Chapter 6

Nature I court in her sequestered haunts, By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove or cell, Where the poised lark his evening ditty chaunts, And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell.

SMOLLETT.

So long had the soldier been delayed by his interviews with Prudence and the Assistant, that it was not until past noon that he reached the knight's residence. It was a large, irregularly built log-cabin, or cottage, covered with thatch, resembling somewhat, except in the last particular, and in being larger, the log-cabins one meets in the new settlements of the West, with a sort of piazza or porch, which seemed to have been lately built, running across the front. Such was the rude exterior; though the interior, as we shall presently see, when we enter the building, was furnished in a style indicating both wealth and refinement.

The house stood near the bottom of a hill, upon a piece of cleared land of perhaps half a dozen acres, upon which not the vestige of a stump was to be seen. The ground sloped gently away from the building to the southeast, until it met a small stream, which meandered at the base of the hill, and running in an easterly direction, was lost to sight in the forest. In front of the house, at the distance of a rod, bubbled up a bright spring, which, dashing down the declivity, fell into the first-mentioned stream. Except this cultivated spot, which had been an old corn-field of the natives, selected by them for the fertility of the soil, its advantage of water, and the favorable slope of the land, which enabled it to engross more than a common share of the genial heat of the sun, and expedite the maturing of its harvests, all was one unbroken extent of forest. In the soft autumnal days, when the maize leaves rustled yellow on their stalks, it must have looked to the soaring eagle, gazing from his "pride of place," like a vast nest in a green leafy frame.

Around this building, at some little distance, viz., at the edge of the encircling forest, were scattered some four or five wigwams, or Indian lodges, made of the bark of trees, from some of which smoke curled lazily up into the blue sky, imparting assurance thereby of their being inhabited, though the presence of some naked children near the entrances, who were shooting with little bows at marks, and amusing themselves in other ways, made any such indication unnecessary.

As the soldier drew near, he heard more and more distinctly musical sounds, and presently could distinguish the tinkling of a guitar, accompanied by a female voice. He stopped and listened. The air was slow and solemn, the notes were soft and clear, and the words sweet, but not English. There was a rich luxuriance, yet pathos in the music, like the utterances of a spirit whose hopes were mingled with reminiscences of joys which it had lost. How long Philip listened, he knew not, so entranced was he by the sounds. It was a long time since he had heard such delicious strains, and the effect upon him was therefore the greater. Suddenly they ceased, as if his approach had been discovered, and immediately thereafter, a man stepped out upon the piazza. Philip recognized him at once as the young man to whom Prudence had sent a message, and whom he himself had called Master Arundel.

He was a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three or four years, with that clear, bright complexion so common among the English, and which they owe to their foggy climate and habit of exercise in the open air. Dark blue eyes looked out joyously from a handsome face, which would have been effeminate, so delicate were the features and rosy the tint of the cheeks, but for a brown moustache, which shaded the lip, and redeemed it from the imputation. His doublet and hose were of a dark green cloth, as was also the cap he held in his hand, and he wore boots made of yellow leather, reaching above the knee, and full at the top. Around his neck was a white band, like those worn by the wealthier colonists. This young gentleman first spoke.

"Ha! Achilles, or Coeur de Lion from captivity," or to fashion my speech more into the humor of this new world, "O, Daniel from the lion's den, greatly doth my heart rejoice at thy deliverance." "Welcome, good Philip," he added, in a more natural tone, betraying some sympathy, and taking him at the same time by the hand; "welcome to your friends."

The tired soldier sank down upon a bench before he was able to speak.

"Thy tongue is dry, and moves slowly, and, now that I regard thee more closely, art pale. We must cheer up thy drooping spirit"

"Having thus spoken, the young man entered the house, and presently returned with a flagon and drinking cups.

"Drink, man," said Arundel, filling a cup with wine, "and wash all sorrow out of thine heart. The suns that ripened the grapes out of which this juice was crushed, were bright and joyous. May they impart their own happiness and vigor unto thee."

The soldier put the cup to his lips, nor withdrew it until the contents were drained.

"I feel," he said, "the good wine tingling through all my veins, and am a new man again."

"Fill once more," said the young man, suiting the action to the word; "one shower is not enough for so thirsty a soil."

The soldier did not refuse, and having drank a second time, he felt refreshed.

"Pleasant enough quarters, Master Arundel," he said, looking around; "and I see ye have some red-skins camped near by."

"They are the knight's particular friends, whose society it seems to be his sovereign pleasure to cultivate. He has persuaded them to gather round him, forming what may be called his body-guard."

"Or outposts of the main garrison. Well, for runners or scouts they may answer, but for hand-to-hand action, they are naught. But where is Sir Christopher?"

