The Prairie

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER XV

  So smile the heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! --Shakspeare.

  It is proper that the course of the narrative should be stayed, whilewe revert to those causes, which have brought in their train ofconsequences, the singular contest just related. The interruption mustnecessarily be as brief as we hope it may prove satisfactory to thatclass of readers, who require that no gap should be left by those whoassume the office of historians, for their own fertile imaginations tofill.

  Among the troops sent by the government of the United States, to takepossession of its newly acquired territory in the west, was a detachmentled by a young soldier who has become so busy an actor in the scenes ofour legend. The mild and indolent descendants of the ancient colonistsreceived their new compatriots without distrust, well knowing thatthe transfer raised them from the condition of subjects, to the moreenviable distinction of citizens in a government of laws. The new rulersexercised their functions with discretion, and wielded their delegatedauthority without offence. In such a novel intermixture, however, ofmen born and nurtured in freedom, and the compliant minions of absolutepower, the catholic and the protestant, the active and the indolent,some little time was necessary to blend the discrepant elements ofsociety. In attaining so desirable an end, woman was made to perform heraccustomed and grateful office. The barriers of prejudice and religionwere broken through by the irresistible power of the master-passion,and family unions, ere long, began to cement the political tie which hadmade a forced conjunction, between people so opposite in their habits,their educations, and their opinions.

  Middleton was among the first, of the new possessors of the soil, whobecame captive to the charms of a Louisianian lady. In the immediatevicinity of the post he had been directed to occupy, dwelt the chiefof one of those ancient colonial families, which had been content toslumber for ages amid the ease, indolence, and wealth of the Spanishprovinces. He was an officer of the crown, and had been induced toremove from the Floridas, among the French of the adjoining province, bya rich succession of which he had become the inheritor. The name ofDon Augustin de Certavallos was scarcely known beyond the limits ofthe little town in which he resided, though he found a secret pleasurehimself in pointing it out, in large scrolls of musty documents, to anonly child, as enrolled among the former heroes and grandees of Old andof New Spain. This fact, so important to himself and of so littlemoment to any body else, was the principal reason, that while his morevivacious Gallic neighbours were not slow to open a frank communionwith their visiters, he chose to keep aloof, seemingly content with thesociety of his daughter, who was a girl just emerging from the conditionof childhood into that of a woman.

  The curiosity of the youthful Inez, however, was not so inactive. Shehad not heard the martial music of the garrison, melting on the eveningair, nor seen the strange banner, which fluttered over the heights thatrose at no great distance from her father's extensive grounds, withoutexperiencing some of those secret impulses which are thought todistinguish the sex. Natural timidity, and that retiring and perhapspeculiar lassitude, which forms the very groundwork of femalefascination, in the tropical provinces of Spain, held her in theirseemingly indissoluble bonds; and it is more than probable, that had notan accident occurred, in which Middleton was of some personal serviceto her father, so long a time would have elapsed before they met, thatanother direction might have been given to the wishes of one, who wasjust of an age to be alive to all the power of youth and beauty.

  Providence--or if that imposing word is too just to be classical,fate--had otherwise decreed. The haughty and reserved Don Augustin wasby far too observant of the forms of that station, on which he so muchvalued himself, to forget the duties of a gentleman. Gratitude, for thekindness of Middleton, induced him to open his doors to the officers ofthe garrison, and to admit of a guarded but polite intercourse. Reservegradually gave way before the propriety and candour of their spiritedyoung leader, and it was not long ere the affluent planter rejoicedas much as his daughter, whenever the well known signal, at the gate,announced one of these agreeable visits from the commander of the post.

  It is unnecessary to dwell on the impression which the charms of Inezproduced on the soldier, or to delay the tale in order to write awire-drawn account of the progressive influence that elegance ofdeportment, manly beauty, and undivided assiduity and intelligence werelikely to produce on the sensitive mind of a romantic, warm-hearted, andsecluded girl of sixteen. It is sufficient for our purpose to say thatthey loved, that the youth was not backward to declare his feelings,that he prevailed with some facility over the scruples of the maiden,and with no little difficulty over the objections of her father,and that before the province of Louisiana had been six months in thepossession of the States, the officer of the latter was the affiancedhusband of the richest heiress on the banks of the Mississippi.

