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Ticonderoga; A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

<h4>CHAPTER VIII</h4> All was pleasant at the house of Sir William Johnson, from which the stateliness of his manner did not at all detract, for when blended with perfect courtesy, as an Irishman can perhaps better than any man blend it, stateliness does not imply restraint. The conference with the Indians had not ended until too late an hour for Mr. Prevost and his companions to return to his dwelling on the day when it took place, and as Walter was not expected with the answers to Lord H----'s dispatches for at least two days more, the party were not unwilling to prolong their stay till the following morning. Several of the guests, indeed, who were proceeding to Albany direct, set out at once for their destination, certain of reaching the well inhabited parts of the country before nightfall; and it was at one time proposed to send a letter by them to young Walter Prevost, directing him to join his father at the Hall. The inconveniences which so frequently ensue from deranging plans already fixed, caused this scheme to be rejected, and while her father, Lord H----, and their host wandered forth for an hour or two along the banks of the beautiful Mohawk, Edith remained at the Hall, not without hope of seeing Otaitsa present herself, with some intelligence. The beautiful Indian girl, however, did not appear, and gloomy thoughts thronged fast upon poor Edith. She strove to banish them; she schooled herself in regard to anticipating events only possible; but who ever mastered completely those internal warnings of approaching peril or woe, which as often come to cloud our brightest days, as to darken the gloom of an already tempestuous sky? Her chief companion was an old lady nearly related to Sir William, but very deaf and very silent, and she had but small relief in conversation. In the meantime the three gentlemen and a young aide-de-camp pursued their way amongst the neat farmhouses and mechanics' shops which had gathered round the Hall; Mr. Prevost gave way to thoughts apparently as gloomy as those which haunted his daughter, but in reality not so, for his was a mind of a discursive character, which was easily led by any collateral idea far away from any course which it was at first pursuing; and though he had awakened that morning full of the considerations which had engaged him during the preceding day, he was now busily calculating the results of the meeting which had just been held, and arriving at the conclusions, more just than were reached by many of the great statesmen and politicians of the day. Lord H----, on his part, paid no little attention to the demeanor and all the proceedings of their host. The character of his mind was the exact reverse of that of Mr. Prevost, attaching itself keenly to an object, and turned from its contemplation with difficulty. His thoughts still dwelt upon the consequences which were likely to ensue from the death of the Oneida by the hands of Captain Brooks, without anything like alarm, indeed, but with careful forethought for those who in a few short days had won for themselves a greater share of the warmer affections which lay hidden in his heart than he often bestowed upon anyone. As they quitted the door of the house a mere trifle called his attention to something peculiar in the conduct of Sir William Johnson, and led him to believe that the mind of that officer was not altogether at ease, notwithstanding the favorable result of the meeting with the Indians. After they had taken a step or two upon their way, Sir William Johnson paused suddenly, turned back, and ordered a servant to run up to the top of the hill and there watch until he returned. "Mark well which paths they take," he said, without specifying the persons of whom he spoke, "and let me hear if you see anything peculiar." The man seemed to understand him perfectly, and the parties, as I have said, walked on, Lord H---- watching everything with the utmost attention. In the course of their ramble not less than some nine or ten persons came up at different times, and spoke a word or two to Sir William Johnson. First it was a negro, then a soldier, then an Irish servant, then another white man, but with features of a strongly marked Indian character. Each seemed to give some information in a few words uttered in a low tone, and each departed as soon as they were spoken, some with a brief answer, some with none. The evening which succeeded their walk passed somewhat differently from the preceding one. There were fewer persons present, the conversation was more general and intimate, and Sir William Johnson, seating Edith at the old-fashioned instrument which in those days supplied the lack of pianofortes, asked for a song which it seems he had heard her sing before. She complied without any hesitation, with a sufficient skill and management of her voice to show that she had been well taught, but with tones so rich, so pure, and so melodious, that every sound in the room was instantly hushed, and Lord H---- approached nearer and nearer to listen. Lord H---- was full not only of the love but of the sense of music, and he drew closer and closer to Edith as she sang, and at length hung over her with his face turned away from the other guests in the room, and bearing written