"Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame;
Thy private feasting to a public fast;
Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name;
Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter worm wood taste:
Thy violent vanities can never last."
Shakespeare, Rape of Lucrece, 11. 890-94.
Judith was waiting the return of Deerslayer on the platform, with stifled
impatience, when the latter reached the hut. Hist and Hetty were both in a
deep sleep, on the bed usually occupied by the two daughters of the house,
and the Delaware was stretched on the floor of the adjoining room, his rifle
at his side, and a blanket over him, already dreaming of the events of the
last few days. There was a lamp burning in the Ark, for the family was
accustomed to indulge in this luxury on extraordinary occasions, and
possessed the means, the vessel being of a form and material to render it
probable it had once been an occupant of the chest.
As soon as the girl got a glimpse of the canoe, she ceased her hurried walk
up and down the platform, and stood ready to receive the young man, whose
return she had now been anxiously expecting for some time. She helped him to
fasten the canoe, and by aiding in the other little similar employ ments,
manifested her desire to reach a moment of liberty as soon as possible. When
this was done, in answer to an inquiry of his, she informed him of the manner
in which their com panions had disposed of themselves. He listened
attentively, for the manner of the girl was so earnest and impressive as to
apprise him that she had something on her mind of more than common concern.
"And now, Deerslayer," Judith continued, "you see I have lighted the lamp,
and put it in the cabin of the Ark. That is never done with us, unless on
great occasions, and I consider this night as the most important of my life.
Will you follow me and see what I have to show you-hear what I have to say."
The hunter was a little surprised, but, making no objec tions, both were soon
in the scow, and in the room that contamed the light. Here two stools were
placed at the side of the chest, with the lamp on another, and a table near
by to receive the different articles as they might be brought to view. This
arrangement had its rise in the feverish impatience of the girl, which could
brook no delay that it was in her power to obviate. Even all the padlocks
were removed, and it only re mained to raise the heavy lid, again, to expose
all the treasures of this long secreted hoard.
"I see, in part, what all this means," observed Deerslayer- "yes, I see
through it, in part. But why is not Hetty present; now, Thomas Hurter is
gone, she is one of the owners of these cur'osities, and ought to see them
opened and handled."
"Hetty sleeps-" answered Judith, huskily. "Happily for her, fine clothes and
riches have no charms. Besides she has this night given her share of all that
the chest may hold, to me, that I may do with it as I please."
"Is poor Hetty composs enough for that, Judith?" de manded the just-minded
young man. "It's a good rule and a righteous one, never to take when them
that give don't know the valie of their gifts; and such as god has visited
heavily in their wits, ought to be dealt with as carefully as children that
have n't yet come to their understandings."
Judith was hurt at this rebuke, coming from the person it did, but she would
have felt it far more keenly had not her conscience fully acquitted her of
any unjust intentions to wards her feeble-minded but confiding sister. It was
not a moment, however, to betray any of her usual mountings of the spirit,
and she smothered the passing sensation in the de sire to come to the great
object she had in view.
"Hetty will not be wronged," she mildly answered; "she even knows not only
what I am about to do, Deerslayer, but why I do it. So take your seat, raise
the lid of the chest, and this time we will go to the bottom. I shall be
disappointed if something is not found to tell us more of the history of
Thomas Hurter and my mother."
"Why Thomas Hutter, Judith, and not your father? The I dead ought to meet
with as much reverence as the living!"
"I have long suspected that Thomas Hutter was not my father, though I did
think he might have been Hetty's, but now we know he was the father of
neither. He acknowledged that much in his dying moments. I am old enough to
remember better things than we have seen on this lake, though they are so
faintly impressed on my memory, that the earlier part of my life seems like a
dream."
"Dreams are but miserable guides when one has to detar mine about realities,
Judith," returned the other, admonish ingly. "Fancy nothing, and hope nothing
on their account, though I've known chiefs that thought 'em useful."
"I expect nothing for the future, from them, my good friend, but cannot help
remembering what has been. This is idle, however, when half an hour of
examination may tell us all, or even more than I want to know."
Deerslayer, who comprehended the girl's impatience, now took his seat, and
proceeded once more to bring to light the different articles that the chest
contained. As a matter of course, all that had been previously examined were
found where they had been last deposited, and they excited much less
interest, or comment, than when formerly exposed to view. Even Judith laid
aside the rich brocade with an air of indifference, for she had a far higher
aim before her than the indulgence of vanity, and was impatient to come at
the still hidden, or rather unknown, treasures.
"All these we have seen before," she said, "and will not stop to open. The
bundle under your hand, Deerslayer, is a fresh one; that we will look into.
God send it may contain something to tell poor Hetty and myself, who we
really are!"
