<h4>CHAPTER XI</h4>
<br/>
<p>With great pain Lord H---- contemplated the task before him; but his
was a firm and resolute heart, and he strode forward quickly, to
accomplish it as soon as possible. Fancy painted, as he went, all the
grief and anguish he was about to inflict upon Edith; but fancy hardly
did her justice, for it kept out of the picture many of the stronger
and finer traits of her character. The beautiful girl was watching
from the window, and at once recognized her lover as he issued from
the wood alone. Her heart sank with apprehension, it is true, but
nevertheless she ran out along the little path to meet him, in order
to know the worst at once. Before they met, slowly and heavily her
father came forth from the wood, with a crowd of boatmen and soldiers
following, in groups of six or seven at a time; and with wonderful
accuracy, she divined the greater part of what had occurred. She
instantly stopped till Lord H---- came up, and then inquired in a low
and trembling voice: "Have you found him? Is he dead or living?"</p>
<p>"We have not found him, dear Edith," said Lord H----, taking her hand
and leading her toward the house, "but your father conceives there is
great cause for apprehension of the very worst kind, from what we have
found. I trust, however, that his fears go beyond the reality, and
that there is still----"</p>
<p>"Oh, dear George, do not keep me in suspense!" said Edith. "Let me
hear all at once. My mind is sufficiently prepared by long hours of
painful thought. I will show none of the weakness I displayed this
morning. What is it you have found?"</p>
<p>"His knife and his knapsack," replied Lord H----.</p>
<p>"He may have cast it off from weariness," said Edith, catching at a
hope.</p>
<p>"I fear not," replied her lover, unwilling to encourage expectations
to be disappointed. "The straps of the knapsack were cut, not
unbuckled, and your father has given himself up entirely to despair,
although we found no traces of strife or bloodshed."</p>
<p>"Poor Waiter!" said Edith, with a deep sigh; but she shed no tears,
and walked on in silence till they had reached the little veranda of
the house. Then suddenly she stopped, roused herself from her fit of
thought, and said, raising her beautiful and tender eyes to her
lover's face: "I have now two tasks before me to which I must give
myself up entirely--to console my poor father, and to try to save my
brother's life. Forgive me, George, if in executing these, especially
the latter, I do not seem to give you as much of my thoughts as you
have a right to. You would not, I know, have me neglect either."</p>
<p>"God forbid!" said Lord H----, warmly; "but let me share in them,
Edith. There is nothing within the scope of honor and of right that I
will not do to save your brother. I sent him on this ill-starred
errand. To gratify me was that unfortunate expedition made through the
wood; but it is enough that he is your brother and your father's son,
and I will do anything, undertake anything, if there be still a hope.
Go to your father first, my love, and then let us consult together. I
will see these men attended to, for they want rest and food, and I
must take liberties with your father's house to provide for them."</p>
<p>"Do! do!" she answered. "Use it as your own;" and leaving him in the
veranda she turned to meet her father.</p>
<p>For the time, Edith well knew Mr. Prevost's mind was not likely to
receive either hope or consolation. All she could give him was
tenderness; and Lord H----, who followed her to speak with the
soldiers and boatmen, soon saw her disappear into the house with Mr.