on it feelings which he hardly yet knew were in his heart. Sir William Johnson was standing on the other side of the beautiful girl's chair, and as she concluded the stanza before the last he raised his eyes suddenly to the face of Lord H---- with a look of great satisfaction. What he saw there made him start and then smile, for the characters written on the young nobleman's countenance were too plain to be mistaken; and Sir William Johnson, who was not without his share of worldly wisdom, at once divined that Edith Prevost was likely to be a peeress of England. "What a fine musician she is," said the older general to the young nobleman, after he had conducted Edith to her former seat, but before the enthusiasm had subsided. "One would hardly expect to find such music in the wild woods of America." "She is all music," said Lord H----, in an absent tone, and then added, rousing himself, "but you must not attribute such powers and such perfections altogether to your own land of America, Sir William, for I find that Miss Prevost was educated in Europe." "Only till she was fourteen," replied the other; "but they are altogether a most remarkable family. If ever girl was perfect, it is herself. Her father, though somewhat too much given to dream, is a man of singular powers of mind; and her brother, Walter, whom I look upon almost as a son, is full of high and noble qualities and energies which, if he lives, will certainly lead him on to greatness." "I think so," said Lord H----, and there the conversation dropped for the time. The rest of the evening passed on without any incident of note, and by daybreak on the following morning the whole household were on foot. An early breakfast was ready for the travelers, and nothing betrayed much anxiety on the part of their host till the very moment of their departure. As they were about to set forth, however, and just when Edith appeared in her riding habit (or Amazon, as it was then called), and the hat, with large, floating ostrich plumes usually worn at that time by ladies when on horseback, looking lovely enough, it is true, to justify any compliment, Sir William took her by the hand, saying, with a gay and courteous air: "I am going to give you a commission, my fair Hypolita, which is neither more nor less than the command of half a dozen dragoons, whom I wish to go with you for a portion of the way, partly to exercise their horses on a road which is marvellously cleared of stumps and stones for this part of the country, partly to examine what is going on a little to the northeast, and partly to bring me the pleasant intelligence that you have gone at least half way to your home in safety." Lord H---- looked in his face in silence, and Edith turned a little pale, but said nothing. Mr. Prevost, however, went directly to the point, saying: "You know of some danger, my good friend. You had better inform us of all the particulars, that we may be upon our guard." "None whatever, Prevost," answered Sir William, "except the general perils of inhabiting an advanced spot on the frontiers of a savage people, especially when anything has occurred to offend them. You know what we talked about yesterday morning. The Oneidas do not easily forgive, and in this case they will not forgive. But I have every reason to believe that they have taken their way homeward for the present. My people traced them a good way to the west, and it is only from some chance stragglers that there is any danger." Mr. Prevost mused, without moving to the door, which was open for them to depart, and then said, in a meditating kind of tone: "I do not think they will attack any large party, Sir William, even when satisfied that they cannot get hold of the man who has incensed them. These Indians are a very cunning people, and they often satisfy even their notions of honor by an artifice, especially when two duties, as they consider them, are in opposition to one another. Depend upon it, after what passed yesterday, they will commit no act of national hostility against England. They are pledged to us, and will not break their pledge. They will attack no large party, nor slay any Englishman in open strife, though they may kidnap some solitary individual, and, according to their curious notions of atonement, make him a formal sacrifice in expiation of the blood shed by another." "You know the Indians well, Prevost," said Sir William, gravely, "marvellously well, considering the short time you have been amongst them." "I have had little else to do than to study them," said the other, "and the subject is one of great interest. But do you think I am wrong in the view I take, my good friend?" "Quite on the contrary," replied Sir William, "and that is the reason I send the soldiers with you. A party of eight or ten will be perfectly secure; and I would certainly advise that for the next two or three months, or till this unlucky dog Brooks, or Woodchuck, as he is called, has been captured, no one should go any distance from his home singly. Such a party as yours might be large enough--I am not sure that my lord's red coat, which I am happy to see he has got on to-day, might not be sufficient protection, for they will not risk anything which they themselves deem an act of hostility against the British government. But still the soldiers will make the matter more secure till you have passed the spot