"The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay,
Tempts and then flies:
What is this world's delight? -Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as
bright."
Shelley, "Mutability," 11. i-v.
The picture next presented, by the point of land that the unfortunate Hurons
had selected for their last place of encampment, need scarcely be laid before
the eyes of the reader. Happily for the more tender-minded and the more
timid, the trunks of the trees, the leaves, and the smoke had concealed much
of that which passed, and night shortly after drew its veil over the lake,
and the whole of that seemingly interminable wilderness; which may be said to
have then stretched, with few and immaterial interruptions, from the banks of
the Hudson to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Our business carries us into
the following day, when light returned upon the earth, as sunny and as
smiling, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
When the sun rose on the following morning, every sign of hostility and alarm
had vanished from the basin of the Glimmerglass The frightful event of the
preceding evening had left no impression on the placid sheet, and the
untiring hours pursued their course in the placid order prescribed by the
powerful hand that set them in motion. The birds were again skimming the
water, or were seen poised on the wing, high above the tops of the tallest
pines of the mountains, ready to make their swoops, in obedience to the
irresistable law of their natures. In a word, nothing was changed, but the
air of movement and life that prevailed in and around the castle. Here,
indeed, was an alteration that must have struck the least observant eye. A
sentinel, who wore the light infantry uniform of a royal regiment, paced the
platform with measured tread, and some twenty more of the same corps, lounged
about the place, or were seated in the ark. Their arms were stacked under the
eye of their comrade on post. Two officers stood examining the shore, with
the ship's glass so often mentioned. Their looks were directed to that fatal
point, where scarlet coats were still to be seen gliding among the trees, and
where the magnifying power of the instrument also showed spades at work, and
the sad duty of interment going on. Several of the common men bore proofs on
their persons, that their enemies had not been overcome entirely without
resistance, and the youngest of the two officers on the platform, wore an arm
in a sling. His companion, who commanded the party, had been more fortunate.
He it was who used the glass, in making the reconnoissances in which the two
were engaged.
A serjeant approached to make a report. He addressed the senior of these
officers, as Capt. Warley, while the other was alluded to as Mr. - which was
equivalent to Ensign Thornton. The former it will at once be seen was the
officer who had been named with so much feeling, in the parting dialogue
between Judith and Hurry. He was, in truth, the very individual with whom the
scandal of the garrisons had most freely connected the name of this beautiful
but indiscreet girl. He was a hard featured, red faced, man, of about five
and thirty; but of a military carriage, and with an air of fashion that might
easily impose on the imagination of one as ignorant of the world, as Judith.
"Craig is covering us with benedictions," observed this person to his young
ensign, with an air of indifference as he shut the glass, and handed it to
his servant; "to say the truth, not without reason; it is certainly more
agreeable to be here in attendance on Miss Judith Hutter, than to be burying
Indians, on a point of the lake, however romantic the position, or brilliant
the victory. By the way, Wright-is Davis still living?"
"He died about ten minutes since, your honor," returned the sergeant to whom
this question was addressed. "I knew how it would be, as soon as I found the
bullet had touched the stomach. I never knew a man who could hold out long,
if he had a hole in his stomach."
"No; it is rather inconvenient for carrying away any thing very nourishing,"
observed Warley gaping. "This being up two nights de suite, Arthur, plays the
devil with a man's faculties! I'm as stupid, as one of those Dutch parsons on
the Mohawk- I hope your arm is not painful, my dear boy?"
~It draws a few grimaces from me, sir, as I suppose you see," answered the
youth, laughing at the very moment, his countenance was a little awry with
pain. "But it may be borne. I suppose Graham can spare a few minutes, soon,
to look at my hurt."