"Ay, if some bundles could speak, they might tell wonderful secrets,"
returned the young man deliberately undoing the folds of another piece of
course canvass, in order to come at the contents of the roll that lay on his
knees: "though this doesn't seem to be one of that family, seeing 'tis
neither more nor less than a sort of flag, though of what nation, it passes
my l'arnin' to say."
"That flag must have some meaning to it-" Judith hurriedly interposed. "Open
it wider, Deerslayer, that we may see the colours."
"Well, I pity the ensign that has to shoulder this cloth, and to parade it
about on the field. Why 'tis large enough, Judith,to make a dozen of them
colours the King's officers set so much store by These can be no ensign's
colours, but a gin'ral's!"
"A ship might carry it, Deerslayer, and ships I know do use such things. Have
you never heard any fearful stories about Thomas Hurter's having once been
concerned with the peo ple they call buccaneers?"
"Buck-ah-near! Not I-not I-I never heard him mentioned as good at a buck far
off, or near by. Hurry Harry did till me something about its being supposed
that he had formerly, in some way or other, dealings with sartain sea rob
bers, but, Lord, Judith, it can't surely give you any satisfaction to make
out that ag'in your mother's own hus band, though he isn't your father."
"Any thing will give me satisfaction that tells me who I am, and helps to
explain the dreams of childhood. My mother's husband! Yes, he must have been
that, though why a woman like her, should have chosen a man like him, is more
than mortal reason can explain. You never saw mother, Deerslayer, and can't
feel the vast, vast difference there was between them!"
"Such things do happen, howsever;-yes, they do happen; though why providence
lets them come to pass, is more than I understand. I've knew the f'ercest
warriors with the gentlest wives of any in the tribe, and awful scolds fall
to the lot of Injins fit to be missionaries."
"That was not it, Deerslayer; that was not it. Oh! if it should prove that-
no; I can not wish she should not have been his wife at all. That no daughter
can wish for her own mother! Go on, now, and let us see what the square
looking bundle holds."
Deerslayer complied, and he found that it contained a small trunk of pretty
workmanship, but fastened. The next point was to find a key; but, search
proving ineffectual, it was determined to force the lock. This Deerslayer
soon effected by the aid of an iron instrument, and it was found that the
interior was nearly filled with papers. Many were letters; some fragments of
manuscripts, memorandums, accounts, and other similar documents. The hawk
does not pounce upon the chicken with a more sudden swoop, than Judith sprang
forward to seize this mine of hitherto concealed knowledge. Her education, as
the reader will have perceived, was far superior to her situation in life,
and her eye glanced over page after page of the letters, with a readiness
that her schooling supplied, and with an avidity that found its origin in her
feelings. At first, it was evident that the girl was gratified; and we may
add with reason, for the letters written by females, in innocence and
affection, were of a character to cause her to feel proud of those with whom
she had every reason to think she was closely connected by the ties of blood.
It does not come within the scope of our plan to give more of these epistles,
however, than a general idea of their contents, and this will best be done by
describing the effect they produced on the manner, appearance, and feeling of
her who was so eagerly perusing them.
It has been said, already, that Judith was much gratified with the letters
that first met her eye. They contained the correspondence of an affectionate
and inteffigent mother, to an absent daughter, with such allusions to the
answers, as served, in a great measure, to fill up the vacuum left by the
replies. They were not without admonitions and warnings, however, and Judith
felt the blood mounting to her temples, and a cold shudder succeeding, as she
read one in which the propriety of the daughter's indulging in as much
intimacy, as had evidently been described in one of the daughter's own
letters, with an officer "who came from Europe, and who could hardly be
supposed to wish to form an honorable connection in America," was rather
coldly commented on by the mother. What rendered it singular, was the fact
that the signatures had been carefully cut from every one of these letters,
and wherever a name occurred in the body of the epistles, it had been erased
with so much diligence as to render it impossible to read it. They had all
been enclosed in envelopes, according to the fashion of the age, and not an
address either was to be found. Still the letters themselves had been
religiously pre served, and Judith thought she could discover traces of tears
remaining on several. She now remembered to have seen the little trunk in her
mother's keeping, previously to her death, and she supposed it had first been
deposited in the chest, along with the other forgotten, or concealed objects,
when the letters could no longer contribute to that parent's grief or
happiness.
Next came another bundle, and these were filled with the protestations of
love, written with passion certainly, but also with that deceit which men so
often think it justifiable to use to the other sex. Judith had shed tears
abundantly over the first packet, but now she felt a sentiment of indignation
and pride better sustaining her. Her hand shook, however, and cold shivers
again passed through her frame, as she discovered a few points of strong
resemblance between these letters and some it had been her own fate to
receive. Once, indeed, she laid the packet down, bowed her head to her knees,
and seemed nearly convulsed. All this time Deerslayer sat a silent, but
attentive observer of every thing that passed. As Judith read a letter, she
put it into his hands to hold, until she could peruse the next; but this
served in no degree to enlighten her companion, as he was totally unable to
read. Nevertheless he was not entirely at fault, in discovering the passions
that were contending in the bosom of the fair creature by his side, and, as
occasional sentences escaped her in murmurs, he was nearer the truth, in his
divinations, or conjectures, than the girl would have been pleased at
discovering.