where there is any danger of their being found. I repeat, I know of no peril, but I would fain guard against all where a fair lady is concerned," and he bowed gracefully to Edith. Little more was said, and, taking leave of their host, Mr. Prevost's party mounted their horses and set out, followed by a corporal's guard of dragoons, a small body of which corps was then stationed in the province of New York, although, from the nature of the country in which hostilities had hitherto been carried on, small opportunity had as yet been afforded them of showing their powers against an enemy. Nor would there have been any very favorable opportunity for doing so in the present instance had Mr. Prevost and his companions been attacked, for though the road they had to travel was broad and open, compared to an ordinary Indian trail, yet, except at one or two points, it was hemmed in with impervious forests, where the action of cavalry would be quite impossible, and under the screen of which a skillful marksman might bring down his man himself unperceived. But Sir William Johnson was sincere in saying that he believed the very sight of the English soldiers would be quite sufficient protection. The Indians, he knew right well, would avoid anything like a struggle or a contest, and would more especially take care not to come into collision of any kind with the troops of their British allies. It was likely that they would depend upon cunning entirely to obtain a victim wherewith to appease their vengeance, but on this probability he did not choose altogether to rely. He saw them depart, however, with perfect confidence, as the soldiers were with them; and they proceeded without seeing a single human being after they quitted his settlement, till they reached the shores of the small lake near which they had halted on their previous journey, and where they again dismounted to take refreshment. It was a very pleasant spot, and well fitted for a resting place; nor was repose altogether needless, though the distance already traveled was not great either for man or horse. But the day was exceedingly oppressive, like one of those which come in what is called the Indian summer, when the weather, after many a frosty day, becomes suddenly sultry, as if in the middle of June, and the air, loaded with thin yellow vapor, well deserves the term of "smoky," usually given to it on the western side of the Atlantic. Yet there was no want of air; the wind blew from the southeast, but there was no freshness on the breeze. It was like the sirocco, taking away strength and freshness from all it breathed upon; and the horses, after being freed from the burdens they bore, stood for several minutes with bent heads and heaving sides, without attempting to crop the forest grass beneath the trees. Thus, repose was sweet, and the look of the little lake was cool and refreshing. The travelers lingered there somewhat after the hour at which they proposed to depart, and it was the negro, who took care of the baggage, who first warned them of the waning of the day. "Massa forget," he said, "sun go early to bed in October. Twelve mile to go yet, and road wuss nor dis." "True, true," replied Mr. Prevost, rising. "We had better go on, my lord, for it is now past two, and we shall barely reach home by daylight. I really think, Corporal," he continued, turning to the non-commissioned officer who had been seated with his men hard by, enjoying some of the good things of life, "that we need not trouble you to go farther. There is no trace of any Indians, nor, indeed, any human beings in the forest but ourselves. Had there been so, my good friend Chaudo, here, would have discovered it, for he knows their tracks as well as any of their own people." "Dat I do," replied the negro to whom he pointed. "No Ingin pass dis road since yesterday, I swear." "My orders were to go to the big blazed basswood tree, four miles farther," replied the soldier, in a firm but respectful tone, "and I must obey orders." "You are right," said Lord H----, pleased with the man's demeanor. "What is your name, Corporal?" "Clitherto, my lord," replied the man, with a military salute; "Corporal Clitherto." Lord H---- bowed his head, and the party, remounting, pursued their way. The road, however, as the negro had said, was more difficult in advance than it had been nearer to Sir William Johnson's settlement, and it took the whole party an hour to reach the great basswood tree which had been mentioned, and which was marked out from the rest of the forest by three large marks upon the bark, hewn by some surveyor's axe when the road had been laid out. There the party stopped for a moment or two, and with a few words of thanks Mr. Prevost and his companions parted from their escort. "How dim the air along the path is," said Lord H----, looking on, "and yet the sun, getting to the west, is shining right down it through the valley. One could almost imagine it was filled with smoke." "This is what we call a smoky day in America," replied Mr. Prevost, "but I never knew the Indian summer come on us with such a wind." No more was said on that matter at the time, and as the road grew narrower, Mr. Prevost and the negro, as best acquainted with the way, rode first, while Lord H---- followed by Edith's side, conversing with her in quiet and easy tones, but with words which sometimes caused the