Prevost. When he returned to the little sitting-room Edith was not
there, but he heard the murmur of voices from the room above, and in
about half an hour she rejoined him. She was much more agitated than
when she left him, and her face showed marks of tears; not that her
fears were greater, or that she had heard anything to alarm her more,
but her father's deep despair had overpowered her own firmness. All
the weaker affections of human nature are infectious--fear, despair,
dismay and sorrow peculiarly so.</p>
<p>Edith still felt, however, the importance of decision and action, and
putting her hand to her head with a look of bewilderment, she stood
for an instant in silence, with her eyes fixed on the ground,
seemingly striving to collect her scattered thoughts in order to judge
and act with precision.</p>
<p>"One of the boatmen, Edith," said Lord H----, leading her to a seat,
"has led me to believe that we shall have ample time for any efforts
to serve your brother, if he has, as there is too much reason to fear,
fallen into the hands of these revengeful Indians. The man seems to
know well what he talks of, and boasts that he has been accustomed to
the ways and manners of the savages since boyhood."</p>
<p>"Is he a tall, handsome man, with two beautiful children?" asked
Edith.</p>
<p>"He is a tall, good-looking man," answered Lord H----, "but his
children I did not see."</p>
<p>"If he be the man I mean, he can be fully depended upon," answered
Edith, "and it may be well to ask his opinion and advice before he
goes; but for the present, George, let us consult alone. Perhaps I can
judge better than you of poor Walter's present situation; that is
first to be considered, and then what are the chances, what the means,
of saving him. He is certainly in the hands of the Indians, of that I
have no doubt; and I think Black Eagle knew it when he guided us
through the forest. Yet I do not think that he would willingly lift
the tomahawk against my brother. It will be at the last extremity,
when all means have failed of entrapping that unhappy man Brooks. We
shall have time; yes, we certainly have time."</p>
<p>"Then the first step to be taken," said Lord H----, "will be to induce
the government to make a formal and imperative demand for his release.
I will undertake that part of the matter; it shall be done at once."</p>
<p>Edith shook her head sadly. "You know them not," she said. "It would
only hurry his fate;" and after dropping her voice to a very low tone,
she added: "They would negotiate and hold councils, and Walter would
be slain while they were treating."</p>
<p>She pressed her hands upon her eyes as she spoke, as if to shut out
the dreadful image her words called up, and then there was a moment or
two of silence, at the end of which Lord H---- inquired if it would
not be better for him to see Sir William Johnson and consult with him.</p>
<p>"That may be done," said Edith. "No man in the province knows them as
well as he does, and his advice may be relied upon; but we must take
other measures, too. Otaitsa must be told, and consulted. Do you know,
George," she added, with a melancholy smile, "I have lately been
inclined at times to think that there is no small love between Walter
and the Blossom--something more than friendship, at all events."</p>
<p>"But of course she will hear of his capture, and do the best she can
to save him," replied the young nobleman.</p>
<p>Edith shook her head, answering: "Save him she will, if any human
power can do it; but that she knows of his capture I much doubt. These
Indians are wise, George, as they think, and never trust their acts,
their thoughts, or their resolutions to a woman. They will keep the
secret from Otaitsa just as Black Eagle kept it from me; but she must
be informed, consulted, and perhaps acted with. Then I think, too,
that poor man Woodchuck should have tidings of what his act has
brought upon us."</p>
<p>"I see not well," said Lord H----, "what result that can produce."</p>
<p>"Nor I," answered Edith; "but yet it ought to be done, in justice to
ourselves and to him. He is bold, skillful, and resolute, and we must
not judge of any matter in this country as we should judge in Europe.