Judith had commenced with the earliest letters, luckily for a ready
comprehension of the tale they told, for they were carefully arranged in
chronological order, and to any one who would take the trouble to peruse
them, would have revealed a sad history of gratified passion, coldness, and
finally of aversion. As she obtained the clue to their import, her impatience
would not admit of delay, and she soon got to glancing her eyes over a page,
by way of coming at the truth, in the briefest manner possible. By adopting
this expedient, one to which all who are eager to arrive at results, without
encumbering themselves with details, are so apt to resort, Judith made a
rapid progress in these melancholy revelations of her mother's failing and
punishment. She saw that the period of her own birth was distinctly referred
to, and even learned that the homely name she bore, was given her by the
father, of whose person she retained so faint an impression as to resemble a
dream. This name was not obliterated from the text of the letters, but stood
as if nothing was to be gained by erasing it. Hetty's birth was mentioned
once, and in that instance the name was the mother's, but ere this period was
reached came the signs of coldness, shadowing forth the desertion that was so
soon to follow. It was in this stage of the correspondence that her mother
had recourse to the plan of copying her own epistles. They were but few, but
were eloquent with the feelings of blighted affection, and contrition. Judith
sobbed over them, until again and again she felt compelled to lay them aside
from sheer physical in a inability to see; her eyes being literally obscured
with tears. Still she returned to the task, with increasing interest, and
finally succeeded in reaching the end of the latest communication that had
probably ever passed between her parents.
All this occupied fully an hour, for near a hundred letters were glanced at,
and some twenty had been closely read. The truth now shone clear upon the
acute mind of Judith, so far as her own birth and that of Hetty, were
concerned. She sickened at the conviction, and for the moment the rest of the
world seemed to be cut off from her, and she had now additional reasons for
wishing to pass the remainder of her life on the lake, where she had already
seen so many bright and so many sorrowing days.
There yet remained more letters to examine. Judith found these were a
correspondence between her mother and Thomas Hovey. The originals of both
parties were carefully arranged, letter and answer, side by side; and they
told the early history of the connection between the ill-assorted pair far
more plainly than Judith wished to learn it. Her mother made the advances
towards a marriage, to the surprise, not to say horror of her daughter, and
she actually found a relief when she discovered traces of what struck her as
insanity- or a morbid desperation, bordering on that dire calamity- in the
earlier letters of that ill-fated woman. The answers of Hovey were coarse and
illiterate, though they manifested a sufficient desire to obtain the hand of
a woman of singular personal attractions, and whose great error he was
willing to overlook for the advantage of possessing one, every way so much
his superior, and, who, it also appeared was not altogether destitute of
money. The remainder of this part of the correspondence was brief, and it was
soon confined to a few communications on business, in which the miserable
wife hastened the absent husband in his preparations to abandon a world,
which there was a sufficient reason to think was as dangerous to one of the
parties, as it was disagreeable to the other. But a sincere expression had
escaped her mother, by which Judith could get a clue to the motives that had
induced her to marry Hovey, or Hutter, and this she found was that feeling of
resentment which so often tempts the injured to inflict wrongs on themselves,
by way of heaping coals on the heads of those through whom they have
suffered. Judith had enough of the spirit of that mother, to comprehend this
sentiment, and for a moment did she see the exceeding folly which permitted
such revengeful feelings to get the ascendancy.
There, what may be called the historical part of the papers ceased. Among the
loose fragments, however, was an old newspaper that contained a proclamation
offering a reward for the apprehension of certain free-booters by name, among
which was that of Thomas Hovey. The attention of the girl was drawn to the
proclamation and to this particular name, by the circumstance that black
lines had been drawn under both, in ink. Nothing else was found among the
papers that could lead to a discovery of either the name or the place of
residence of the wife of Hurter. All the dates, signatures, and addresses,
had been cut from the letters, and wherever a word occurred in the body of
the communications, that might furnish a clue, it was scrupulously erased.
Thus Judith found all her hopes of ascertaining who her parents were,
defeated, and she was obliged to fall back on her own resources and habits
for every thing connected with the future. Her recollection of her mother's
manners, conversation, and sufferings filled up many a gap in the historical
facts she had now discovered, and the truth, in its outlines, stood
sufficiently distinct before her, to take away all desire, indeed, to possess
any more details. Throwing herself back in her seat, she simply desired her
companion to finish the examination of the other articles in the chest, as it
might yet contain something of importance.
