CHAPTER XVII.

Day broke slowly and heavily under a gray cloud, and found Lord H---- and the Indian chief still seated side by side at the entrance of the farmhouse. A word or two had passed between them in the earlier part of the night; but for many hours before dawn they had remained perfectly silent. Only once, through the hours of their vigil, had the Black Eagle moved from his seat, and that was nearly at midnight. The ears of Lord H---- had been upon the watch, as well as his own; but, though the English nobleman heard no sound, the chief caught a distant footfall about a quarter before twelve; and, starting up, he listened attentively.

Then moving slowly towards the door, he stood there a few moments, as still as a statue. Presently Lord H---- caught the sound which had moved him, though it was exceedingly light; and the next instant another dusky figure, not quite so tall as that of the chief, darkened the moonlight, and threw its shadow into the doorway.

A few words then passed between the two Indians in their native tongue, at first low and musical in tone, but then rising high in accents, which seemed to the ear of the listener to express grief or anger. Not more than five sentences were spoken on either part, and then the last comer bounded away with a quick and seemingly reckless step into the forest; and the old chief returned, and seated himself, assuming exactly the same attitude as before.

When day dawned, however, Black Eagle rose, and said in English,--

"Now, my brother, let the voice of the Cataract awake the maiden, and I will lead you on the way. Her horse has not yet come; but, if it have not run with the wind or fed upon the fire, it will be here speedily."

"Do you know, then, what became of it after it broke away from us?" asked Lord H----.

"Nay," answered the Indian, "I know not; but my steps were in yours, from the setting sun till you came hither. I was there for your safety, my brother, and for the safety of the maiden."

"We should often have been glad of your advice," observed Lord H----; "for we were sometimes in sore need of better information than our own."

"The man who aids himself needs no aid," answered Black Eagle. "Thou wert sufficient for the need; why should I take from thee the right to act?"

As they were speaking, the light step of Edith was heard upon the stairs; and the eyes of Black Eagle were fixed upon her, as she descended, with a look which seemed to Lord H---- to have some significance, though he could not tell exactly in what the peculiarity consisted. It was calm and grave; but there was a sort of tenderness in it, which, without knowing why, made the young nobleman fear that the Indian was aware of some evil having befallen Mr. Prevost.

His mind was soon relieved, however; for, when Edith had descended, the chief said at once,--

"Thy father is safe, my daughter. He passed through the fire uninjured, and is in his own lodge."

Edith looked pale and worn, but the words of the chief called a joyful smile upon her face and the colour back into her cheek. In answer to the inquiries of Lord H----, she admitted that she had slept hardly at all, and added, with a returning look of anxiety, "How could I sleep, so uncertain as I was of my father's safety?"

She expressed an anxious desire to go forward as soon as possible, and not to wait for the chance of her horse being caught by the Indians, which she readily comprehended as the meaning of the Black Eagle, when his somewhat ambiguous words were reported to her.

"They may catch him," she said, "or they may not; and my father will be very anxious, I know, till he sees me. I can walk quite well."

The Indian was standing silently at the door, to which he had turned after informing her of her father's safety; and Lord H----, taking her hand, inquired in a low tone if she would be afraid to stay alone with the Black Eagle for a few moments, while he sought for some food for herself and him.

"Not in the least," she answered. "After his words last night, and the throwing of his blanket round me, I am as safe with him as Otaitsa would be. From that moment he looked upon me as his daughter, and would treat me as such in any emergency."

"Well then, I will not be long," returned Lord H----; and, passing the Indian, he said, "I leave her to your care for a few moments, Black Eagle."

The Indian only answered by a sort of guttural sound, peculiar to his people; and then turning back into the house, he seated himself on the ground as before, and seemed inclined to remain in silence. But there were doubts in Edith's mind which she wished to have solved; and she said, "Is not my father thy brother, Black Eagle?"

"He is my brother," answered the Indian, laconically, and relapsed into silence.

"Will a great chief suffer any harm to happen to his brother?" asked Edith again, after considering for a few moments how to shape her question.

"No warrior of the Totem of the Tortoise dare raise a tomahawk against the brother of the Black Eagle," answered the chief.

"But is not Black Eagle the great chief of the Oneidas?" said Edith again. "Do not the people of the Stone hear his voice? Is he not to them as the rock on which their house is founded? Whither in the sky could the Oneidas soar if the Black Eagle led them not? And shall they disobey his voice?"

"The people of the Stone have their laws," replied the chief, "which are thongs of leather, to bind each Sachem, and each Totem, and each warrior. They were whispered into the roll of Wampum which is in the hand of the great medicine-man, or priest, as you would call him; and the voice of the Black Eagle, though it be strong in war, is as the song of the bobolink, when compared to the voice of the laws."