He may undertake and execute something for my brother's rescue which
you and I would never dream of. He is just the man to do so and to
succeed. He knows every path of the forest, every lodge of the
Indians. He is friendly with many of them, has saved the lives of some
of them, I have heard him say, and conferred great obligations upon
others; and I believe that he will never rest till he has delivered
Walter."</p>
<p>"Then I will find him out and let him know the facts directly," said
Lord H----; "perhaps he and Otaitsa may act together, if we can open
any communication with her."</p>
<p>"She will act by herself and for herself, I am sure," replied Edith,
"and some communication must be opened at any and all risk. But let us
see this man, George; perhaps he may know someone going into the
Indian territory who may carry a letter to her. It is a great blessing
she can read and write, for we must have our secrets, too, if we would
frustrate theirs."</p>
<p>Lord H---- rose, and proceeded to the hall, where the men whom he had
brought with him were busily engaged in dispatching such provisions as
Mr. Prevost's house could afford on the spur of the moment. The man he
sought for was soon found, and when he had eaten the morsel almost
between his teeth, he followed the young nobleman into the lesser
room, and was soon in full conference with Edith and her lover. He
again expressed the opinion that no harm would happen to young Walter
Prevost for some months, at the least. "They have caught someone," he
said, "to make sure of their revenge, and that is all they wanted for
the present. Now they will look for the man that did it, and catch him
if they can."</p>
<p>"Can you tell where he is to be found?" asked Lord H----, in a quiet
tone.</p>
<p>"Why, you would not give him up to them?" said the man, sharply.</p>
<p>"Certainly not," replied Lord H----. "He is in safety, and of that
safety I have no right to deprive him; it would make me an accessory
to their act. But I wish to see him, to tell him what has occurred,
and to consult him as to what is to be done."</p>
<p>"That is a very different case," replied the man, gravely, "and if
that's all you want, I don't mind telling you that he is in Albany, at
the public house of the Three Boatmen. Our people, who rowed him down,
said he did not intend to leave Albany for a week or more."</p>
<p>"And now, Robert," said Edith, "can you tell me where I can get a
messenger to the Oneidas? I know you loved my brother Walter, and I
think, if you can get somebody to go for me, we may save him."</p>
<p>"I did indeed love him well, Miss Prevost," replied the stout man,
with his hard, firm eye moistening, "and I'd do anything in reason to
save him. It's a sad thing we did not know of this yesterday, for
there was a half-breed Onondaga runner passed by and got some milk
from us, and I gave him the panther's skin which you told some of our
people to send, my lord, in the poor lad's name, to the daughter of
the old chief Black Eagle."</p>
<p>Edith turned her eyes to her lover's face, and Lord H---- replied to
their inquiring look, saying: "It is true, Edith. Walter shot a
panther in the woods, and wished to send the skin to Otaitsa. We had
no time to lose at the moment, but as we came back I induced the
guides to skin it, and made them promise to dry and send it forward by
the first occasion."</p>
<p>"I strapped it on his back myself," said the man whom Edith called
Robert, "and gave him the money you sent for him, too, my lord. He
would have taken my message readily enough, and one could have trusted
him; but it may be months before such another chance offers, I guess.
Look here, Miss Edith," he continued, turning toward her with his face
full of earnest expression, "I would go myself, but what would come of
it? They would only kill me instead of your brother, for one man is as
good as another to them in such cases, and perhaps he mightn't get
off, either. But I have a wife and two young children, ma'am, and that
makes me not quite so ready to risk my life as I was a few years ago."</p>
<p>"It is not to be thought of," said Edith, calmly. "I could ask no one
to go but one at least partly of their own race, for it must be the
blood of a white man they spill, I know. All I can desire you to do
is, for Master Walter's sake and mine, to seek for one of the Indian
runners who are often about Albany, and about the army, and send him
up to me."</p>
<p>"You see, Miss Prevost," replied the man, "there are not so many about
as there used to be, for it is coming on winter; and as to the army,
when Lord Loudon took it to Halifax almost all the runners and scouts
were discharged. Some of them remained with Webb, it is true, but a
number of those were killed and scalped by Montcalm's Hurons. However,
I will make it my business to seek one, night and day, and send him
up."</p>