"I'll do it, Judith; I'll do it," returned the patient Deerslayer, "but if
there's many more letters to read, we shall see the sun ag'in, afore you've
got through with the reading of communications on business, in which the
miserable wife hastened the absent husband in his preparations to abandon a
world, which there was a sufficient reason to think was as dangerous to one
of the parties, as it was disagreeable to the other. But a sincere expression
had escaped her mother, by which Judith could get a clue to the motives that
had induced her to marry Hovey, or Hutter, and this she found was that
feeling of resentment which so often tempts the injured to inflict wrongs on
themselves, by way of heaping coals on the heads of those through whom they
have suffered. Judith had enough of the spirit of that mother, to comprehend
this sentiment, and for a moment did she see the exceeding folly which
permitted such revengeful feelings to get the ascendancy.
There, what may be called the historical part of the papers ceased. Among the
loose fragments, however, was an old newspaper that contained a proclamation
offering a reward for the apprehension of certain free-booters by name, among
which was that of Thomas Hovey. The attention of the girl was drawn to the
proclamation and to this particular name, by the circumstance that black
lines had been drawn under both, in ink. Nothing else was found among the
papers that could lead to a discovery of either the name or the place of
residence of the wife of Hurter. All the dates, signatures, and addresses,
had been cut from the letters, and wherever a word occurred in the body of
the communications, that might furnish a clue, it was scrupulously erased.
Thus Judith found all her hopes of ascertaining who her parents were,
defeated, and she was obliged to fall back on her own resources and habits
for every thing connected with the future. Her recollection of her mother's
manners, conversation, and sufferings filled up many a gap in the historical
facts she had now discovered, and the truth, in its outlines, stood
sufficiently distinct before her, to take away all desire, indeed, to possess
any more details. Throwing herself back in her seat, she simply desired her
companion to finish the examination of the other articles in the chest, as it
might yet contain something of importance.
"I'll do it, Judith; I'll do it," returned the patient Deerslayer, "but if
there's many more letters to read, we shall see the sun ag'in, afore you've
got through with the reading of much as if the bargain was made, and
Rivenoak, or any of the other vagabonds, was here to accept and close the
treaty, there's two principal reasons why it can never come to pass, which
may be as well told at once, in order no onlikely ex pectations may be raised
in you, or any onjustiflable hopes in me."
"What reason can there be, if Hetty and I are willing to part with the
trifles for your sake, and the savages are willing to receive them?"
"That's it, Judith-you've got the idees, but they're a little out of their
places, as if a hound should take the back'ard instead of the leading scent.
That the Mingos will be willing to receive them things, or any more like 'em,
you may have to offer is probable enough, but whether they'll pay valie for
'em, is quite another matter. Ask yourself, Judith, if any one should send
you a message to say that, for such or such a price, you and Hetty might have
that chist and all it holds, whether you'd think it worth your while to waste
many words on the bargain?"
"But this chest and all it holds, are already ours; there is no reason why we
should purchase what is already our own."
"Just so the Mingos caculate! They say the chist is theirn, already; or, as
good as theirn, and they'll not thank anybody for the key."
"I understand you, Deerslayer; surely we are yet in posses sion of the lake,
and we can keep possession of it, until Hurry sends troops to drive off the
enemy. This we may certainly do, provided you will stay with us, instead of
going back and giving yourself up a prisoner, again, as you now seem deter
mined on".
"That Hurry Harry should talk in thisaway, is nat'ral, and according to the
gifts of the man. He knows no better, and, therefore, he is little likely to
feel, or to act any better; but, Judith, I put it to your heart and
conscience-would you, could you think of me as favorably, as I hope and
believe you now do, was I to forget my furlough and not go back to the camp?"
"To think more favorably of you than I now do, Deerslayer, would not be easy;
but I might continue to think as favor ably-at least it seems so-I hope I
could, for, a world would n't tempt me to let you do any thing that might
change my real opinion of you."
"Then do n't try to entice me to overlook my furlough, gal! -A furlough is a
sacred thing among warriors and men that carry their lives in their hands, as
we of the forests do, and what a grievous disapp'intment would it be to old
Tamenund, and to Uncas, the father of the Sarpent, and to my other fri'nds in
the tribe, if I was so to disgrace myself, on my very first war-path? This
you will pairceive, moreover, Judith, is without laying any stress on nat'ral
gifts, and a white man's duties, to say nothing of conscience. The last is
king with me, and I try never to dispute his orders."
"I believe you are right, Deerslayer," returned the girl, after a little
reflection and in a saddened voice: "a man like you, ought not to act, as the
selfish and dishonest would be apt to act; you must, indeed, go back. We will
talk no more of this, then. Should I persuade you to any thing for which you
would be sorry hereafter, my own regret would not be less than yours. You
shall not have it to say, Judith-I scarce know by what name to call myself,
now!"