Short as this conversation may seem when written down, it had occupied several minutes; for the Indian had made long pauses; and Edith, willing to humour him by adopting the custom of his people, had followed his example.

His last reply was hardly given, when Lord H---- returned, carrying a dry and rather hard loaf, and a jug of clear, cold water.

"I have not been very successful," he said; "for the people have evidently abandoned the place, and all their cupboards but one are locked up. In that, however, I found this loaf."

"They are squirrels who fly along the boughs at the sound of danger, and leave their stores hidden," said the Black Eagle. "But dip the bread in water, my daughter; it will give you strength by the way."

Lord H---- laid the loaf down upon the table, and hurried out of the room again; but Edith had little opportunity of questioning her dusky companion further before the nobleman's return. He was absent hardly two minutes; and when he came back he led his horse behind him, somewhat differently accoutred from the preceding day. The demi-pique saddle was now covered with a pillow firmly strapped on with some leathern thongs which he had found in the house, thus forming it into a sort of pad; and the two stirrups brought to one side, stretched as far apart as possible, and somewhat shortened, were kept extended by a piece of plank passed through the irons, and firmly attached; thus presenting a comfortable rest for the feet of any one sitting sideways on the horse.

Lord H---- had done many a thing in life on which he might reasonably pride himself. He had resisted temptations to which most men would have yielded; he had done many a gallant and noble deed; he had displayed great powers of mind, and high qualities of heart in terrible emergencies and moments of great difficulty; but it may be questioned whether he had ever smiled so complacently on any act of his whole life as on the rapid and successful alteration of his own inconvenient saddle into a comfortable lady's pad; and when he brought out Edith to the door, and she saw how he had been engaged, she could not help rewarding him with a beaming smile, in which amusement had a less share than gratitude. Even over the dark countenance of the Indian, trained to stoical apathy, something flitted, not unlike a smile.

Lifting his fair charge in his arms, Lord H---- seated her lightly on the horse's back, adjusted the rest for her feet with care, and then took the bridle, to lead her on the way. The Indian chief, without a word, walked on before, at a pace with which the horse's swiftest walk could hardly keep up; and crossing the cleared land around the house, they were soon once more under the branches of the forest.

More than once the Black Eagle had to pause and lean upon his rifle, waiting for his two companions; but, doubtless, it was the difficulties of the narrow path, never made for horses' hoofs, and not the pleasure of prolonging conversation, and of gazing up, the while, into a pair of as beautiful eyes as ever shone upon mortal man, or into a face which might have looked out of heaven and not have shamed the sky, that retarded the nobleman on his way.

Six miles were at length accomplished; and then they came into the military high-road again, which led within a short distance of Mr. Prevost's cottage. During the whole journey, the Indian chief had not uttered a word; but as soon as he had issued forth from the narrow path into the more open road, he paused, and waited till Edith came up; then, pointing with his hand, he said--

"Thou knowest the way, my daughter; thou hast no more need of me; the Black Eagle must wing his way back to his own rock."

"But shall we be safe?" asked Edith.

"As in the happy hunting-grounds," replied the chief. And, turning away, he re-entered the trail by which they came.

Their pace was not much quicker than it had been in the more difficult path. The seal seemed to be taken from Lord H----'s lips. He felt that Edith was safe--nearer home, no longer left completely to his mercy and his delicacy, and his words were tender and full of strong affection; but she laid her hand gently upon his as it rested on the peak of the saddle, and with a face glowing as if the leaves of the autumn maples had cast a reflection from their crimson hues upon it, she said--

"Oh, not now, not now--for Heaven's sake spare me a little, still."

He gazed up in her face with a look of earnest inquiry; but he saw something there, either in the half-veiled swimming eyes, or in the glowing cheek, or the agitated quivering of the lip, which was enough to satisfy him.

"Forgive me," he said, in a deprecatory tone; but then, the moment after he added, with frank soldierly boldness, "Dear Edith, I may thank you now, and thank you with my whole heart; for I am not a confident fool, and you are no light coquette; and did you hesitate, you would say more."

Edith bent her head almost to the saddle-bow; and some bright drops rolled over her cheek. The companions remained silent, each communing with his and her own thoughts for a short time.

They were roused from somewhat agitated reveries by a loud and joyous call; and, looking up the ascent before them, they saw Mr. Prevost on horseback, and two of the negro slaves on foot, coming down as if to meet them. They hurried on fast. The father and daughter sprang to the ground; and oh, with what joy she felt herself in his arms!