color to vary a little in her cheek. Thus they went on for some four miles farther, and the evening was evidently closing round them rapidly, though no ray had yet passed from the sky. Suddenly Mr. Prevost drew in his rein, saying in a low but distinct voice to the negro: "What is that crossing the road?" "No Ingin!" cried the negro, whose eyes had been constantly bent forward. "Surely there is smoke drifting across the path," said Mr. Prevost, "and I think I smell it, also." "I have thought so for some time," said Lord H----, who was now close to them with Edith. "Are fires common in these woods?" "Not very," answered Mr. Prevost, "but the season has been unusually dry. Good heaven, I hope my fears are not prophetic! I have been thinking all day of what would become of The Lodge if the forest were to take fire." "We had better ride on as fast as possible," said the young nobleman, "for then if the worst happens we may be able to save some of your property, Mr. Prevost." "We must be cautious, we must be cautious," said the other, in a thoughtful tone. "Fire is a capricious element, and often runs in a direction the least expected. I have heard of people getting so entangled in a burning wood as not to be able to escape." "Oh, yes," cried the negro, "when I were little boy, I remember quite well Massa John Bostock and five other men wid him git in pine wood behind Albany, and it catch fire. He run here and dere, but it git all round him and roast him up black as I be. I saw dem bring in what dey fancied was he, but it no better dan a great pine stump." "If I remember," said Lord H----, "we passed a high hill somewhere near this spot, where we had a fine, clear view over the whole of the woody region round. We had better make for that at once. The fire cannot yet have reached it, if my remembrance of the distance is correct; for though the wind sets toward us the smoke is, as yet, anything but dense." "Pray God it be so," said Mr. Prevost, spurring forward, "but I fear it is nearer." The rest followed as quickly as the stumps and the fallen trees would let them, and at the distance of half a mile began the ascent of the hill to which Lord H---- had alluded. As far as that spot the smoke had been becoming denser and denser every moment, apparently pouring along the valley formed by that hill and another on the left, through which valley, let it be remarked, the small river in which Walter had been seen fishing by Sir William Johnson, but now a broad and very shallow stream, took its course onward toward the Mohawk. As they began to ascend, however, the smoke decreased, and Edith exclaimed joyfully: "I hope, dear father, the fire is farther to the north." "We shall see, we shall see," said Mr. Prevost, still pushing his horse forward. "The sun is going down fast, and a little haste will be better on all accounts." In about five minutes more the summit of the hill was reached, at a spot where, in laying out two roads which crossed each other there, the surveyors had cleared away a considerable portion of the wood, leaving, as Lord H---- had said, a clear view over the greater part of the undulating forest country lying in the angle formed by the upper Hudson and the Mohawk. The only sign of man's habitation which could be discovered at any time was the roof and chimneys of Mr. Prevost's house, which in general could be perceived rising above the trees, upon an eminence a good deal lower than the summit which the travelers had now reached. Now, however, the house could not be seen. The sight which the country presented was a fine but a terrible one. On the one side the sun, with his lower limb just dipped beneath the forest, was casting up floods of many-colored light, orange and purple, gold, and even green, upon the light, fantastic clouds scattered over the western sky; while above, some fleecy vapors, fleeting quickly along, were all rosy with the touch of his beams. Onward to the east and north, filling up the whole valley between the hill on which they stood and the eminence crowned by Mr. Prevost's house, and forming an almost semi-circular line of some three or four miles in extent, was a dense, reddish-brown cloud of smoke, marking where the fire raged, and softening off at each extreme to a bluish gray. No general flame could be perceived through this heavy cloud, but ever and anon a sudden flash would break across it, not bright and vivid, but dull and half obscured, when the fierce elements got hold of some of the drier and more combustible materials of the forest. Once or twice, too, suddenly at one point of the line or another, a single tree, taller perhaps than the rest, or more inflammable, or garmented in a thick matting of dry vine, would catch the flame and burst forth from the root to the topmost branch, like a tall column of fire; and here and there, too, from what cause I know not--perhaps from an accumulation of dry grass and withered leaves, seized upon by the fire and wind together--a volley of sparks would mingle with the cloud of smoke and float along, for a moment, bright and sparkling, to the westward. It was a grand but an awful spectacle, and as Mr. Prevost gazed upon it thoughts and feelings crowded into his bosom which even Edith herself could not estimate. "Look, look, Prevost!" cried Lord H----, after they had gazed during one or two minutes in silence. "The wind