  Although we have presumed the reader to be acquainted with the manner inwhich such results are commonly attained, it is not to be supposed thatthe triumph of Middleton, either over the prejudices of the father orover those of the daughter, was achieved without difficulty. Religionformed a stubborn and nearly irremovable obstacle with both. The devotedman patiently submitted to a formidable essay, father Ignatius wasdeputed to make in order to convert him to the true faith. The efforton the part of the worthy priest was systematic, vigorous, and longsustained. A dozen times (it was at those moments when glimpses of thelight, sylphlike form of Inez flitted like some fairy being past thescene of their conferences) the good father fancied he was on the eve ofa glorious triumph over infidelity; but all his hopes were frustratedby some unlooked-for opposition, on the part of the subject of his piouslabours. So long as the assault on his faith was distant and feeble,Middleton, who was no great proficient in polemics, submitted to itseffects with the patience and humility of a martyr; but the moment thegood father, who felt such concern in his future happiness, was temptedto improve his vantage ground by calling in the aid of some of thepeculiar subtilties of his own creed, the young man was too good asoldier not to make head against the hot attack. He came to the contest,it is true, with no weapons more formidable than common sense, and somelittle knowledge of the habits of his country as contrasted with thatof his adversary; but with these homebred implements he never failedto repulse the father with something of the power with which a nervouscudgel player would deal with a skilful master of the rapier, setting atnought his passados by the direct and unanswerable arguments of a brokenhead and a shivered weapon.

  Before the controversy was terminated, an inroad of Protestants had cometo aid the soldier. The reckless freedom of such among them, as thoughtonly of this life, and the consistent and tempered piety of others,caused the honest priest to look about him in concern. The influence ofexample on one hand, and the contamination of too free an intercourse onthe other, began to manifest themselves, even in that portion of his ownflock, which he had supposed to be too thoroughly folded in spiritualgovernment ever to stray. It was time to turn his thoughts from theoffensive, and to prepare his followers to resist the lawless delugeof opinion, which threatened to break down the barriers of their faith.Like a wise commander, who finds he has occupied too much ground for theamount of his force, he began to curtail his outworks. The relics wereconcealed from profane eyes; his people were admonished not to speak ofmiracles before a race that not only denied their existence, but whohad even the desperate hardihood to challenge their proofs; and eventhe Bible itself was prohibited, with terrible denunciations, for thetriumphant reason that it was liable to be misinterpreted.

  In the mean time, it became necessary to report to Don Augustin,the effects his arguments and prayers had produced on the hereticaldisposition of the young soldier. No man is prone to confess hisweakness, at the very moment when circumstances demand the utmostefforts of his strength. By a species of pious fraud, for which no doubtthe worthy priest found hi
s absolution in the purity of his motives, hedeclared that, while no positive change was actually wrought in themind of Middleton, there was every reason to hope the entering wedge ofargument had been driven to its head, and that in consequence an openingwas left, through which, it might rationally be hoped, the blessed seedsof a religious fructification would find their way, especially if thesubject was left uninterruptedly to enjoy the advantage of catholiccommunion.

  Don Augustin himself was now seized with the desire of proselyting. Eventhe soft and amiable Inez thought it would be a glorious consummationof her wishes, to be a humble instrument of bringing her lover intothe bosom of the true church. The offers of Middleton were promptlyaccepted, and, while the father looked forward impatiently to the dayassigned for the nuptials, as to the pledge of his own success, thedaughter thought of it with feelings in which the holy emotions ofher faith were blended with the softer sensations of her years andsituation.

  The sun rose, the morning of her nuptials, on a day so bright andcloudless, that Inez hailed it as a harbinger of future happiness.Father Ignatius performed the offices of the church, in a little chapelattached to the estate of Don Augustin; and long ere the sun had begunto fall, Middleton pressed the blushing and timid young Creole to hisbosom, his acknowledged and unalienable wife. It had pleased the partiesto pass the day of the wedding in retirement, dedicating it solelyto the best and purest affections, aloof from the noisy and heartlessrejoicings of a compelled festivity.