"She is a lovely creature, this Judith Hutter, after all, Thornton; and it
shall not be my fault if she is not seen and admired in the Parks!" resumed
Warley, who thought little of his companion's wound-"your arm, eh! Quite
true-Go into the ark, serjeant, and tell Dr. Graham I desire he would look at
Mr. Thornton's injury, as soon as he has done with the poor fellow with the
broken leg. A lovely creature! and she looked like a queen in that brocade
dress in which we met her. I find all changed here; father and mother both
gone, the sister dying, if not dead, and none of the family left, but the
beauty! This has been a lucky expedition all round, and promises to terminate
better than Indian skirmishes in general."
"Am I to suppose, sir, that you are about to desert your colours, in the
great corps of bachelors, and close the campaign with matrimony?"
"I, Tom Warley, turn Benedict! Faith, my dear boy, you little know the corps
you speak of, if you fancy any such thing. I do suppose there are women in
the colonies, that a captain of Light Infantry need not disdain; but they are
not to be found up here, on a mountain lake; or even down on the Dutch river
where we are posted. It is true, my uncle, the general, once did me the favor
to choose a wife for me in Yorkshire; but she had no beauty, and I would not
marry a princess, unless she were handsome."
"If handsome, you would marry a beggar?"
"Ay, these are the notions of an ensign! Love in a cottage- doors- and
windows- the old story, for the hundredth time. The twenty - th do n't marry.
We are not a marrying corps, my dear boy. There's the Colonel, Old Sir Edwin-
, now; though a full General he has never thought of a wife; and when a man
gets as high as a Lieutenant General, without matrimony, he is pretty safe.
Then the Lieutenant Colonel is confirmed, as I tell my cousin 'he Bishop. The
Major is a widower, having tried matrimony, for twelve months in his youth,
and we look upon him, now, as one of our most certain men. Out of ten
captains, but one is in the dilemma, and he, poor devil, is always kept at
regimental head quarters, as a sort of memento mori, to the young men as they
join. As for the subalterns, not one has ever yet had the audacity to speak
of introducing a wife into the regiment. But your arm is troublesome, and
we'll go ourselves and see what has become of Graham."
The Surgeon who had accompanied the party, was employed very differently from
what the captain supposed. When the assault was over, and the dead and
wounded were collected, poor Hetty had been found among the latter. A rifle
bullet had passed through her body, inflicting an injury that was known at a
glance, to be mortal. How this wound was received, no one knew; it was
probably one of those casualties that ever accompany scenes like that related
in the previous chapter.
The Sumach, all the elderly women, and some of the Huron girls, had fallen by
the bayonet, either in the confusion of the m~1ée, or from the difficulty of
distinguishing the sexes, when the dress was so simple. Much the greater
portion of the warriors suffered on the spot. A few had escaped, however, and
two or three had been taken unharmed. As for the wounded, the bayonet saved
the surgeon much trouble. Rivenoak had escaped with life and limb, but was
injured and a prisoner. As Captain Warley, and his ensign, went into the Ark,
they passed him, seated, in dignified silence, in one end of the scow, his
head and leg bound, but betraying no visible sign of despondency or despair.
That he mourned the loss of his tribe, is certain; still he did it in a
manner that best became a warrior and a chief.
The two soldiers found their surgeon in the principal room of the Ark. He was
just quitting the pallet of Hetty, with an expression of sorrowful regret, on
his hard, pock-marked Scottish features, that it was not usual to see there.
All his assiduity had been useless, and he was compelled, reluctantly to
abandon the expectation of seeing the girl survive many hours. Dr. Graham was
accustomed to death-bed scenes, and ordinarily they produced but little
impression on him. In all that relates to religion, his was one of those
minds which, in consequence of reasoning much on material things, logically
and consecutively, and overlooking the total want of premises which such a
theory must ever possess, through its want of a primary agent, had become
sceptical; leaving a vague opinion concerning the origin of things, that,
with high pretentions to philosophy, failed in the first of all philosophical
principles, a cause. To him religious dependence appeared a weakness, but
when he found one gentle and young like Hetty, with a mind beneath the level
of her race, sustained at such a moment by these pious sentiments, and that,
too, in a way that many a sturdy warrior, and reputed hero might have looked
upon with envy, he found himself affected by the sight, to a degree that he
would have been ashamed to confess. Edinburgh and Aberdeen, then as now,
supplied no small portion of the medical men of the British service, and Dr.