It is a mistake to think that affection cannot be divided. Love is like the banyan tree, which increases its own volume by casting forth shoots in every direction; and each separate branch grows and strengthens by the other. At that moment--with her whole bosom thrilling with new emotions--with love for another acknowledged to her own soul--with the earnest looking forward to happiness with him,--oh, how much more strongly than ever she had felt it before, did Edith feel her love for her father! What relief, what comfort, what happiness, it was to her to find herself in those fond paternal arms!

It is unnecessary to give here the explanations that ensued. Mr. Prevost had little to tell. He had passed safely, though not without much danger and the scorching of his clothes and face, along the course of the stream, and through a small part of the thicker wood. He had found his house and all the buildings safe, and even the forest immediately around still free from the fire, and out of danger, as long as the wind remained easterly. Satisfied that his daughter would find the farmer's family, and be kindly entertained, he had felt no anxiety on her account, till about an hour before, when her horse had come back to the house with the saddle and housings scorched and blackened, and the hoofs nearly burnt off his feet. In great alarm for Edith, Mr. Prevost had set out to seek her in haste. Her tale was soon told; and again and again Mr. Prevost shook her protector's hand, thanking him earnestly for all he had done for his child.

The distance to the house was not now great; and, giving the horses to the negroes, the little party proceeded on foot, talking over the events of the last few hours. When they reached the house, there were somewhat obstreperous screams of joy from the women-servants, to see their young mistress return; and Edith was speedily carried away to her chamber for rest and refreshment. Breakfast was immediately prepared in the hall for Lord H----, who had tasted no food since the middle of the preceding day; but he ate little even now, and there was a sort of restlessness about him which Mr. Prevost remarked with some anxiety.

"My lord, you hardly taste your food," he said; "and either seem not well, or not well at ease. I trust you have no subject of grief or apprehension pressing on your mind?"

"None whatever," replied Lord H----, with a smile; "but, to tell you the truth, my dear sir, I am impatient for a few moments' conversation with you, alone; and I could well have spared my breakfast till they were over. Pray let us go into the other room, where we shall not be interrupted."

Mr. Prevost led the way, and closed the door after them, with a grave face; for, as is usual in such cases, he had not the faintest idea of what was coming.

"Our acquaintance has been very short, Mr. Prevost," said Lord H----, as soon as they were seated--feeling, indeed, more hesitation and embarrassment than he had imagined he could have experienced in such circumstances; "but I trust you have seen enough of me, taken together with what you may know by general repute, to make what I am going to say not very presumptuous."

Mr. Prevost gazed at him in perfect astonishment, unable to conceive where his speech would end; and, as the nobleman paused, he answered, "Pray speak on, my lord. Believe me, I have the highest esteem and regard for you. Your character and conduct through life have, I well know, added lustre to your rank: and noble blood has justified itself in you by noble actions. What on earth can you have to say which could make me think you presumptuous for a moment?"

"Simply this, and perhaps you _may_ think me presumptuous when I have said it," replied Lord H----: "I am going to ask you to give me something, which I value very much, and which you rightly value as much as anything you possess. I mean your daughter. Nay, do not start, and turn so pale! I know all the importance of what I ask; but I have now passed many days entirely in her society,--I have gone through some difficulties and dangers with her, as you know--scenes and sensations which endear two persons to each other. I have been much in woman's society,--I have known the bright and the beautiful in many lands; perhaps my expectations have been too great--my wishes too exacting; but I never met woman hitherto who touched my heart. I have now found the only one whom I can love; and I ask her of you with a full consciousness of how much it is I ask."

Mr. Prevost had remained profoundly silent, with his eyes bent down, and his cheek, as Lord H---- had said, very pale. There was a great struggle in his heart, as there must be always in a parent's bosom in such circumstances.

"She is very young--so very young,--just seventeen!" he murmured, speaking to himself rather than to his companion.

"I may, indeed, be somewhat too old for her," said Lord H----, thoughtfully; "yet, I trust, in heart and spirit at least, Mr. Prevost, I have still all the freshness of youth about me."

"Oh, it is not that--it is not that at all," answered Edith's father; "it is that she is so very young to take upon herself both cares and duties. True, she is no ordinary girl, and perhaps if ever any one was fit at so early an age for the great responsibilities of such a state, it is Edith. Her education has been singular--unlike that of any other girl."