  Middleton was returning through the grounds of Don Augustin, from avisit of duty to his encampment, at that hour in which the light ofthe sun begins to melt into the shadows of evening, when a glimpse ofa robe, similar to that in which Inez had accompanied him to the altar,caught his eye through the foliage of a retired arbour. He approachedthe spot, with a delicacy that was rather increased than diminished bythe claim she had perhaps given him to intrude on her private moments;but the sounds of her soft voice, which was offering up prayers,in which he heard himself named by the dearest of all appellations,overcame his scruples, and induced him to take a position where he mightlisten without the fear of detection. It was certainly grateful to thefeelings of a husband to be able in this manner to lay bare the spotlesssoul of his wife, and to find that his own image lay enshrined amid itspurest and holiest aspirations. His self-esteem was too much flatterednot to induce him to overlook the immediate object of the petitioner.While she prayed that she might become the humble instrument of bringinghim into the flock of the faithful, she petitioned for forgiveness, onher own behalf, if presumption or indifference to the counsel of thechurch had caused her to set too high a value on her influence, and ledher into the dangerous error of hazarding her own soul by espousing aheretic. There was so much of fervent piety, mingled with so strong aburst of natural feeling, so much of the woman blended with the angel,in her prayers, that Middleton could have forgiven her, had she termedhim a Pagan, for the sweetness and interest with which she petitioned inhis favour.

  The young man waited until his bride arose from her knees, and then hejoined her, as if entirely ignorant of what had occurred.

  "It is getting late, my Inez," he said, "and Don Augustin would be aptto reproach you with inattention to your health, in being abroad at suchan hour. What then am I to do, who am charged with all his authority,and twice his love?"

  "Be like him in every thing," she answered, looking up in his face, withtears in her eyes, and speaking with emphasis; "in every thing. Imitatemy father, Middleton, and I can ask no more of you."

  "Nor for me, Inez? I doubt not that I should be all you can wish, wereI to become as good as the worthy and respectable Don Augustin. But youare to make some allowances for the infirmities and habits of a soldier.Now let us go and join this excellent father."

  "Not yet," said his bride, gently extricating herself from the arm, thathe had thrown around her slight form, while he urged her from the place."I have still another duty to perform, before I can submit so implicitlyto your orders, soldier though you are. I promised the worthy Inesella,my faithful nurse, she who, as you heard, has so long been a mother tome, Middleton--I promised her a visit at this hour. It is the last,as she thinks, that she can receive from her own child, and I cannotdisappoint her. Go you then to Don Augustin; in one short hour I willrejoin you."

  "Remember it is but an hour!"

  "One hour," repeated Inez, as she kissed her hand to him; and thenblushing, ashamed at her own boldness, she darted from the arbour, andwas seen for an instant gliding towards the cottage of her nurse, inwhich, at the next moment, she disappeared.

  Middleton returned slowly and thoughtfully to the house, often bendinghis eyes in the direction in which he had last seen his wife, as if hewould fain trace her lovely form, in the gloom of the evening, stillfloating through the vacant space. Don Augustin received him withwarmth, and for many minutes his mind was amused by relating to his newkinsman plans for the future. The exclusive old Spaniard listened tohis glowing but true account of the prosperity and happiness of thoseStates, of which he had been an ignorant neighbour half his life, partlyin wonder, and partly with that sort of incredulity with which oneattends to what he fancies are the exaggerated descriptions of a toopartial friendship.

