woods, and I've done with this life. Then God, in His mercy,receive me into another. Amen. Hark! There is someone coming up at agood gallop. That noble young lord, I dare say."
It was as Woodchuck had supposed; and the moment after, LordH---- entered the room with a beaming look of joy and satisfaction inhis countenance. He held a packet of considerable size in his hand,and advanced at once to Mr. Prevost, saying: "My dear sir, I amrejoiced to present to you this letter, not alone because it will giveyou some satisfaction, but because it removes the stain of ingratitudefrom the country. His Majesty's present ministers are sensible thatyou have not received justice; that your long services to the countryin various ways--all that you have done, in short, to benefit andameliorate your race, and to advocate all that is good and noble--havebeen treated with long neglect, which amounts to an offence; and theynow offer, as some atonement, a position which may lead to wealth, anda distinction which, I trust, is but the step to more."
"What is it, George? What is it?" asked Edith, eagerly.
"It is, I am told," replied Lord H----, "in a letter which accompaniesthe packet; a commission as commissary general of the army here, andan offer of the rank of baronet."
"Thank God!" said Edith; and then, seeing a look of surprise at herearnestness come upon her noble lover's face, a bright smile playedround her lips for a moment, and she added: "I say thank God,George--not that I am glad my father should have such things, for Ihope and trust he will decline them both; but the very offer will healan old wound, by showing him that zealous exertions and the exerciseof high and noble qualities are not always to be treated with neglect,forgetfulness, and contempt. He will be glad of it, I am sure,whatever his decision may be."
"Now I understand you, my own love," answered Lord H----. "With regardto the baronetcy, he shall do as he will; but I must press himearnestly to accept the office tendered to him. To decline it mightshow some resentment. By accepting it he incurs no peril, and heserves his country; for from his knowledge of the people here, of thevery physical features of the land and its resources, and of thehabits and feelings of all classes, I believe no man could befound, with one or two exceptions, so well fitted for the task ashimself---- Ah! my good friend Captain Brooks, how do you do? I havemuch wished to see you lately, and to hear of your plans."
"I am as well as may be, my lord," replied Woodchuck, wringing in hisheavy grasp the hand which Lord H---- extended to him. "As for myplans, they are the same as ever; you did not doubt me, I am sure."
"I did not," replied Lord H----, gravely, and looking down, he fellinto a fit of thought. At length, looking up, he added: "And yet, mygood friend, I am glad you have had time for reflection, for since welast met I have somewhat reproached myself for at least tacitencouragement of an act, in the approval of which so many personalmotives mingle that one may well doubt one's self. Forgive me,Edith--forgive me, Mr. Prevost, if I ask our friend here if he haswell considered, and weighed in his own mind, calmly and reasonably,without bias, nay, without enthusiasm, whether there be any moralobligation on him to perform an act which I suppose he has told you hecontemplated."
"There is no forgiveness needed, my lord," said Mr. Prevost. "I wouldhave put the same question to him if he would have let me. Nay, more;I would have told him, whatever I might suffer by the result, that inmy judgment there was no moral obligation. Because he did ajustifiable act these Indians commit one that is unjustifiable, uponan innocent man. That can be no reason why he should sacrifice hislife to save the other. God forbid, that even for the love of my ownchild, I should deal in such a matter unjustly. I am no Romanfather--I pretend not to be such. If my own death will satisfy them,let them take the old tree, withered at the root, and spare thesapling, full of strength and promise; but let me not doom--let me notadvise a noble and an honest man to sacrifice himself from a toogenerous impulse."
"I do not know much of moral obligations," replied Woodchuck, gravely,"but I guess I have thought over the thing as much as e'er one of you.I have made up my mind, and just on one principle, and there let itrest, in God's name! I say to myself, 'Woodchuck, it's not right, isit, that anyone should suffer for what you ha' done?' 'No, it's not.''Well, is there any use talking of whether they've a right to make himsuffer for your act or not? They'll do it.' 'No, there's no usea-talking, because they'll do it. It's only shuffling off theconsequences of what you did upon another man's shoulders. You neverdid that, Woodchuck; don't do it now. Man might say, it's all fair;God might pardon it, but your own heart would never forgive it!'"
Edith sprang forward and took both his hands, with her beautiful eyesfull of tears. "God will prevent it!" she said, earnestly. "I havefaith in Him. He will deliver in our utmost need! He provided thePatriarch with an offering, and spared his son. He will find us ameans of escape if we but trust in Him."
"Miss Edith," replied Woodchuck, gravely, "He may or He may not,according to His own good pleasure; but of this I am sure, that thoughChrist died for our transgressions, we have no right to see anyoneelse suffer for our doings. I have read my Bible a great deal up thereon the hillside lately--more than I ever did before since I was alittle boy--and I am quite certain of what I'm about. It has been acomfort and a strength to me. It's all so clear--so very clear. Otherbooks one may not understand--one can't misunderstand that unless onetries very hard. And now, pray, let's have an end on't here. My mindis quite made up. There's no use of saying a word more."
All the rest were silent, and Edith left the room with the large tearsrolling over her cheeks.