"He started on a hunt this morning, our larder having run low. Hark!" he added, as suddenly the blast of a bugle was heard echoing through the forest, "that is the sound wherewith he is accustomed to announce his approach, and you will presently see him coming out of the wood."

Sure enough, in a few moments the tall form of the knight, arrayed in a deer-skin hunting-shirt, with leggins of the same material, and "a piece" in his hand, was seen emerging into the open space. He was followed by a couple of Indians, each of whom bore on his shoulders a deer.

"Quecheco," the two white men heard him say, as he came out of the bushes, "carry thou thy deer to my lodge, and do thou, Pococke, divide thine with thy brother Quecheco." After speaking these words he advanced toward them.

"So, ho, Philip," cried Sir Christopher, "again under my banner. Fate hath decreed us I think for buenas camaradas, and for my part I heartily rejoice thereat. A braver heart than thine never beat under steel corselet, or truer hand wielded a sharp sword."

"I thank you, Sir Christopher, for your good opinion," said the soldier, "but I have seen little service since we parted among the Turbans, of whom somehow your wine sets me a thinking, at all to my mind. As for fighting these naked savages, who have nothing but children's bows and stone hatchets, while our men-at-arms are clad in bullet-proof steel from head to heel, methinks there is little manhood required therefor, and for what I have done in that way, I confess myself somewhat ashamed."

"It doth please me to hear thee speak thus, Philip," replied the knight. True valor is ever joined with generosity, and despises to take advantage of superior strength to crush the weaker. But fear not that I have any service of the kind for thee. I came not among these innocent natives to bring a sword, but the olive branch of peace. I would see them peaceful, and united, and happy, not broken into hostile clans, and delighting in murdering one another."

"I spoke not," said the soldier, "as desiring to make terms with you, Sir Christopher, well knowing that you would ask nothing which an honest man would be unwilling to perform, and am only too happy to enter your service."

"So be it, Philip," said the knight. "Henceforth be here thy home."

"Truly," exclaimed the soldier, stretching out his legs with a sigh of relief, "there is some difference between lying in a prison, or even talking with Master Spikeman in the bushes, as I did but just now, and being with good wine and noble gentlemen."

"Didst meet on thy way that most puritanical of Puritans, the praying, cheating, canting, hypocritical, long-faced Master Spikeman?" cried Arundel. "I wonder what new mischief he hath now on foot, for it is his meat?"

"Master Miles Arundel," said the knight, "thy language is too intemperate to be excused even by thy youth. Check the bitterness of thine expression, and know that he who rules his own spirit is greater than he who wins a kingdom."

A flash of haughty resentment lighted up the eyes of the young man at the reproof, but as he saw that no offence was designed, he answered:

"I expect never to win a kingdom, but as for this villain--"

"Peace, I entreat thee, my young friend," interrupted Sir Christopher. "I am curious to hear of Philip's treatment in his confinement, if he will favor us with an account thereof?"

Hereupon the soldier recounted to them all that had passed in his prison, including his interview with Spikeman, and attack on the jailer, and also the conversation in the wood, except those parts which had relation to Prudence.

"I see not," said Arundel, upon the conclusion of the narrative, "why the wily Assistant should be thine enemy, but he clearly is. Thou art honored in this respect as well as I."

"My mind doth misgive me that you are right," said Philip. "Away from him. He seems an arch villain, though in his presence the feeling changes, for he hath a tongue to wile a bird from the bough."

"Be sure I am not mistaken. See now whether Sir Christopher be not of the same opinion."

Thus appealed to, the knight answered:

"I fear that your judgment, Master Arundel, is correct, though caring not to enter into the reasons which have forced me to this conclusion. But we will endeavor to use such caution that any mischievous designs of his shall be defeated. Happily my homestead is not comprised within the limits of the colony, and the sentence of banishment is complied with, Philip being here."

Hereupon Sir Christopher rose and entered the house, and the soldier took advantage of his absence to deliver the message of Prudence, which, as he had threatened, he colored a little. With all his efforts he was unable to conceal the interest which he felt for the girl, but the young man good naturedly allowed him to suppose it unnoticed. In a short time the knight reappeared, and invited them in to dinner.

The apartment which they entered opened immediately upon the porch, and was a room some twenty feet square, constituting somewhat more than a quarter of the building. The walls were merely unhewn logs, divested of the bark, and filled in with a tenacious clay resembling mortar. Against them were nailed, or supported by wooden pegs, in divers places, branching horns of the moose and deer, over which were hung hunting-shirts and skins of various wild animals, tanned with the hair on. The antlers also, in many instances, supported guns, and swords, and hunting pouches, and powder-horns, and, in short, whatever might be necessary for attack or defence in war, and success in the chase. In the centre of the room a table for four or five persons was set, and a squaw was busy near a fire preparing the meal.