  In this manner the hour for which Inez had conditioned passed away, muchsooner than her husband could have thought possible, in her absence. Atlength his looks began to wander to the clock, and then the minutes werecounted, as one rolled by after another and Inez did not appear. Thehand had already made half of another circuit, around the face of thedial, when Middleton arose and announced his determination to go andoffer himself, as an escort to the absentee. He found the night dark,and the heavens charged with threatening vapour, which in that climatewas the infallible forerunner of a gust. Stimulated no less by theunpropitious aspect of the skies, than by his secret uneasiness, hequickened his pace, making long and rapid strides in the directionof the cottage of Inesella. Twenty times he stopped, fancying that hecaught glimpses of the fairy form of Inez, tripping across the grounds,on her return to the mansion-house, and as often he was obliged toresume his course, in disappointment. He reached the gate of thecottage, knocked, opened the door, entered, and even stood in thepresence of the aged nurse, without meeting the person of her he sought.She had already left the place, on her return to her father's house!Believing that he must have passed her in the darkness, Middletonretraced his steps to meet with another disappointment. Inez hadnot been seen. Without communicating his intention to any one, thebridegroom proceeded with a palpitating heart to the little sequesteredarbour, where he had overheard his bride offering up those petitions forhis happiness and conversion. Here, too, he was disappointed; and thenall was afloat, in the painful incertitude of doubt and conjecture.

  For many hours, a secret distrust of the motives of his wife causedMiddleton to proceed in the search with delicacy and caution. But as daydawned, without restoring her to the arms of her father or her husband,reserve was thrown aside, and her unaccountable absence was loudlyproclaimed. The enquiries after the lost Inez were now direct and open;but they proved equally fruitless. No one had seen her, or heard of her,from the moment that she left the cottage of her nurse.

  Day succeeded day, and still no tidings rewarded the search that wasimmediately instituted, until she was finally given over, by most of herrelations and friends, as irretrievably lost.

  An event of so extraordinary a character was not likely to be soonforgotten. It excited speculation, gave rise to an infinity of rumours,and not a few inventions. The prevalent opinion, among such of thoseemigrants who were over-running the country, as had time, in themultitude of their employments, to think of any foreign concerns, wasthe simple and direct conclusion that the absent bride was no more norless than a felo de se. Father Ignatius had many doubts, and much secretcompunction of conscience; but, like a wise chief, he endeavoured toturn the sad event to some account, in the impending warfare of faith.Changing his battery, he whispered in the ears of a few of
his oldestparishioners, that he had been deceived in the state of Middleton'smind, which he was now compelled to believe was completely stranded onthe quicksands of heresy. He began to show his relics again, and waseven heard to allude once more to the delicate and nearly forgottensubject of modern miracles. In consequence of these demonstrations,on the part of the venerable priest, it came to be whispered among thefaithful, and finally it was adopted, as part of the parish creed, thatInez had been translated to heaven.

  Don Augustin had all the feelings of a father, but they were smotheredin the lassitude of a Creole. Like his spiritual governor, he began tothink that they had been wrong in consigning one so pure, so young, solovely, and above all so pious, to the arms of a heretic: and he wasfain to believe that the calamity, which had befallen his age, was ajudgment on his presumption and want of adherence to established forms.It is true that, as the whispers of the congregation came to his ears,he found present consolation in their belief; but then nature was toopowerful, and had too strong a hold of the old man's heart, not to giverise to the rebellious thought, that the succession of his daughter tothe heavenly inheritance was a little premature.

  But Middleton, the lover, the husband, the bridegroom--Middleton wasnearly crushed by the weight of the unexpected and terrible blow.Educated himself under the dominion of a simple and rational faith, inwhich nothing is attempted to be concealed from the believers, he couldhave no other apprehensions for the fate of Inez than such as grew outof his knowledge of the superstitious opinions she entertained of hisown church. It is needless to dwell on the mental tortures that heendured, or all the various surmises, hopes, and disappointments, thathe was fated to experience in the first few weeks of his misery. Ajealous distrust of the motives of Inez, and a secret, lingering, hopethat he should yet find her, had tempered his enquiries, without howevercausing him to abandon them entirely. But time was beginning to deprivehim, even of the mortifying reflection that he was intentionally, thoughperhaps temporarily, deserted, and he was gradually yielding to themore painful conviction that she was dead, when his hopes were suddenlyrevived, in a new and singular manner.