is drifting away the smoke! I can see the top of your house--it is safe, as yet--and will be safe," he added, "for the wind sets somewhat away from it." "Not enough," said Mr. Prevost, in a dull, gloomy tone. "The slightest change, and it is gone. The house I care not for; the barns, the crops, are nothing! They can be replaced, or I could do without them; but there are things within that house, my lord, I cannot do without." "Do you not think we can reach it?" asked Lord H----. "If we were to push our horses into the stream there, we might follow its course up--it seems broad and shallow--and the trees recede from the banks--are there any deep spots in its course?" "None, massa," replied the negro. "Let us try, at all events," exclaimed Lord H----, turning his horse's head. "We can come back again if we find the heat and smoke too much for us." "My daughter!" said Mr. Prevost, in a tone of deep, strong feeling, "my daughter! Lord H----." The young nobleman was silent. The stories he had heard that day, and many he had heard before, of persons getting entangled in burning forests, and never being able to escape--which, while in the first enthusiasm of the moment he thought only of himself and of Mr. Prevost, had seemed to him but visions, wild chimeras--assumed a terrible reality as soon as the name of Edith was mentioned, and he would have shuddered to see the proposal adopted which he had made only the moment before. He was silent then, and Mr. Prevost was the first who spoke. "I must go," he said, with gloomy earnestness, after some brief consideration. "I must go, let what will betide." He remained for two or three minutes profoundly silent. Then, turning suddenly to Lord H----, he said: "My lord, I am going to entrust to you the dearest thing I have on earth, my daughter--to place her under the safeguard of your honor--to rely for her protection and defence upon your chivalry. As an English nobleman of high name and fame, I do trust you without a doubt. I must make my way through that fire by some means--I must save some papers--two pictures which I value more than my own life. I will take my good friend Chaudo here with me. I must leave you to conduct Edith to a place of safety." "Oh, my father!" cried Edith, but he went on, without heeding her: "If you follow that road," he continued, "you will come at the distance of some seven miles, to a good-sized farmhouse on the left of the road. The men are most likely out watching the progress of the fire, but you will find the women within, and good and friendly they are, though homely and uneducated. I have no time to stop for further directions. Edith, my child, God bless you! Do not cloud our parting with a doubt of heaven's protection. Should anything occur--and be it as He wills--you and Walter will find with the lawyers at Albany all papers referring to this small farm, and to the little we have in England. God bless you, my child! God bless you!" and thus saying, he turned and rode fast down the hill, beckoning to the negro to follow him. "Oh, my father! my father!" cried Edith, dropping her rein and clasping her hands together, longing to follow, yet unwilling to disobey. "He will be lost--I fear he will be lost!" "I trust not," said Lord H----, in a firm, calm tone, well fitted to inspire confidence. "He knows the country well, and can take advantage of every turning to avoid the flame. Besides, if you look along what I imagine to be the course of the stream, you will see a deep undulation, as it were, in that sea of smoke, and when the wind blows strongly it is almost clear. He said, too, that the banks continued free from trees." "As far as the bridge and the rapids near our house," replied Edith; "but after that they are thickly wooded." "But the fire has evidently not reached that spot," said the young nobleman. "All the ground within half a mile of the house is free at present. I saw it quite distinctly a moment ago, and the wind is setting this way." "Then can we not follow him?" asked his fair companion, imploringly. "To what purpose?" asked Lord H----; "and besides," he added, "now let me call to your mind the answer of the good soldier, Corporal Clitherto, just now. He said he must obey orders, and he was right. A soldier to his commander, a child to a parent, a Christian to his God: have, I think, but one duty--to obey. Come, Edith, let us follow the directions we have received. The sun is already beneath the forest edge; we can do no good gazing here; and although I do not think there is any danger, and believe you will be safe under my protection, yet, for many reasons, I could wish to place you beneath the shelter of a roof, and in the society of other women as soon as may be." "Thank you much," she answered, gazing up into his face, on which the lingering light in the west cast a warm glow. "You remind me of my duty, and strengthen me to follow it. I have no fear of any danger with you to protect me, my lord. It was for my father only I feared. But it was wrong to do so, even for him. God will protect, I do hope and believe. We must take this way, my lord," and with a deep sigh she turned her horse's head upon the path which her father had pointed out. No general subject of conversation could, of course, be acceptable at that moment; but one topic they had to discuss. And yet Lord H---- made more of that than some men