"I understand you, Mabel, and have no hard feelings, I haven"t. I sometimes think I should like to live in your neighborhood, that I might look at your happiness; but, on the whole, it"s better I should quit the 55th altogether, and go back to the 60th, which is my natyve rigiment, as it might be. It would have been better, perhaps, had I never left it, though my sarvices were much wanted in this quarter, and I"d been with some of the 55th years agone; Sergeant Dunham, for instance, when he was in another corps. Still, Jasper, I do not regret that I"ve known you--"
"And me, Pathfinder!" impetuously interrupted Mabel; "do you regret having known _me_? Could I think so, I should never be at peace with myself."
"You, Mabel!" returned the guide, taking the hand of our heroine and looking up into her countenance with guileless simplicity, but earnest affection; "How could I be sorry that a ray of the sun came across the gloom of a cheerless day--that light has broken in upon darkness, though it remained so short a time? I do not flatter myself with being able to march quite so light-hearted as I once used to could, or to sleep as sound, for some time to come; but I shall always remember how near I was to being undeservedly happy, I shall. So far from blaming you, Mabel, I only blame myself for being so vain as to think it possible I could please such a creatur"; for sartainly you told me how it was, when we talked it over on the mountain, and I ought to have believed you then; for I do suppose it"s nat"ral that young women should know their own minds better than their fathers. Ah"s me! It"s settled now, and nothing remains but for me to take leave of you, that you may depart; I feel that Master Cap must be impatient, and there is danger of his coming on sh.o.r.e to look for us all."
"To take leave!" exclaimed Mabel.
"Leave!" echoed Jasper; "You do not mean to quit us, my friend?"
""Tis best, Mabel, "tis altogether best, Eau-douce; and it"s wisest. I could live and die in your company, if I only followed feeling; but, if I follow reason, I shall quit you here. You will go back to Oswego, and become man and wife as soon as you arrive,--for all that is determined with Master Cap, who hankers after the sea again, and who knows what is to happen,--while I shall return to the wilderness and my Maker. Come, Mabel," continued Pathfinder, rising and drawing nearer to our heroine, with grave decorum, "kiss me; Jasper will not grudge me one kiss; then we"ll part."
"Oh, Pathfinder!" exclaimed Mabel, falling into the arms of the guide, and kissing his cheeks again and again, with a freedom and warmth she had been far from manifesting while held to the bosom of Jasper; "G.o.d bless you, dearest Pathfinder! You"ll come to us hereafter. We shall see you again. When old, you will come to our dwelling, and let me be a daughter to you?"
"Yes, that"s it," returned the guide, almost gasping for breath; "I"ll try to think of it in that way. You"re more befitting to be my daughter than to be my wife, you are. Farewell, Jasper. Now we"ll go to the canoe; it"s time you were on board."
The manner in which Pathfinder led the way to the sh.o.r.e was solemn and calm. As soon as he reached the canoe, he again took Mabel by the hands, held her at the length of his own arms, and gazed wistfully into her face, until the unbidden tears rolled out of the fountains of feeling and trickled down his rugged cheeks in streams.
"Bless me, Pathfinder," said Mabel, kneeling reverently at his feet.
"Oh, at least bless me before we part!"
That untutored but n.o.ble-minded being did as she desired; and, aiding her to enter the canoe, seemed to tear himself away as one snaps a strong and obstinate cord. Before he retired, however, he took Jasper by the arm and led him a little aside, when he spoke as follows:--
"You"re kind of heart and gentle by natur", Jasper; but we are both rough and wild in comparison with that dear creatur". Be careful of her, and never show the roughness of man"s natur" to her soft disposition.
You"ll get to understand her in time; and the Lord, who governs the lake and the forest alike, who looks upon virtue with a smile and upon vice with a frown, keep you happy and worthy to be so!"
Pathfinder made a sign for his friend to depart, and he stood leaning on his rifle until the canoe had reached the side of the _Scud_. Mabel wept as if her heart would break; nor did her eyes once turn from the open spot in the glade, where the form of the Pathfinder was to be seen, until the cutter had pa.s.sed a point that completely shut out the island.
When last in view, the sinewy frame of this extraordinary man was as motionless as if it were a statue set up in that solitary place to commemorate the scenes of which it had so lately been the witness.