"And why not?-Why not, gal? Children take the names of their parents,
nat'rally, and by a sort of gift, like, and why should n't you and Hetty do,
as others have done afore ye? Hutter was the old man's name, and Hurter
should be the name of his darters; -at least until you are given away in
lawful and holy wedlock."
"I am Judith, and Judith only," returned the girl posi tively-"until the law
gives me a right to another name. Never will I use that of Thomas Hurter
again; nor, with my consent, shall Hetty! Hurter was not even his own name, I
find, but had he a thousand rights to it, it would give none to me. He was
not my father, thank heaven; though I may have no reason to be proud of him
that was!"
"This is strange!" said Deerslayer, looking steadily at the excited girl,
anxious to know more, but unwilling to inquire into matters that did not
properly concern him; "yes, this is very strange and oncommon! Thomas Hurter
was n't Thomas Hurter, and his darters were n't his darters! Who, then, could
Thomas Hurter be, and who are his darters?"
"Did you never hear any thing whispered against the former life of this
person, Deerslayer?" demanded Judith- "Passing, as I did, for his child, such
reports reached even me."
"I'll not deny it, Judith; no, I'll not deny it. Sartain things have been
said, as I've told you, but I'm not very credible as to reports. Young as I
am, I've lived long enough to l'am there's two sorts of characters in the
world-them that is 'arned by deeds, and them that is 'arned by tongues, and
so I prefar to see and judge for myself, instead of letting every jaw that
chooses to wag become my judgment. Hurry Harry spoke pretty plainly of the
whole family, as we journeyed this-a-way, and he did hint something
consarning Thomas Hutter's having been a free-liver on the water, in his
younger days. By free-liver, I mean that he made free to live on other men's
goods."
"He told you he was a pirate-there is no need of mincing matters between
friends. Read that, Deerslayer, and you will see that he told you no more
than the truth. This Thomas Hovey was the Thomas Hutter you knew, as is seen
by these letters."
As Judith spoke, with a flushed cheek and eyes dazzling with the brilliancy
of excitement, she held the newspaper towards her companion, pointing to the
proclamation of a Colonial Governor, already mentioned.
"Bless you, Judith!" answered the other laughing, "you might as well ask me
to print that-or, for that matter to write it. My edication has been
altogether in the woods; the only book I read, or care about reading, is the
one which God has opened afore all his creatur's in the noble forests, broad
lakes, rolling rivers, blue skies, and the winds and tempests, and sunshine,
and other glorious marvels of the land! This book I can read, and I find it
full of wisdom and knowledge."
"I crave your pardon, Deerslayer," said Judith, earnestly, more abashed than
was her wont, in finding that she had in advertently made an appeal that
might wound her compan ion's pride. "I had forgotten your manner of life, and
least of all did I wish to hurt your feelings."
"Hurt my feelin's?-Why should it hurt my feelin's to ask me to read, when I
can't read. I'm a hunter-and I may now begin to say a warrior, and no
missionary, and therefore books and papers are of no account with such as I-
No, no-Judith," and here the young man laughed cordially, "not even for wads,
seeing that your true deerkiller always uses the hide of a fa'a'n, if he's
got one, or some other bit of leather suitably prepared. There's some that do
say, all that stands in print is true, in which case I'll own an unl'arned
man must be somewhat of a loser; nevertheless, it can't be truer than that
which God has printed with his own hand, in the sky, and the woods, and the
rivers, and the springs."
"Well, then, Hutter, or Hovey, was a pirate, and being no father of mine, I
cannot wish to call him one. His name shall no longer be my name."
"If you dislike the name of that man, there's the name of your mother,
Judith. Hem may sarve you just as good a turn."
"I do not know it. I've look'd through those papers, Deer-slayer, in the hope
of finding some hint, by which I might discover who my mother was, but there
is no more trace of the past, in that respect, than the bird leaves in the
air."
"That's both oncommon, and onreasonable. Parents are bound to give their
offspring a name, even though they give 'em nothing else. Now I come of a
humble stock, though we have white gifts and a white narur', but we are not
so poorly off, as to have no name. Bumppo we are called, and I've heard it
said-" a touch of human vanity glowing on his cheek, "that the time has been
when the Bumppos had more standing and note among mankind, than they have
just now."
"They never deserved them more, Deerslayer, and the name is a good one;
either Herty, or myself, would a thousand times rather be called Hetty
Bumppo, or Judith Bumppo, than to be called Hetty or Judith Hutter."
"That's a moral impossible," returned the hunter, good humouredly, "onless
one of you should so far demean herself as to marry me."