would have made of a thousand. He comforted, he consoled, he raised up hope and expectation. His words were full of promise; and from everything he wrung some illustration to support and cheer. A few moments after they left the summit of the hill and began the more gentle descent which stretched away to the southeast, the last rays of the sun were withdrawn and night succeeded; but it was the bright and sparkling night of the American sky. There was no moon, indeed, but the stars burst forth in multitudes over the firmament, larger, more brilliant than they are ever beheld even in the clearest European atmosphere, and they gave light enough to enable the two travelers to see their path. The wind still blew strongly, and carried the smoke away, and the road was wide enough to show the starry canopy overhanging the trees. Obliged to go very slowly, but little progress had been made in an hour, and by that time a strong odor of the burning wood and a pungent feeling in the eyes, showed that some portion of the smoke was reaching them. "I fear the wind has changed," said Edith. "The smoke seems coming this way." "The better for your father's house, dear lady," answered Lord H----. "It was a change to the westward he had to fear; the more fully east the better." They fell into silence again, but in a minute or two after, looking to the left of the road, where the trees were very closely set, though there was an immense mass of brushwood underneath, Lord H---- beheld a small, solitary spot of light, like a lamp burning. It was seen and hidden, seen and hidden again by the trees as they rode on, and must have been at some three or four hundred yards distance. It seemed to change its place, too, to shift, to quiver; and then, in a long, winding line, it crept slowly round and round the boll of a tree like a fiery serpent; and a moment after, with flash and crackling flame, and fitful blaze, it spread flickering over the dry branches of a pitch pine. "The fire is coming nearer, dear Miss Prevost," said Lord H----, "and it is necessary we should use some forethought. How far, think you, this farmhouse is now?" "Nearly four miles," answered Edith. "Does it lie due south?" asked her companion. "Very nearly," she replied. "Is there any road to the westward?" demanded the young nobleman, with his eyes still fixed upon the distant flame. "Yes." she answered; "about half a mile on there is a tolerable path made along the side of the hill on the west, to avoid the swamp during wet weather; but it rejoins this road a mile or so farther on." "Let us make haste," said Lord H----, abruptly; "the road seems fair enough just here, and I fear there is no time to lose." He put his hand upon Edith's rein as he spoke, to guide the horse on, and rode forward perhaps somewhat less than a quarter of a mile, watching with an eager eye the increasing light to the east, where it was now seen glimmering through the trees in every direction, looking, through the fretted trellis-work of branches, trunks, and leaves, like a multitude of red lamps hung up in the forest. Suddenly, at a spot where there was an open space or streak, as it was called, running through some two or three hundred yards of the wood, covered densely with brush, but destitute of tall trees, the whole mass of the fire appeared to view, and the travelers seemed gazing into the mouth of a furnace. Just then the wind shifted a little more and blew down the streak; the cloud of smoke rolled forward; flash after flash burst forth along the line as the flame caught the withered leaves on the top of the branches; then the bushes themselves were seized upon by the fire, and sent flaming tongues far up into the air. Onward it rushed, with a roar, and a crackle, and a hiss, caught the taller trees on either side, and poured across the road right in front. Edith's horse, unaccustomed to such a sight, started, and pulled vehemently back; but Lord H----, snatching her riding whip from her hand, struck him sharply on the flank, and forced him forward by the rein. But again the beast resisted; not a moment was to be lost; time wasted in the struggle must have been fatal; and, casting the bridle free, he threw his right arm round her light form, lifted her from the saddle, and seated her safely before him. Then, striking his spurs into the sides of his well-trained charger, he dashed at full speed through the burning bushes, and in two minutes had gained the ground beyond the fire. "You are saved, dear Edith!" he said. "You are saved!" He could not call her Miss Prevost then; and though she heard the name he gave her, at that moment of gratitude and thanksgiving it sounded only sweetly on her ear. "Thank God! thank God!" said Edith; "and oh, my lord, how can I ever show my gratitude to you?" Lord H---- was silent for a moment, and then said in a low tone--for it would be spoken: "Dear Edith, I have no claim to gratitude; but if you can give me love instead, the gratitude shall be yours for life. But I am wrong, very wrong, for speaking to you thus at this moment, and in these circumstances. Yet there are emotions which force themselves into words whether we will or not. Forget those I have spoken, and do not tremble so, for they shall be no more repeated till I find a fitter occasion--then they shall immediately. Now, dear Edith, I will ride slowly on with you to this