It was not long before the simple dinner, consisting principally of venison steaks and bread made of Indian corn, was placed by the squaw on the board, and the three men drew up, Philip manifesting some modest reluctance, until pressed thereto by the knight.

"The vain distinctions of the world," said Sir Christopher, "are out of place here. My soul sickens at the servile respect paid to stars and garters. The jewel of the spirit is to be prized, not by the setting, but by the degree of its own splendor it darts around."

Nor simple though the dinner was, were there wanting draughts of wine like that of which the soldier had drank upon his arrival. Of the three, he drank the most freely; Arundel moderately, and the knight almost abstemiously. As the last regarded the pale face of Philip, and marked the kindling lustre of his eyes, he pardoned the poor fellow, in consideration of what he had endured, the freedom of his libations.

At the conclusion of the meal, Arundel, turning to the knight, said:

"Philip has brought me word, Sir Christopher, which will necessitate the abridgment of a visit I did intend should be longer. My purpose is to return to Boston in the morning."

"May a friend inquire after the cause of your sudden departure?" asked the knight.

"It hath some connection," answered the young man, slightly blushing, "with a matter wherewith you are already acquainted, I know not why I should hesitate to aver before yourself and Philip that it hath reference to mistress Eveline Dunning."

"Fear not to speak the honest impulses of thine heart, Master Arundel," said the knight, "nor deem that I can take amiss thy preference of the starry eyes of pretty mistress Eveline to a hermitage in the wood."

"She desires to see me," returned the young man, "and I hold it a sacred duty to watch over her, for she is a lamb in the jaws of a lion."

"My opinion of the worshipful Master Spikeman," said the knight, "is not much more favorable than thine own, though mine eyes be not blinded by the deceitful mists of passion. Be wary, however, else mayest thou incur an enmity which it were well to avoid."

"What wouldest have me do, Sir Christopher?" demanded the young man, rising with some impatience. "Detains he not my affianced bride? Refuses he not even to allow me to see her, and must not our meetings be stolen? Does he not deny the solemn obligation he took upon himself by the death-bed of his too confiding friend, to unite Eveline with me in marriage, and is he not thereby a perjured wretch, regardless alike of his vow to God and of duty to the dead and living? I care not for his enmity, but prefer it to his friendship, nor will I tamely permit him to triumph in his villainy."

"Calm thyself, Master Arundel," said the knight; "truly I counselled no such thing. My heart is with thee, and my hand at thy service in this matter, for I esteem thee wronged, but neither violence of speech nor precipitancy in action will avail to right thee. All means of persuasion are not exhausted. Why not endeavor to interest Governor Winthrop in thy behalf?"

"To what purpose? Suppose you he would take my word in opposition to that of a fellow saint and magistrate?"

"Unjust! Master Arundel; degrade not the noble Winthrop, a pattern of many Christian virtues, and some knightly qualities, by such association. But to thy word would be superadded that of the young lady. He must believe her."

"Nay, Sir Christopher, your eagle glance at once detects falsehood wherewith it has no affinity, and you judge of others according to the standard of your own nobleness, but I am persuaded the attempt would be in vain. The case stands thus: there is really but witness against witness, for what know I of what occurred at the death-bed of Eveline's father, except what she herself has told me? Kind though may be the heart of the Governor, and sound his judgment, the false asseveration of the Assistant would outweigh the declaration of Eveline; and, did it not, and were he ever so favorably disposed, no court in this New Canaan, as they call it, would decide against one of the congregation in favor of an orphan girl not protected by their magic covenant, and whose hand is sought by an intruder into their fold."

"I deny not the force of thine argument," replied the knight, "and yet have I remarked an omnipotence in truth, that doth make me insist on having recourse to Governor Winthrop. As is the God-like sun, animating and vivifying all things, searching into dark recesses and driving out bats and impure vermin by his intolerable presence, and unveiling ugliness and hatefulness, so is Truth. Withersoever she turns her shining mirror there Error may not abide, but like a dastardly coward, flies from the glory. Believe, Master Arundel, that He who is uncreated, Truth will magnify that wherein He delights."

"To pleasure thee, Sir Christopher, there is nothing which I would not undertake, convinced though I am of its inefficacy."

"So please you then, represent your grievance in the highest quarter, before you further proceed. And now, I propose to present Philip to Lady Geraldine, if her leisure serve. You will accompany us."

Passing through a vestibule, which separated the two rooms, the knight threw open a door, and admitted them into an apartment of smaller dimensions than the first, but fitted up with far more regard to comfort, and with even some pretension to elegance. The floor was covered with matting made by the Indian women, on which strange figures were drawn, stained with brilliant dyes; the sides of the room also were hung with matting, over which fell folds of scarlet cloth reaching to within a couple of feet of the floor, imparting an air of gayety, while overhead was tightly drawn and fastened to the rafters a light blue cloth, approaching in color the hue of the sky. Some chairs were scattered around, and on a table lay a guitar, on the top of a book. No person was in the apartment at the moment of their entrance, and, upon the invitation of the knight, they took seats to await the arrival of the lady.