Judith could not refrain from smiling, when she found how simply and
naturally the conversation had come round to the very point at which she had
aimed to bring it. Although far from unfeminine or forward, either in her
feelings, or her habits, the girl was goaded by a sense of wrongs not
altogether merited, incited by the hopelessness of a future that seemed to
contain no resting place, and still more influenced by feelings that were as
novel to her, as they proved to be active and engrossing. The opening was too
good, therefore, to be neglected, though she came to the subject with much of
the indirectness and perhaps, justifiable, address of a woman.
"I do not think Hetty will ever marry, Deerslayer," she said, "and if your
name is to be borne by either of us, it must be borne by me."
"There's been handsome women too, they tell me, among the Bumppos, Judith,
afore now, and should you take up with the name, oncommon as you be, in this
particular, them that knows the family won't be altogether surprised."
"This is not talking as becomes either of us, Deerslayer, for whatever is
said on such a subject, between man and woman, should be said seriously, and
in sincerity of heart. Forgetting the shame that ought to keep girls silent,
until spoken to, in most cases, I will deal with you as frankly as I know one
of your generous nature will most like to be dealt by. Can you- do you think,
Deerslayer, that you could be happy with such a wife as a woman like myself
would make?"
"A woman like you, Judith! But where's the sense in trifling about such a
thing?-A woman like you, that is handsome enough to be a captain's lady, and
fine enough, and so far as I know edicated enough, would be little apt to
think of be coming my wife. I suppose young gals that feel themselves to be
smart, and know themselves to be handsome, find a sartain satisfaction in
passing their jokes ag'in them that's neither, like a poor Delaware hunter."
This was said good naturedly, but not without a betrayal of feeling which
showed that some thing like mortified sensibility was blended with the reply.
Nothing could have occurred more likely to awaken all Judith's generous
regrets, or to aid her in her purpose, by adding the stimulant of a
disinterested desire to atone, to her other impulses, and cloaking all under
a guise so winning and natural, as greatly to lessen the unpleasant feature
of a forwardness unbecoming the sex.
"You do me injustice if you suppose I have any such thought, or wish," she
answered, earnestly. "Never was I more serious in my life, or more willing to
abide by any agreement, that we may make to-night. I have had many suit ors,
Deerslayer-nay, scarce an unmarried trapper or hunter has been in at the Lake
these four years, who has not offered to take me away with him, and I fear
some that were married, too-"
"Ay, I'll warrant that!" interrupted the other-"I'll warrant all that! Take
'em as a body, Judith, 'arth don't hold a set of men more given to
theirselves, and less given to God and the law."
"Not one of them would I-could I listen to; happily for myself perhaps, has
it been that such was the case. There have been well looking youths among
them too, as you may have seen in your acquaintance, Henry March."
"Yes, Harry is sightly to the eye, though, to my idees, less so to the
judgment. I thought, at first, you meant to have him, Judith, I did; but
afore he went, it was easy enough to verify that the same lodge would n't be
big enough for you both."
"You have done me justice in that at least, Deerslayer. Hurry is a man I
could never marry, though he were ten times more comely to the eye, and a
hundred times more stout of heart, than he really is."
"Why not, Judith, why not? I own I'm cur'ous to know why a youth like Hurry
should n't find favor with a maiden like you?"
"Then you shall know, Deerslayer," returned the girl, gladly availing herself
of the opportunity of indirectly extol ling the qualities which had so
strongly interested her in her listener; hoping by these means covertly to
approach the sub ject nearest her heart. "In the first place, looks in a man
are of no importance with a woman, provided he is manly, and not disfigured,
or deformed."
"There I can't altogether agree with you," returned the other thoughtfully,
for he had a very humble opinion of his own personal appearance; "I have
noticed that the comeliest warriors commonly get the best-looking maidens of
the tribe, for wives, and the Sarpent, yonder, who is sometimes won derful in
his paint, is a gineral favorite with all the Delaware young women, though he
takes to Hist, himself, as if she was the only beauty on 'arth!"
"It may be so with Indians; but it is different with white girls. So long as
a young man has a straight and manly frame, that promises to make him able to
protect a woman, and to keep want from the door, it is all they ask of the
figure. Giants like Hurry may do for grenadiers, but are of little account as
lovers. Then as to the face, an honest look, one that answers for the heart
within, is of more value than any shape or colour, or eyes, or teeth, or
trifles like them. The last may do for girls, but who thinks of them at all,
in a hunter, or a warrior, or a husband? -If there are women so silly, Judith
is not among them."
"Well, this is wonderful! I always thought that handsome liked handsome, as
riches love riches!"