farmhouse, will leave you there with the good people, and, if possible, get somebody to guide me round another way to join your father, and assure him of your safety. That he is safe I feel certain, for this very change of wind must have driven the fire away from him. Would you rather walk? For I am afraid you have an uneasy seat, and we are quite safe now; the flames will go another way." From many motives Edith preferred to go on foot, and Lord H---- suffered her to slip gently to the ground. Then dismounting himself, he drew her arm within his own, and leading his horse by the bridle, proceeded along the road over the shoulder of the hill, leaving the lower road, which the flame still menaced, on their left Edith needed support, and their progress was slow, but Lord H---- touched no more upon any subject that could agitate her, and at the end of about an hour and a half they reached the farmhouse, and knocked for admission. There was no answer, however. No dogs barked, no sounds were heard, and all was dark within. Lord H---- knocked again. Still all was silent; and putting his hand upon the latch, he opened the door. "The house seems deserted," he said; and then, raising his voice, he called loudly, to wake any slumbering inhabitant who might be within. Still no answer was returned, and he felt puzzled and more agitated than he would have been in the presence of any real danger. There was no other place of shelter near; he could not leave Edith there, as he had proposed; and yet the thought of passing a long night with her in that deserted house produced a feeling of indecision, checkered by many emotions which were not usual to him. "This is most unlucky," he said. "What is to be done now?" "I know not," said Edith, in a low and distressed tone. "I fear, indeed, the good people are gone. If the moon would but rise, we might see what is really in the house." "I can get a light," replied Lord H----. "There is wood enough scattered about to light a fire. Stay here in the doorway while I fasten my horse and gather some sticks together. I will not go out of sight." The sticks were soon gathered and carried to the large kitchen, into which the door opened directly. Lord H----'s pistol, which he took from the holsters, afforded the means of lighting a cheerful fire on the hearth, and as soon as it blazed up a number of objects were seen in the room which showed that the house had been inhabited lately, and abandoned suddenly. Little of the furniture seemed to have been carried away, indeed; and amongst the first things that were perceived, much to Edith's comfort, were candles and a tin lamp of Dutch manufacture, ready trimmed. These were soon lighted, and Lord H----, taking his fair companion's hand in his, and gazing fondly on her pale and weary face, begged her to seek some repose. "I cannot, of course," he said, "leave you here and seek your father, as I proposed just now; but if you will go upstairs, and seek some room where you can lock yourself in, in case of danger, I will keep guard here below. Most likely all the people of the house have gone forth to watch the progress of the fire, and may return speedily." Edith mused, and shook her head, saying: "I think something else must have frightened them away." "Would you have courage to fire a pistol in case of need?" asked Lord H----, in a low tone. Edith gently inclined her head, and he then added: "Stay! I will charge this for you again." He then reloaded the pistol, the charge of which he had drawn to light the fire, and was placing it in Edith's hand, when a tall, dark figure glided into the room with a step perfectly noiseless. Lord H---- drew her suddenly back and placed himself before her, but a second glance showed him the dignified form and fine features of Otaitsa's father. <ANTIMG src="images/p99.png" alt="page 99"> "Peace," said the old chief. "Peace to you, my brother," and he held out his hand to Lord H----, who took it frankly. Black Eagle then unfastened the blue blanket from his shoulders and threw it around Edith, saying: "Thou art my daughter, and art safe. I have heard the voice of the Cataract, and its sound was sweet. It is a great water, and a good. The counsel is wise, my daughter. Go thou up and rest in peace. The Black Eagle will watch by the Cataract till the eyes of morning open in the east. The Black Eagle will watch for thee as for his own young, and thou art safe." "I know I am, when thou art near me, Father," said Edith, taking his brown hand in hers, "but is it so with all mine?" "If I can make it so," answered Black Eagle. "Go, daughter, and be at peace. This one at least is safe also, for he is a great chief of our white fathers, and we have a treaty with him. The man of the Five Nations who would lift his hand against him is accursed." Edith knew that she could extract nothing more from him, and with her mind somewhat lightened, but not wholly relieved, she ascended to the upper story. Lord H---- seated himself on the step at the foot of the stairs, and the Indian chief crouched down beside him. But both kept a profound silence, and in a few minutes after, the moon, slowly rising over the piece of cleared ground in front, poured in upon their two figures as they sat there side by side, in strange contrast. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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