Mr. Prevost had wandered away, as was his custom, from the immediate question to collateral issues; and was no longer considering whether he should give his consent to Edith's marriage with Lord H----, but whether she was fit for the marriage state at all, and what effect the education she had received would have upon her conduct as a wife. The lover, in the mean time, habitually attaching himself and every thought to one important object, was impatient for something more definite; and he ventured to break across Mr. Prevost's spoken reverie, by saying--

"Our marriage would be necessarily delayed, Mr. Prevost, for some time, even if I obtain your consent. May I hope that it will be granted to me--if no personal objection exists towards myself?"

"None in the world!" exclaimed Mr. Prevost, eagerly "You cannot suppose it for a moment, my dear lord. All I can say is, that I will oppose nothing which Edith calmly and deliberately thinks is for her own happiness. What does she say herself?"

"She says nothing," answered Lord H----, with a smile; "for, though she cannot doubt what are my feelings towards her, she has not been put to the trial of giving any answer, without your expressed approbation. May I believe, then, that I have your permission to offer her my hand?"

"Beyond a doubt," replied Mr. Prevost. "Let me call her; her answer will soon be given, for she is not one to trifle with anybody."

He rose as he spoke, as if to quit the room; but Lord H---- stopped him, saying,--

"Not yet, not yet, my dear sir. She had little, if any, rest last night, and has had much fatigue and anxiety during the last twenty-four hours. Probably she is taking some repose, and I must not allow even a lover's impatience to deprive her of that."

"I had forgotten," said Mr. Prevost. "It is, indeed, true, that the dear child must need some repose. It is strange, my lord, how sorrows and joys blend themselves together in all events of mortal life. I had thought, when in years long ago I entwined my fingers in the glossy curls of my Edith's hair, and, looking through the liquid crystal of her eyes, seemed to see into the deep fountains of pure emotions in her young heart--I had thought, I say, that few joys would be equal to that of seeing her at some future day bestow her hand on a man worthy of her, to make and partake the happiness of a cheerful home. But now I find the thought has its bitter as well as sweet; and memories of the grave rise up, to cast a solemn shade over the bright picture fancy drew."

His tone dropped gradually as he spoke, and, fixing his eyes again upon the ground, he relapsed into absent thought.

Lord H---- would not disturb his friend's reverie, and, walking gently out of the room, he gave himself also up to meditation. But his reflective moods were of a different kind from those of his friend--more eager, more active; and they required some employment for the limbs, while the mind was so busy. To and fro he walked before the house, for nearly an hour, before Mr. Prevost came forth and joined him, and then the walk still continued; but the father's thoughts, though they had wandered for awhile, soon returned to his daughter, and their conversation was of Edith only.

At length, when it was nearly noon, as they turned upon the little open space of ground in front of the dwelling, the eyes of the nobleman, which had been turned more than once to the door, rested on Edith, as she stood in the hall and gazed forth over the prospect.

"The fire seems to be raging there still," she said, pointing with her fair hand over the country towards the south-west, where hung a dense canopy of smoke above the forest. "What a blessing one of our heavy autumnal rains would be!"

Lord H---- made no reply, but suddenly left her father's side, and, taking the extended hand in his, led her into the little sitting-room.

Shall we follow them thither, and listen to the words they spoke--shall we tear the veil from that young, innocent, gentle heart, and show, in the broad glare, the shy emotions only fitted to be seen by one eye beside that of God? Oh, no! They remained long together--to Mr. Prevost it seemed very long; but when Edith's lover led her to the door again, happy tears were once more in her eyes, glad blushes on her cheek; and, though the strong, manly arm was fondly thrown around her waist, she escaped from its warm clasp, and cast herself upon the bosom of her father.

"She is mine!" ejaculated Lord H----; "she is mine!"

"But none the less mine," answered Mr. Prevost kissing her cheek.

"Oh no," said Edith, "no! Always yours, my dear father--your child." And then she added, while the glowing blood rushed over her beautiful face, like the gush of morning over a white cloud, "_your_ child, though his wife."

It cost her an effort to utter the word; yet she was pleased to speak it; but then, the moment after, as if to hide it from memory again, she said, "Oh, that dear Walter were here! He would be very happy, I know, and say I had come to the end of my day-dreaming."

"He will be here probably to-night," observed her lover.

"We must not count upon it," rejoined her father; "he may meet with many things to detain him. But now, my children, I will go in, and make up my journal, till the dinner hour."

Edith leaned fondly on his bosom, and whispered, "And write that this has been one happy day, my father."

Alas, alas! that the brightest sunshine and the softest sky should so often precede the day of storms! Alas, that the dark tempest-clouds should be so frequently gathering beneath the horizon all around us, when the sky above seems full of hope and promise! But so it is too often in this life. The old geographers' fancied figure of the earth was very like the earth on which human hopes are raised--a fair and even plain, with a yawning precipice all round it.