Graham, as indeed his name and countenance equally indicated, was, by birth,
a North Briton.
"Here is an extraordinary exhibition for a forest, and one but half-gifted
with reason," he observed with a decided Scotch accent, as Warley and the
ensign entered; "I just hope, gentlemen, that when we three shall be called
on to quit the twenty - th, we may be found as resigned to go on the half pay
of another existence, as this poor demented chief!"
"Is there no hope that she can survive the hurt?" demanded Warley, turning
his eyes towards the pallid Judith, on whose cheeks, however, two large spots
of red had settled, as soon as he came into the cabin.
"No more than there is for Chairlie Stuart! Approach and judge for
yourselves, gentlemen; ye'll see faith exemplified in an exceeding and
wonderful manner. There is a sort of bitrium between life and death, in
actual conflict in the poor girl's mind, that renders her an interesting
study to a philosopher. Mr. Thornton, I'm at your service, now; we can just
look at the arm, in the next room, while we speculate as much as we please on
the operations and sinuosities of the human mind."
The surgeon and ensign retired, and Warley had an opportunity of looking
about him, more at leisure, and with a better understanding of the nature and
feelings of the group collected in the cabin. Poor Hetty had been placed on
her own simple bed, and was reclining in a half seated attitude, with the
approaches of death on her countenance, though they were singularly dimmed by
the lustre of an expression, in which all the intelligence of her entire
being appeared to be concentrated. Judith and Hist were near her, the former
seated in deep grief; the latter standing, in readiness to offer any of the
gentle attentions of feminine care. Deerslayer stood at the end of the
pallet, leaning on Kilideer, unharmed in person, all the fine martial ardor
that had so lately glowed in his countenance, having given place to the usual
look of honesty and benevolence, qualities of which the expression was now
softened by manly regret and pity. The Serpent was in the back-ground of the
picture, erect, and motionless as a statue; but so observant that not a look
of the eye, escaped his own keen glances. Hurry completed the group, being
seated on a stool near the door, like one who felt himself out of place in
such a scene, but who was ashamed to quit it, unbidden.
"Who is that, in scarlet?" asked Hetty, as soon as the Captain's uniform
caught her eye. "Tell me, Judith, is it the friend of Hurry?"
"'Tis the officer who commands the troops, that have rescued us all from the
hands of the Hurons," was the low answer of the sister. -
"Am I rescued, too! - I thought they said I was shot, and about to die.
Mother is dead; and so is father; but you are living, Judith, and so is
Hurry. I was afraid Hurry would be killed, when I heard him shouting among
the soldiers."
"Never mind-never mind, dear Hetty-" interrupted Judith, sensitively alive to
the preservation of her sister's secret, more, perhaps at such a moment, than
at any other. "Hurry is well, and Deerslayer is well, and the Delaware is
well, too."
"How came they to shoot a poor girl like me, and let so many men go unharmed?
I did n't know that the Hurons were so wicked, Judith!"
"'Twas an accident, poor Hetty; a sad- sad- accident it has been! No one
would willingly have injured you."
"I'm glad of that!-I thought it strange; lam feeble minded, and the red men
have never harmed me before. I should he sorry to think that they had changed
their minds. I am glad too, Judith, that they haven't hurt Hurry. Deerslayer,
I don't think God will suffer any one to harm. It was very fortunate the
soldiers came as they did though. for fire will burn!"
"It was, indeed fortunate, my sister; God's holy name be forever blessed for
the mercy!"
"I dare say, Judith, you know some of the officers; you used to know so
many!"
Judith made no reply; she hid her face in her hands and groaned. Hetty gazed
at her in wonder; but naturally supposing her own situation was the cause of
this grief, she kindly offered to console her sister.