"It may be so with you men, Deerslayer, but it is not always so with us
women. We like stout-hearted men, but we wish to see them modest; sure on a
hunt, or the war-path, ready to die for the right, and unwilling to yield to
the wrong. Above all we wish for honesty-tongues that are not used to say
what the mind does not mean, and hearts that feel a little for others, as
well as for themselves. A true-hearted girl could die for such a husband!
while the boaster, and the double-tongued suitor gets to be as hateful to the
sight, as he is to the mind."
Judith spoke bitterly, and with her usual force, but her listener was too
much struck with the novelty of the sensations he experienced to advert to
her manner. There was something so soothing to the humility of a man of his
temperament, to hear qualities that he could not but know he possessed
himself, thus highly extolled by the loveliest female he had ever beheld,
that, for the moment, his faculties seemed suspended in a natural and
excusable pride. Then it was that the idea of the possibility of such a
creature as Judith becoming his companion for life, first crossed his mind.
The image was so pleasant, and so novel, that he continued completely
absorbed by it, for more than a minute, totally regardless of the beautiful
reality that was seated before him, watching the expression of his upright
and truth-teffing countenance with a keenness that gave her a very fair, if
not an absolutely accurate clue to his thoughts. Never before had so pleasing
a vision floated before the mind's eye of the young hunter, but, accustomed
most to practical things, and little addicted to submitting to the power of
his imagination, even while possessed of so much true poetical feeling in
connection with natural objects in particular, he soon recovered his reason,
and smiled at his own weakness, as the fancied picture faded from his mental
sight, and left him the simple, untaught, but highly moral being he was,
seated in the Ark of Thomas Hurter, at midnight, with the lovely countenance
of its late owner's reputed daughter, beaming on him with anxious scrutiny,
by the light of the solitary lamp.
"You're wonderful handsome, and enticing, and pleasing to look on, Judith!"
he exclaimed, in his simplicity, as fact resumed its ascendency over fancy.
"Wonderful! I do n't remember ever to have seen so beautiful a gal, even
among the Delawares; and I'm not astonished that Hurry Harry went away soured
as well as disapp'inted!"
"Would you have had me, Deerslayer, become the wife of such a man as Henry
March?"
"There's that which is in his favor, and there's that which is ag'in him. To
my taste, Hurry would n't make the best of husbands, but I fear that the
tastes of most young women, hereaway, would n't be so hard upon him."
"No-no-Judith without a name, would never consent to be called Judith March!
Any thing would be better than that."
"Judith Bumppo would n't sound as well, gal; and there's many names that
would fall short of March, in pleasing the ear."
"Ah! Deerslayer, the pleasantness of the sound, in such cases, does n't come
through the ear, but through the heart. Every thing is agreeable, when the
heart is satisfied. Were Natty Bumppo, Henry March, and Henry March, Natty
Bumppo, I might think the name of March better than it is; or were he, you, I
should fancy the name of Bumppo, horrible!"
"That's just it-yes, that's the reason of the matter. Now, I'm nat'rally
avarse to sarpents, and I hate even the word, which, the missionaries tell
me, comes from human natur', on account of a sartain sarpent at the creation
of the 'arth, that outwitted the first woman; yet, ever since Chingachgook
them! Two good hours have you been looking at them bits of papers!"
"They tell me of my parents, Deerslayer, and have settled my plans for life.
A girl may be excused who reads about her own father and mother, and that too
for the first time in her life. I am sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Never mind me, gal, never mind me. It matters little whether I sleep or
watch; but, though you be pleasant to look at, and are so handsome, Judith,
it is not altogether agreeable to sit so long to behold you shedding tears. I
know that tears do n't kill, and that some people are better for shedding a
few, now and then, especially women, but I'd rather see you smile, any time,
Judith, than see you weep."
This gallant speech was rewarded with a sweet, though a melancholy smile, and
then the girl again desired her companion to finish the examination of the
chest. The search necessarily continued some time, during which Judith
collected her thoughts, and regained her composure. She took no part in the
search, leaving every thing to the young man, looking listlessly, herself, at
the different articles that came uppermost. Nothing further of much interest,
or value, however, was found. A sword or two, such as were then worn by
gentlemen, some buckles of silver, or so richly plated as to appear silver,
and a few handsome articles of female dress composed the principal
discoveries. It struck both Judith and the Deer-slayer notwithstanding, that
some of these things might be made useful in effecting a negotiation with the
Iroquois, though the latter saw a difficulty in the way that was not so
apparent to the former. The conversation was first renewed in connection with
this point.
"And now, Deerslayer," said Judith, "we may talk of yourself, and of the
means of getting you out of the hands of the Hurons. Any part, or all of what
you have seen in the chest will be cheerfully given by me and Hetty, to set
you at liberty."