<p>"Let it be someone on whom we can depend," said Edith; "someone whom
you have tried and can trust."</p>
<p>"That makes it harder still," said the man; "for though I have tried
many of them, I can trust few of them. However, I will see, and not be
long about it, either. But it would be quite nonsense to send you a
man who might either never do your message at all, or go and tell
those you don't want to hear it."</p>
<p>"It would, indeed," said Edith, sadly, as all the difficulties and
risks which lay in the way of success were suggested to her by the
man's words. "Well, do your best, Robert," she said, at length, after
some thought, "and as you will have to pay the man, here is the money
for----"</p>
<p>"You can pay him yourself, ma'am," replied the boatman, bluntly. "As
for taking any myself for helping poor Master Walter, that's what I
won't do. When I've got to take an oar in hand, or anything of that
kind, I make the people pay fast enough what my work is worth, perhaps
a little more, sometimes," he added, with a laugh, "but not for such
work as this--no! no! not for such work as this! So good-bye, Miss
Prevost; good-bye, my lord. I won't let the grass grow under my feet
in looking for some messenger."</p>
<p>Thus saying, he left the room, and Edith and Lord H---- were once more
left alone together. Sad and gloomy was their conversation,
uncheckered by any of those light beams of love and joy which Edith
had fondly fancied were to light her future hours. All was dim and
obscure in the future, and the point upon which both their eyes turned
most intently in the dark, shadowy curtain of coming time was the
murkiest and most obscure of all. Still, whatever plan was suggested,
whatever course of action was thought of, difficulties rose up to
surround it, and perils presented themselves on all sides.</p>
<p>Nor did the presence of Mr. Prevost, who joined them soon after, tend
in any degree to support or to direct. He had lost all hope, at least
for the time, and the only thing which seemed to afford him a faint
gleam of light was the thought of communicating immediately with
Brooks.</p>
<p>"I fear Sir William Johnson will do nothing," he said; "he is so
devoted even to the smallest interests of the government, his whole
mind is so occupied with this one purpose of cementing the alliance
between Britain and the Five Nations, that on my life I believe he
would suffer any man's son to be butchered rather than risk offending
an Indian tribe."</p>
<p>"In his position it is very difficult for him to act," said Lord
H----, "but it might be as well to ascertain his feelings and his
views by asking his advice as to how you should act yourself. Counsel
he will be very willing to give, I am sure, and in the course of
conversation you might discover how much and how little you may expect
from his assistance."</p>
<p>"But you said, my dear lord, that you were yourself going to Albany
to-morrow to see poor Brooks," said Mr. Prevost. "I cannot leave Edith
here alone."</p>
<p>All three mused for a moment or two, and Edith, perhaps, the deepest
of all. At length, however, she said: "I am quite safe, my father; of
that I am certain; and you will be so, I am sure, when you remember
what I told you of Black Eagle's conduct to me on that fatal night. He
threw his blanket around me and called me his daughter. Depend upon
it, long ere this, the news that I am his adopted child has spread
through all the tribes, and no one would dare to lift his hand against
me."</p>
<p>"I can easily----" said Lord H----.</p>
<p>But Edith interrupted him gently, saying: "Stay, George--one moment!
Let my father answer. Do you not think, my dear father, that I am
quite safe? In a word, do you not believe that I could go from lodge
to lodge as the adopted daughter of Black Eagle, throughout the whole
length of the Long House of the Five Nations, without the slightest
risk of danger? And if so, why should you fear?"</p>
<p>"I do indeed believe you could," replied Mr. Prevost. "Oh, that we
could have extracted such an act from him toward poor Walter! What
Edith says is right, my lord; we must judge these Indians as we know
them, and my only fear in leaving her here now would arise in the
risks of incursion from the other side of the Hudson."</p>
<p>Lord H---- mused a little. It struck him there was something strange
in Edith's way of putting the question to her father, something too
precise, too minute to be called for by any of the words which had
been spoken. It excited nothing like suspicion in his mind, for it was
hardly possible to look into the face or hear the tones of Edith
Prevost, and entertain so foul a thing as suspicion. But it made him
doubt whether she had not some object, high and noble, he was sure,
beyond the immediate point, which she did not think fit, as yet, to
reveal.</p>
<p>"I was about to say," he replied at length, to the last words of Mr.