"Don't mind me, dear Judith," said the affectionate and pure-hearted
creature-"! don't suffer; if I do die, why father and mother are both dead,
and what happens to them, may well happen to me. You know I am of less
account than any of the family; therefore few will think of me after I'm in
the lake."
"No - no - no - poor, dear, dear Hetty!" exclaimed Judith, in an
uncontrollable burst of sorrow, "I, at least, will ever think of you; and
gladly, oh! how gladly would I exchange places with you, to be the pure,
excellent, sinless creature you are!"
Until now, Captain Warley had stood leaning against the door of the cabin;
when this outbreak of feeling, and perchance of penitence, however, escaped
the beautiful girl, he walked slowly and thoughtfully away; even passing the
ensign, then suffering under the surgeon's care, without noticing him.
"I have got my bible here, Judith," returned her sister, in a voice of
triumph. "It's true, I can't read any longer, there's something the matter
with my eyes-you look dim and distant-and so does Hurry, now I look at him-
well, I never could have believed that Henry March would have so dull a
look!-What can be the reason, Judith, that! see so badly, today? I, who
mother always said, had the best eyes in the whole family. Yes, that was it:
my mind was feeble-what people call half-witted-but my eyes were so good!"
Again Judith groaned; this time no feeling of self, no retrospect of the past
caused the pain. It was the pure,
Heartfelt sorrow of sisterly love, heightened by a sense of the meek humility
and perfect truth of the being before her. At that moment, she would gladly
have given up her own life to save that of Hetty. As the last, however, was
beyond the reach of human power, she felt there was nothing left her but
sorrow. At this moment Warley returned to the cabin, drawn by a secret
impulse he could not withstand, though he felt, just then, as if he would
gladly abandon the American continent for ever, were it practicable. Instead
of pausing at the door, he now advanced so near the pallet of the sufferer as
to come more plainly within her gaze. Hetty could still distinguish large
objects, and her look soon fastened on him.
"Are you the officer that came with Hurry?" she asked- "If you are, we ought
all to thank you, for, though I am hurt, the rest have saved their lives. Did
Harry March tell you, where to find us, and how much need there was for your
services?"
"The news of the party reached us by means of a friendly runner,' returned
the Captain, glad to relieve his feelings by this appearance of a friendly
communication, "and I was immediately sent out to cut it off. It was
fortunate, certainly, that we met Hurry Harry, as you call him, for he acted
as a guide, and it was not less fortunate, that we heard a firing, which I
now understand was merely a shooting at the mark, for it not only quickened
our march, but called us to the right side of the lake. The Delaware saw us
on the shore, with the glass it would seem, and he and Hist, as I find his
squaw is named, did us excellent service. It was really altogether, a
fortunate concurrence of circumstances, Judith?"
"Talk not to me of any thing fortunate, sir," returned the girl huskily,
again concealing her face. "To me the world is full of misery. I wish never
to hear of marks, or rifles, or soldiers, or men, again!"
"Do you know my sister?" asked Hetty, ere the rebuked soldier had time to
rally for an answer. "How came you to know that her name is Judith? You are
right, for that is her name; and I am Hetty, Thomas Hutter's daughters."
"For heaven's sake, dearest sister, -for my sake, beloved Hetty," interposed
Judith, imploringly, "say no more of this!"
Hetty looked surprised, but accustomed to comply, she ceased her awkward and
painful interrogations of Warley, bending her eyes towards the bible which
she still held between her hands, as one would cling to a casket of precious
stones, in a shipwreck, or a conflagration. Her mind now adverted to the
future, losing sight, in a great measure, of the scenes of the past.
"We shall not long be parted, Judith," she said; "when you die, you must be
brought and be buried in the lake, by the side of mother too."
"Would to God, Hetty, that I lay there, at this moment!"