"Well, that's ginerous-yes, 'tis downright free-hearted, and free-handed, and
ginerous. This is the way with women; when they take up a fri'ndship, they do
nothing by halves, but are as willing to part with their property, as if it
had no valie in their eyes. Howsever, while I thank you both, just as natur'
gives in the free air, and the forest-now, if both these men stood here, as
suitors for your feelin's, which do you think would win your favor?"
Judith's fine face flushed, for the picture that her compan. ion had so
simply drawn of a gay officer of the garrisons had once been particularly
grateful to her imagination, though experience and disappointment had not
only chilled all her affections, but given them a backward current, and the
passing image had a momentary influence on her feelings; but the mounting
colour was succeeded by a paleness so deadly, as to make her appear ghastly.
"As God is my judge," the girl solemnly answered, "did both these men stand
before me, as I may say one of them does, my choice, if I know my own heart,
would be the latter. I have no wish for a husband who is any way better than
myself."
"This is pleasant to listen to, and might lead a young man in time, to forget
his own onworthiness, Judith! Howsever, you hardly think all that you say. A
man like me is too rude and ignorant for one that has had such a mother to
teach her. Vanity is nat'ral, I do believe, but vanity like that, would
surpass reason."
"Then you do not know of what a woman's heart is capable! Rude you are not,
Deerslayer, nor can one be called ignorant that has studied what is before
his eyes as closely as you have done. When the affections are concerned, all
things appear in their pleasantest colors, and trifles are overlooked, or are
forgotten. When the heart feels sunshine, nothing is gloomy, even dull
looking objects, seeming gay and bright, and so it would be between you and
the woman who should love you, even though your wife might happen, in some
matters, to possess what the world calls the advantage over you."
"Judith, you come of people altogether above mine, in the world, and onequal
matches, like onequal fri'ndships can't often tarminate kindly. I speak of
this matter altogether as a fanciful thing, since it's not very likely that
you, at least, would be apt to treat it as a matter that can ever come to
pass."
Judith fastened her deep blue eyes on the open, frank countenance of her
companion, as if she would read his soul. Nothing there betrayed any covert
meaning, and she was obliged to admit to herself, that he regarded the
conversation as argumentative, rather than positive, and that he was still
without any active suspicion that her feelings were seriously involved in the
issue. At first, she felt offended; then she saw the injustice of making the
self-abasement and modesty of the hunter a charge against him, and this novel
difficulty gave a piquancy to the state of affairs that rather increased her
interest in the young man. At that critical instant, a change of plan flashed
on her mind, and with a readiness of invention that is peculiar to the quick-
witted and ingenious, she adopted a scheme by which she hoped effectually to
bind him to her person. This scheme partook equally of her fertility of
invention, and of the decision and boldness of her character. That the
conversation might not terminate too abruptly, however, or any suspicion of
her design exist, she answered the last remark of Deerslayer, as earnestly
and as truly, as if her original intention remained unaltered.
"I, certainly, have no reason to boast of parentage, after what I have seen
this night," said the girl, in a saddened voice. "I had a mother, it is true;
but of her name even, I am ignorant-and, as for my father, it is better,
perhaps, that I should never know who he was, lest I speak too bitterly of
him!"
"Judith," said Deerslayer, taking her hand kindly, and with a manly sincerity
that went directly to the girl's heart, "tis better to say no more to-night.
Sleep on what you've seen and felt; in the morning things that now look
gloomy, may look more che'rful. Above all, never do any thing in bitterness,
or because you feel as if you'd like to take revenge on yourself, for other
people's backslidings. All that has been said, or done, atween us, this
night, is your secret, and shall never be talked of by me, even with the
Sarpent, and you may be sartain if he can't get it out of me no man can. If
your parents have been faulty, let the darter be less so; remember that
you're young, and the youthful may always hope for better times; that you're
more quick-witted than usual, and such gin'rally get the better of
difficulties, and that, as for beauty, you're oncommon, which is an advantage
with all. It is time to get a little rest, for to-morrow is like to prove a
trying day to some of us."
Deerslayer arose as he spoke, and Judith had no choice but to comply. The
chest was closed and secured, and they parted in silence, she to take her
place by the side of Hist and Hetty, and he to seek a blanket on the floor of
the cabin he was in. It was not five minutes crc the young man was in a deep
sleep, but the girl continued awake for a long time. She scarce knew whether
to lament, or to rejoice, at having failed in making herself understood. On
the one hand, were her womanly sensibilities spared; on the other was the
disappointment of defeated, or at least of delayed expectations, and the
uncertainty of a future that looked so dark. Then came the new resolution,
and the bold project for the morrow, and when drowsiness finally shut her
eyes, they closed on a scene of success and happiness, that was pictured by
the fancy, under the influence of a sanguine temperament, and a happy
invention.
Read next: CHAPTER XXV
Read previous: CHAPTER XXIII
Table of content of Deerslayer
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your reviewYour review will be placed after the table of content of this book