Prevost, "that I can easily move a guard up here sufficient to protect
the house; and I need not tell you, my dear sir," he continued, taking
Edith's hand, "as the whole treasure of my happiness is here, that I
would not advise you to leave her for an hour unless I felt sure she
would be safe. I will send down by some of the men who are still in
the house an order to Captain Hammond to march a guard here as early
as possible to-morrow morning, under a trustworthy sergeant. As soon
as it arrives I will set out for Albany; and I think you can go to
Johnson's Castle in perfect security."</p>
<p>So it was arranged, and all parties felt no inconsiderable relief when
some course of action was thus decided. Effort, in this world, is
everything. Even the waters of joy will stagnate; and the greatest
relief to care or sorrow, the strongest in danger or adversity, is
effort.</p>
<p>The morning of the following day broke fresh and beautiful. There was
a bright clearness in the sky, a brisk elasticity in the air, that had
not been seen or felt for weeks. Everything looked sparkling, and
sharp, and distinct. Distances were diminished; woods and hills which
had looked dim appeared near and definite; and the whole world seemed
in harmony with energy and effort. The heavy rains of the preceding
morning had cleared the loaded atmosphere, as tears will sometimes
clear the oppressed breast, and when Lord H---- and Mr. Prevost
mounted their horses to set out, it seemed as if the invigorating air
had restored to the latter the firmness and courage of which the grief
and horror of the preceding day had deprived him.</p>
<p>Edith embraced her father, and gave her cheek to the warm touch of her
lover's lips; and then she watched them as they rode away till the
wood shut them out from her sight. The soldiers were by this time
installed in the part of the house destined for them, and some of the
negroes were busy in preparing for their accommodation; but old
Agrippa and the gardener boy, and a woman servant stood near, watching
their master and his guest as they departed. As soon as the little
party was out of sight, however, Edith turned to Agrippa, saying:
"Send Chaudo to me in the parlor; I want to speak with him."</p>
<p>As soon as the man appeared she gazed at him earnestly, saying: "How
far is it to Oneida Lake, Chaudo--have you ever been there?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, Missy, often when I was a little boy. Why, you know, my
fadder ran away and live wid Ingins long time, 'cause he had bad
master. But Ingins cuff him, and thump him more nor worst massa in the
world, and so he come back again. How far be it? Oh, long way; twice
so far as Johnson Castle, or more. Oh, yes; three times so far."</p>
<p>Edith knew how vague a negro's ideas of distance are, and she then put
her question in a form which would get her a more distinct answer.</p>
<p>"Bethink you, Chaudo," she said, "how long it would take me to reach
the lake--how long it would take anyone. Consider it well, and let me
know."</p>
<p>"You, Missy! You!" cried the negro, in great astonishment. "You never
think of going there?"</p>
<p>"I don't know, Chaudo," she replied. "It might be needful, and I wish
to know how long it would take."</p>
<p>"Dat 'pend upon how you go, Missy," replied the man; "ride so far as
Johnson Castle, but can't ride no farder. Den walk as I walk? You
never do dat; and if you do, take you five days, and walk hard, too."</p>
<p>Poor Edith's heart sank. "Otaitsa walks," she said, in a desponding
tone; "but it is true she can do much that I cannot do."</p>
<p>"She walk? Oh, dear no, Missy!" replied the negro. "She walk little
bit o' way from what dey call Wood Creek, or from de Mohawk. She walk
no farder; all de rest she go in canoe, sometimes on Mohawk, sometimes
on lake, sometimes on creek. She came here, once, in t'ree day, I hear
old Gray Buzzard, de pipe-bearer, say, that time when de sachem come
wid his warriors."</p>
<p>"And can I do the same?" asked Edith, eagerly.</p>
<p>"Sure you can, if you get canoe," answered Chaudo; "but oh, Missy,
t'ink ob de Ingins! They kidnap Massa Walter; dey kill you, too!"</p>
<p>"There is no fear, Chaudo," replied Edith. "Even my father owns that I
could safely go from one lodge to another, through the whole land of
the Five Nations, because Black Eagle has put his blanket round me and
made me his daughter."</p>
<p>"Massa know best," said Chaudo; "but if so, why dey kidnap Massa
Walter?"</p>
<p>"Black Eagle refused to make him his son, or my father his brother,"
said Edith, with the tears rising in her eyes. "But the truth is,
Chaudo, that I go to try if I can save poor Walter's life. I go to
tell the Blossom that they hold my Walter--her Walter--a prisoner, and
see whether she cannot find means to rescue him."</p>
<p>"I see, I see, Missy!" said the man, gravely. And then, after pausing
for a moment, he asked, abruptly: "I go with you?"</p>
<p>"Someone I must have, to show me the way," replied Edith. "Are you
afraid, Chaudo?"</p>
<p>"Afraid!" cried the man, bursting into a fit of joyous laughter. "Oh,
no, not afraid! Ingins no hurt nigger; kick him, cuff him; no scalp
him, 'cause nigger got no scalp-lock. Ha! ha! ha! I go help save Massa
Walter. He never hab no good thing but he give Chaudo some. Oh, I'll
manage all for you. We find plenty canoe, Mohawk canoe, Oneida canoe,
if we say you Black Eagle's daughter, going to see you sister Otaitsa.