CHAPTER x.x.x.
Oh! let me only breathe the air, The blessed air that"s breath"d by thee; And, whether on its wings it bear Healing or death, "tis sweet to me!
MOORE.
Pathfinder was accustomed to solitude; but, when the _Scud_ had actually disappeared, he was almost overcome with a sense of his loneliness.
Never before had he been conscious of his isolated condition in the world; for his feelings had gradually been accustoming themselves to the blandishments and wants of social life; particularly as the last were connected with the domestic affections. Now, all had vanished, as it might be, in one moment; and he was left equally without companions and without hope. Even Chingachgook had left him, though it was but temporarily; still his presence was missed at the precise instant which might be termed the most critical in our hero"s life.
Pathfinder stood leaning on his rifle, in the att.i.tude described in the last chapter, a long time after the _Scud_ had disappeared. The rigidity of his limbs seemed permanent; and none but a man accustomed to put his muscles to the severest proof could have maintained that posture, with its marble-like inflexibility, for so great a length of time. At length he moved away from the spot; the motion of the body being preceded by a sigh that seemed to heave up from the very depths of his bosom.
It was a peculiarity of this extraordinary being that his senses and his limbs, for all practical purposes, were never at fault, let the mind be preoccupied with other interests as much as it might. On the present occasion neither of these great auxiliaries failed him; but, though his thoughts were exclusively occupied with Mabel, her beauty, her preference of Jasper, her tears, and her departure, he moved in a direct line to the spot where June still remained, which was the grave of her husband. The conversation that followed pa.s.sed in the language of the Tuscaroras, which Pathfinder spoke fluently; but, as that tongue is understood only by the extremely learned, we shall translate it freely into the English; preserving, as far as possible, the tone of thought of each interlocutor, as well as the peculiarities of manner. June had suffered her hair to fall about her face, had taken a seat on a stone which had been dug from the excavation made by the grave, and was hanging over the spot which contained the body of Arrowhead, unconscious of the presence of any other. She believed, indeed, that all had left the island but herself, and the tread of the guide"s moccasined foot was too noiseless rudely to undeceive her.
Pathfinder stood gazing at the woman for several minutes in mute attention. The contemplation of her grief, the recollection of her irreparable loss, and the view of her desolation produced a healthful influence on his own feelings; his reason telling him how much deeper lay the sources of grief in a young wife, who was suddenly and violently deprived of her husband, than in himself.
"Dew-of-June," he said solemnly, but with an earnestness which denoted the strength of his sympathy, "you are not alone in your sorrow. Turn, and let your eyes look upon a friend."
"June has no longer any friend!" the woman answered. "Arrowhead has gone to the happy hunting-grounds, and there is no one left to care for June.
The Tuscaroras would chase her from their wigwams; the Iroquois are hateful in her eyes, and she could not look at them. No! Leave June to starve over the grave of her husband."
"This will never do--this will never do. "Tis ag"in reason and right.
You believe in the Manitou, June?"
"He has hid his face from June because he is angry. He has left her alone to die."
"Listen to one who has had a long acquaintance with red natur", though he has a white birth and white gifts. When the Manitou of a pale-face wishes to produce good in a pale-face heart He strikes it with grief; for it is in our sorrows, June, that we look with the truest eyes into ourselves, and with the farthest-sighted eyes too, as respects right.
The Great Spirit wishes you well, and He has taken away the chief, lest you should be led astray by his wily tongue, and get to be a Mingo in your disposition, as you were already in your company."
"Arrowhead was a great chief," returned the woman proudly.
"He had his merits, he had; and he had his demerits, too. But June you are not desarted, nor will you be soon. Let your grief out--let it out, according to natur", and when the proper time comes I shall have more to say to you."
Pathfinder now went to his own canoe, and he left the island. In the course of the day June heard the crack of his rifle once or twice; and as the sun was setting he reappeared, bringing her birds ready cooked, and of a delicacy and flavor that might have tempted the appet.i.te of an epicure. This species of intercourse lasted a month, June obstinately refusing to abandon the grave of her husband all that time, though she still accepted the friendly offerings of her protector. Occasionally they met and conversed, Pathfinder sounding the state of the woman"s feelings; but the interviews were short, and far from frequent. June slept in one of the huts, and she laid down her head in security, for she was conscious of the protection of a friend, though Pathfinder invariably retired at night to an adjacent island, where he had built himself a hut.