They had been seated but a short time when another door opened, and a comely gentlewoman entered, ushered by a little Indian girl. The age of the lady appeared to be about the same as that of the knight, and, to judge from her complexion, she was not of English extraction. Her features, though not regular, were handsome; the eyes large and black, with hair of the same color, confined by a white cap; her figure was tall and slender, and her carriage dignified and noble. Her dress consisted merely of a black gown, without ornament, and rising high into the neck, and as she approached she looked like one oppressed with sadness.

Her little swarthy attendant seemed to be a pet which she took delight in adorning, and truly, the little girl was not unconscious that her childish beauty was enhanced by richness of attire. A crimson satin tunic, like a basque, was fastened around her waist by a golden band, beneath which fell a blue silk skirt as far as the knees, while high upon the ankles were laced deer-skin buskins, profusely bedecked with shining beads and colored porcupine quills. Around her arms, above the elbows, were strings of colored beads, her wrists were clasped by bracelets of the same description, and about her neck was twined a gold chain.

As the lady thus attended advanced, all rose to pay the respect due to her sex and station.

"Behold, Lady Geraldine," said the knight, presenting to her the soldier, "the valiant man to whom I once owed my life."

"He is very welcome," replied the lady, in an accent just foreign enough to impart a strange interest to her speech. "The savior of my cousin's life is very welcome."

The embarrassed soldier, confounded at the presence of one who looked to him like a superior being, could find no words to return to her greeting, and only bowed low to conceal his confusion.

"I have heard, Sir Christopher," she continued, "speak of the daring feat of arms whereby he was rescued from the foe, and longed to behold his valorous deliverer to return my soul-felt thanks. Be seated, most welcome gentlemen. And thou, Master Arundel, I trust, hast received intelligence from Boston which will chase away the cloud that sometimes gathers on thy brow."

"Honored madam," answered the young man, in the inflated style of gallantry which the custom of high-bred society not only permitted but enjoined, "when the beautiful majesty of the heavenly sun appears, clouds have no place above the horizon, but fly away, chased by his golden shafts."

"Would that I had the power," said the lady, "as the beneficent sun dispels the clouds, so to drive away all sorrow and disappointment. There is no grief-laden heart that should not be cheered."

"Recount now, Philip, to Lady Geraldine, the adventure which causes the colony to lose a valiant soldier, and me to gain for our solitude an old friend and companion in arms," said the knight.

The soldier, upon being thus addressed, found his voice, and narrated to the lady the circumstances of his enforced departure from Boston. She listened with an appearance of interest, and upon its conclusion spoke a few words expressive of her sorrow for his imprisonment, and of congratulation for the knight, to whom she hoped he would be for the future attached.

"I do begin to consider my banishment as no misfortune," said the soldier, whose confidence in himself was now restored. "The labor of my forge and exposure of life for folk who know not how to excuse a hasty word or two, are well exchanged for the service of so noble a master and mistress."

"Be sure, thou shalt not rust like a sheathed sword," said the knight, "and it shall go hard, but I will find for thee employment to content an undegenerate spirit. But, Lady Geraldine, while we gain one to our company, we lose (only for a short time, I hope) another. Master Arundel purposes to leave our solitude to-morrow."

The lady looked inquiringly at the young man, who answered with a blush:

"A message brought by Philip doth constrain my departure."

"A sweet constraint," said the knight, smiling. "Fear not, Master Arundel, that Lady Geraldine will blame thee for obeying an impulse as natural as the love of a bee for a flower. The diamond eyes of Mistress Eveline would furnish apology for a deeper crime."

"I trust all is well with sweet Mistress Eveline," said the lady.

"All well, may it please you, madam, save for the injurious durance which, in despite of his promise, and regardless of all honor as a man, the villain Spikeman, who calls himself her guardian, imposes on her."

"He will relent," said the lady. "It may be he desires only to try the strength of thy devotion. The flame of thy love will burn the brighter for the trial."

"I have no hope of such result, Arundel. He is so wedded to evil, that to do a good action would be to him a pain."

"Nay," said the lady, "it cannot be there is a creature who loves evil for its own sake. That were quite to extinguish the heavenly spark. Judge not unhappy Master Spikeman so harshly. Commend me to the love of Mistress Eveline," she added, rising, "when you see her, and say that I wear her sweet image in my heart."

So saying, she bowed and left the apartment, preceded by the little girl, the others rising, and remaining standing as long as she was in sight.