When you go, Missy?"</p>
<p>"Very soon, Chaudo," replied Edith, and proceeded to explain her plan
to him still farther. She said that she wished to set out that very
day, and as soon as possible, in order, first, to communicate the
tidings of Walter's capture to Otaitsa without delay; and secondly, to
save her father as many hours of anxiety as possible. She did not
absolutely tell the man that she had not informed her father of her
intention, but he divined it well. Nevertheless, when he heard
somewhat more at large the conduct of Black Eagle toward her on the
night of poor Walter's capture, he was quite satisfied of her safety
as far as the Indians were concerned. He urged her, however, to go in
the first place to Johnson Castle, where she could procure a canoe, or
even a batteau, he felt certain; and it was long before he
comprehended her objection to that course. At length, however, his
usual "I see, I see!" showed that he had caught a light at last, and
then he was soon ready with his resources.</p>
<p>"Den we walk to the nearest end of little pond; only t'ree mile," he
said, "fishing canoe all ready; next we go down little pond and de
creek into lake, keep by nort' side, and den walk to Mohawk, t'ree
mile more. I carry canoe 'cross on my back. Den, Ingin or no Ingin, we
get along. If Missy like to take oder nigger, too, we get on very
fast, and he carry bundle."</p>
<p>"I must have one of the women with me," said Edith, in a thoughtful
tone, "but which?"</p>
<p>The negro's countenance fell a little. He was very proud of the
confidence placed in him, and he did not like to share it with a white
woman. His tone, then, was rather dejected, though submissive, when he
asked: "Do Missy take white woman, Sally, wid her? Sally no walk.
Sally no run. Sally no paddle when Chaudo is tired."</p>
<p>"No," replied Edith at once. "I can take no white person with me,
Chaudo, for it would risk her life; and even to save my poor brother I
must not lure another into sad peril. One of your color, Chaudo, they
will not hurt; for it is a white man's blood they will have for a
white man's act."</p>
<p>"Then take Sister Bab!" cried Chaudo, rubbing his hands, with the
peculiar, low negro chuckle. "Sister Bab walk, run, carry bundle, and
twirl paddle wid anybody."</p>
<p>Now Bab was a stout negro woman of about forty years of age, with a
pleasant countenance and very fine white teeth, who rejoiced in the
cognomen of sister, though, to the best of Edith's knowledge, she was
sister to no one--in the house, at least. Her usual occupations were
in the farmyard, the dairy, and the pigsty; so that Edith had not seen
very much of her; but all that she had seen was pleasant, for Sister
Bab seemed continually on the watch to do everything for everybody,
receiving every order, even from "Master Walter," who was sometimes a
little inconsiderate, with a broad, good-humored grin; and her
constant activity and indefatigable energy promised well for an
undertaking such as that in which Edith was engaged.</p>
<p>"Well, Chaudo," said the young lady, "I do not know that I could make
a better choice. Send Sister Bab to me, for where dangers such as
these are to be encountered, I will not take anyone without her own
free consent."</p>
<p>"Oh, she go, I talk wid her," said Chaudo; "you nebber trouble
yourself, Missy. She go to world's end with Miss Edith, and fight like
debbel if dere be need. I nebber saw woman so good at catching fish;
she'd hook 'em out like cabbages."</p>
<p>"That may be useful to us, too," said Edith, with a faint smile; "but
send her to me, nevertheless, Chaudo; I want to speak with her before
I go."</p>
<p>The good woman, when she came, made not the slightest objection; but,
on the contrary, looked upon the expedition as something very amusing,
which would give a relief to the tedium of her daily labors, and at
the same time afford full occupation for her active spirit. She was as
ready with suggestions as Chaudo; told Edith everything she had better
take with her, detailed all her own proposed preparations, and even
begged for a rifle, declaring that she was as good a shot as "Massa