At the end of the month, however, the season was getting to be too far advanced to render her situation pleasant to June. The trees had lost their leaves, and the nights were becoming cold and wintry. It was time to depart.
At this moment Chingachgook reappeared. He had a long and confidential interview on the island with his friend. June witnessed their movements, and she saw that her guardian was distressed. Stealing to his side, she endeavored to soothe his sorrow with a woman"s gentleness and with a woman"s instinct.
"Thank you, June, thank you!" he said; ""tis well meant, though it"s useless. But it is time to quit this place. To-morrow we shall depart.
You will go with us, for now you"ve got to feel reason."
June a.s.sented in the meek manner of an Indian woman, and she withdrew to pa.s.s the remainder of her time near the grave of Arrowhead. Regardless of the hour and the season, the young widow did not pillow her head during the whole of that autumnal night. She sat near the spot that held the remains of her husband, and prayed, in the manner of her people, for his success on the endless path on which he had so lately gone, and for their reunion in the land of the just. Humble and degraded as she would have seemed in the eyes of the sophisticated and unreflecting, the image of G.o.d was on her soul, and it vindicated its divine origin by aspirations and feelings that would have surprised those who, feigning more, feel less.
In the morning the three departed, Pathfinder earnest and intelligent in all he did, the Great Serpent silent and imitative, and June meek, resigned, but sorrowful. They went in two canoes, that of the woman being abandoned: Chingachgook led the way, and Pathfinder followed, the course being up stream. Two days they paddled westward, and as many nights they encamped on islands. Fortunately the weather became mild, and when they reached the lake it was found smooth and gla.s.sy as a pond.
It was the Indian summer, and the calms, and almost the blandness of June, slept in the hazy atmosphere.
On the morning of the third day they pa.s.sed the mouth of the Oswego, where the fort and the sleeping ensign invited them in vain to enter.
Without casting a look aside, Chingachgook paddled past the dark waters of the river, and Pathfinder still followed in silent industry. The ramparts were crowded with spectators; but Lundie, who knew the persons of his old friends, refused to allow them to be even hailed.
It was noon when Chingachgook entered a little bay where the _Scud_ lay at anchor, in a sort of roadstead. A small ancient clearing was on the sh.o.r.e; and near the margin of the lake was a log dwelling, recently and completely, though rudely fitted up. There was an air of frontier comfort and of frontier abundance around the place, though it was necessarily wild and solitary. Jasper stood on the sh.o.r.e; and when Pathfinder landed, he was the first to take him by the hand. The meeting was simple, but very cordial. No questions were asked, it being apparent that Chingachgook had made the necessary explanations. Pathfinder never squeezed his friend"s hand more cordially than in this interview; and he even laughed cordially in his face as he told him how happy and well he appeared.
"Where is she, Jasper? Where is she?" the guide at length whispered, for at first he had seemed to be afraid to trust himself with the question.
"She is waiting for us in the house, my dear friend, where you see that June has already hastened before us."
"June may use a lighter step to meet Mabel, but she cannot carry a lighter heart. And so, lad, you found the chaplain at the garrison, and all was soon settled?"
"We were married within a week after we left you, and Master Cap departed next day. You have forgotten to inquire about your friend Salt.w.a.ter."
"Not I, not I; the Sarpent has told me all that: and then I love to hear so much of Mabel and her happiness, I do. Did the child smile or did she weep when the ceremony was over?"
"She did both, my friend; but--"
"Yes, that"s their natur", tearful and cheerful. Ah"s me! They are very pleasant to us of the woods; and I do believe I should think all right, whatever Mabel might do. And do you think, Jasper, that she thought of me at all on that joyful occasion?"
"I know she did, Pathfinder; and she thinks of you and talks of you daily, almost hourly. None love you as we do."
"I know few love me better than yourself, Jasper: Chingachgook is perhaps, now, the only creatur" of whom I can say that. Well, there"s no use in putting it off any longer; it must be done, and may as well be done at once; so, Jasper, lead the way, and I"ll endivor to look upon her sweet countenance once more."