"No, that cannot be, Judith; people must die before they have any right to be
buried. 'Twould be wicked to bury you, or for you to bury yourself, while
living. Once I thought of burying myself; God kept me from that sin."
"You! -You, Hetty Hutter, think of such an act!" exclaimed Judith, looking up
in uncontrollable surprise, for she well knew nothing passed the lips of her
conscientious sister, that was not religiously true.
"Yes, I did, Judith, but God has forgotten-no he forgets nothing-but he has
forgiven it," returned the dying girl, with the subdued manner of a repentant
child. " 'Twas after mother's death; I felt I had lost the best friend I had
on earth, if not the only friend. 'Tis true, you and father were kind to me,
Judith, but I was so feeble-minded, I knew I should only give you trouble;
and then you were so often ashamed of such a sister and daughter, and 'tis
hard to live in a world where all look upon you as below them. I thought
then, if I could bury myself by the side of mother, I should be happier in
the lake, than in the hut."
"Forgive me-pardon me, dearest Hetty-on my bended knees, I beg you to pardon
me, sweet sister, if any word, or act of mine drove you to so maddening and
cruel a thought!"
"Get up, Judith-kneel to God; do n't kneel to me. Just so I felt when mother
was dying! I remembered every thing I had said and done to vex her, and could
have kissed her feet for forgiveness. I think it must be so with all dying
people; though, now I think of it, I don't remember to have had such feelings
on account of father."
Judith arose, hid her face in her apron, and wept. A long pause-one of more
than two hours succeeded, during which Warley entered and left the cabin
several times; apparently uneasy when absent, and yet unable to remain. He
issued various orders, which his men proceeded to execute, and there was an
air of movement in the party, more especially as Mr. Craig, the lieutenant,
had got through the unpleasant duty of burying the dead, and had sent for
instructions from the shore, desiring to know what he was to do with his
detachment. During this interval Hetty slept a little, and Deerslayer and
Chingachgook left the Ark to confer together. But, at the end of the time
mentioned, the Surgeon passed upon the platform, and with a degree of feeling
his comrades had never before observed in one of his habits, he announced
that the patient was rapidly drawing near her end. On receiving this
intelligence the group collected again, curiosity to witness such a death-or
a better feeling-drawing to the spot, men who had so lately been actors in a
scene seemingly~ of so much greater interest and moment. By this time, Judith
had got to be inactive through grief, and Hist alone was performing the
little offices of feminine attention that are so appropriate to the sick bed.
Hetty herself, had undergone no other apparent change, than the general
failing that indicated the near approach of dissolution. All that she
possessed of mind was as clear as ever, and, in some respects, her intellect
perhaps was more than usually active.
"Don't grieve for me so much, Judith," said the gentle sufferer, after a
pause in her remarks-"I shall soon see mother-I think I see her now; her face
is just as sweet and smiling as it used to be! Perhaps when I'm dead, God
will give me all my mind, and I shall become a more fitting companion for
mother, than I ever was before."
"You will be an angel in heaven, Hetty," sobbed the sister; "no spirit there
will be more worthy of its holy residence!"
"I don't understand it quite; still, I know it must be all true; I've read it
in the bible. How dark it's becoming! Can it be night so soon? I can hardly
see you at all-where is Hist?"
"I here, poor girl-Why you no see me."
"I do see you; but I could n't tell whether 'twas you, or Judith. I believe I
shan't see you much longer, Hist."
"Sorry for that, poor Hetty. Never mind - pale face got a heaven for girls as
well as for warrior."
"Where's the Serpent-let me speak to him-Give me his hand-so-I feel it.
Delaware you will love and cherish this young Indian woman - I know how fond
she is of you; you must be fond of her. Don't treat her as some of your
people treat their wives; be a real husband to her. Now, bring Deerslayer
near me; give me his hand."
This request was complied with, and the hunter stood by the side of the
pallet, submitting to the wishes of the girl, with the docility of a child.