Walter," and had often fired his gun when he had brought it home
undischarged. Edith declined, however, to have a riflewoman in her
train; and having told her two chosen attendants that she would be
ready in an hour, retired to make her preparations, and write a few
lines to her father and her lover to account for her absence when they
returned. Both letters were brief, but we will only look at that which
she left for Mr. Prevost.</p>
<br/>
<p>"My dear father," she said, "I am half afraid I am doing wrong in
taking the step I am about to take, without your knowledge or
approbation; but I cannot sit still and do nothing while all are
exerting themselves to save my poor brother. I feel that it is
absolutely necessary to any hope for his safety that Otaitsa should be
informed immediately of his situation. It may be months before any
Indian runner is found, and my poor brother's fate may be sealed. Were
it to cost my life, I should think myself bound to go. But I am the
only one who can go in perfect safety; for, while promising his
protection to me, and insuring me against all danger, the Black Eagle
refused to give any assurance in regard to others. You have yourself
acknowledged, my dear father, that I shall be perfectly safe; and I
have also the advantage of speaking the Indian tongue well. In these
circumstances would it not be wrong, would it not be criminal in me to
remain here idle when I have even a chance of saving my poor brother?
Forgive me, then, if I do wrong, on account of the motives which lead
me.</p>
<p>"My course is straight to the Mohawk, by the little pond and the lake,
and then up the Mohawk and Wood Creek as far as they will carry me;
for I wish to save myself as much fatigue as possible, and I venture
to take the canoe from the pond. I have asked Chaudo and Sister Bab to
accompany me, as I know you would wish me to have protection and
assistance on the way, in case of any difficulty. I hope to be back in
six days at the farthest; and, if possible, I will send a runner to
inform you of my safe arrival amongst the Oneidas. Once more, my dear
father, think of the great object I have in view, and forgive your
affectionate daughter."</p>
<br/>
<p>When these letters were written, Edith dressed herself in full Indian
costume, which had been given her by Otaitsa; and a beautiful Indian
maiden she looked, though the skin was somewhat too fair and her hair
wanted the jetty black. In the Indian pouch, or wallet, she placed
some articles of European convenience, and a large hunting knife; and
then, making up a small package of clothes for Sister Bab to carry,
she descended to the lower story. Here, however, she met with some
impediments which she had not expected. The news of her proposed
expedition had spread through the whole household and caused almost an
open revolt. The white women were in tears; old Agrippa was clamorous;
and the fat black cook declared loudly that Miss Edith was mad, and
should not go. So far, indeed, did she carry her opposition, that the
young lady was obliged to assume a stern and severe tone, which was
seldom heard in Edith's voice, and command her to retire at once from
her presence. The poor woman was at once overawed, for her courage was
not very permanent, and, bursting into tears, she left the room,
declaring she was sure she should never see Miss Edith again.</p>
<p>Edith then gave all the keys of the house to old Agrippa, with the two
letters which she had written; Chaudo took up the bag of provisions
which he had prepared; Sister Bab charged herself with the package of
clothes; and Edith, walking between them, turned away from her
father's house, amidst the tears of the white women, and a vociferous
burst of grief from the negroes.</p>
<p>Her own heart sank for a moment, and she asked herself, "Shall I ever
pass that threshold again? Shall I ever be pressed hereafter in the
arms of those I so much love?"</p>
<p>But she banished such feelings, and drove away such thoughts; and
murmuring, "My brother--my poor brother!" she walked on.</p>
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