"I feel, Deerslayer,' she resumed --- ' though I could n't tell why -- but I
feel that you and I are not going to part for ever. "Tis a strange feeling! -
- I never had it before -- I wonder what it comes from!"
"Tis God encoraging you in extremity, Hetty; as such it ought to be harbored
and respected. Yes, we shall meet ag'in, though it may be a long time, first,
and in a far distant land."
"Do you mean to be buried in the lake, too? If so, that may account for the
feeling."
"'Tis little likely, gal; 'tis little likely-- but there's a region for
christian souls, where ther's no lakes, nor woods, they say; though why there
should be none of the last, is more than I can account for; seeing that
pleasantness and peace is the object in view. My grave will be found in he
foes, most likely, but I hope my spirit will not be far from yourn."
"So it must be, then. I am too weak-minded to understand these things, but I
feel that you and I will meet again, -- Sister, where are you? -- I feel that
you and I will meet again, --Sister, where are you -- I can't see, now, any
ting but darkness--it must be night, surely!"
"Oh! Hetty, I am here--at your side -- these are my arms that are around
you," sobbed Judith, ' Speak, dearest; is there any thing you wish to say, or
have done, in this awful moment."
By this time Hetty's sight had enirely failed her. Nevertheless death
approached with less than usual of its horrors, as if in tenderness to one of
her half endowed faculties. She was pale as a corpse, but her breathing was
easy and unbroken, while her voice, though lowered almost to a whisper,
remained clear and distinct. When her sister put this question, however, a
blush diffused itself over he features of the dying girl, so faint however as
to be nearly imperceptible; resembling that hue of the rose which is thought
to portray the tint of modesty, rather than the dye of the flower in its
richer bloom. No one but Judith detected this exposure of feeling, one of he
gentle expressions of womanly sensibility even in death. On her however, it
was not lost, nor did she conceal from herself the cause.
"Hurry is here, dearest Hetty --" whispered the sister, with her face so near
the sufferer, as to keep the words from other ears. "Shall I tell him to come
and receive your good wishes?"
A gentle pressure of the hand answered in the affirmative. Then Hurry was
brought to the side of the pallet. It is probable that this handsom, but
rude woodsman had never before found himself so awkwardly placed, though the
inclination whic Hetty felt for him -- was to pure and ounobrusive to have
created the slightes suspicion of the circumstance in his mind. He allowed
Judith to put hishard colossal hand between those of Hetty, and stood waiting
the result in awkward silence.
"This is Hurry, dearest,: whispered Judith, bending over her sister, ashamed
to utter the words so as to be audible to herself. "Speak to him, and let him
go."
"What shall I say, Judith?"
"Nay, whatever your own pure spirit teaches, my love. Trust to that, and you
need fear nothing."
"Good bye, Hurry --- " murmured the girl, with a gentle pressure of his hand
-- "I wish you would try and be more like Deerslayer."
These words were uttered with difficulty; a faint flush succeeded them for a
single instant. Then the hand was relinquished, and Hetty turned her face
aside, as if done with the world. The mysterious feling that bound her to
the young man, a sentiment so gentle as to be almost imperceptible to
herself, and which could never have existed at all, had her reason possessed
more command over her senses, was forever lost in thoughts of a more
elevated, though scarcely of a purer character.
"Of what are you thinking, my sweet sister?" whispered Judith -- "Tell me,
that I may aid you, at this moment."
"Mother -- I see Mother, now, and bright beings around her in the lake. Why
is n't father there? -- It's odd, that I can see mother, when I cn't see you!
-- Farewell, Judith.
The last words were uttered after a pause, and her sister had hung over her
some time, in anxious watchfulness, before she perceived that the gentle
spirit had departed. Thus died Hetty Hutter, one of those mysterious links
between the material and immaterial world, which, while they appear to be
deprived of so much that it is esteemed and necessary for this state of
being, draw so near to, and offer so beautiful an illustration of the truth,
purity, and simplicity of another.
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