  The young commander was slowly and sorrowfully returning from an eveningparade of his troops, to his own quarters, which stood at some littledistance from the place of the encampment, and on the same high bluffof land, when his vacant eyes fell on the figure of a man, who bythe regulations of the place, was not entitled to be there, at thatforbidden hour. The stranger was meanly dressed, with every appearanceabout his person and countenance, of squalid poverty and of the mostdissolute habits. Sorrow had softened the military pride of Middleton,and, as he passed the crouching form of the intruder, he said, in tonesof great mildness, or rather of kindness--

  "You will be given a night in the guard-house, friend, should the patrolfind you here;--there is a dollar,--go, and get a better place to sleepin, and something to eat!"

  "I swallow all my food, captain, without chewing," returned thevagabond, with the low exultation of an accomplished villain, as heeagerly seized the silver. "Make this Mexican twenty, and I will sellyou a secret."

  "Go, go," said the other with a little of a soldier's severity,returning to his manner. "Go, before I order the guard to seize you."

  "Well, go I will;--but if I do go, captain, I shall take my knowledgewith me; and then you may live a widower bewitched till the tattoo oflife is beat off."

  "What mean you, fellow?" exclaimed Middleton, turning quickly towardsthe wretch, who was already dragging his diseased limbs from the place.

  "I mean to have the value of this dollar in Spanish brandy, and thencome back and sell you my secret for enough to buy a barrel."

  "If you have any thing to say, speak now," continued Middleton,restraining with difficulty the impatience that urged him to betray hisfeelings.

  "I am a-dry, and I can never talk with elegance when my throat is husky,captain. How much will you give to know what I can tell you; let it besomething handsome; such as one gentleman can offer to another."

  "I believe it would be better justice to order the drummer to pay you avisit, fellow. To what does your boasted secret relate?"

  "Matrimony; a wife and no wife; a pretty face and a rich bride: do Ispeak plain, now, captain?"

  "If you know any thing relating to my wife, say it at once; you need notfear for your reward."

  "Ay, captain, I have drove many a bargain in my time, and sometimes Ihave been paid in money, and sometimes I have been paid in promises; nowthe last are what I call pinching food."

  "Name your price."

  "Twenty--no, damn it, it's worth thirty dollars, if it's worth a cent!"

  "Here, then, is your money: but remember, if you tell me nothing worthknowing, I have a force that can easily deprive you of it again, andpunish your insolence in the bargain."

  The fellow examined the bank-bills he received, with a jealous eye, andthen pocketed them, apparently well satisfied of their being genuine.

  "I like a northern note," he said very coolly; "they have a characterto lose like myself. No fear of me, captain; I am a man of honour, andI shall not tell you a word more, nor a word less than I know of my ownknowledge to be true."

  "Proceed then without further delay, or I may repent, and order you tobe deprived of all your gains; the silver as well as the notes."

  "Honour, if you die for it!" returned the miscreant, holding up a handin affected horror at so treacherous a threat. "Well, captain, you mustknow that gentlemen don't all live by the same calling; some keep whatthey've got, and some get what they can."

  "You have been a thief."

  "I scorn the word. I have been a humanity hunter. Do you know whatthat means? Ay, it has many interpretations. Some people think thewoolly-heads are miserable, working on hot plantations under a broilingsun--and all such sorts of inconveniences. Well, captain, I have been,in my time, a man who has been willing to give them the pleasures ofvariety, at least, by changing the scene for them. You understand me?"

  "You are, in plain language, a kidnapper."

  "Have been, my worthy captain--have been; but just now a little reduced,like a merchant who leaves off selling tobacco by the hogshead, to dealin it by the yard. I have been a soldier, too, in my day. What is saidto be the great secret of our trade, can you tell me that?"

  "I know not," said Middleton, beginning to tire of the fellow'strifling: "courage?"

  "No, legs--legs to fight with, and legs to run away with--and thereinyou see my two callings agreed. My legs are none of the best just now,and without legs a kidnapper would carry on a losing trade; but thenthere are men enough left, better provided than I am."

  "Stolen!" groaned the horror-struck husband.

  "On her travels, as sure as you are standing still!"

  "Villain, what reason have you for believing a thing so shocking?"

  "Hands off--hands off--do you think my tongue can do its work thebetter, for a little squeezing of the throat! Have patience, and youshall know it all; but if you treat me so ungenteelly again, I shall beobliged to call in the assistance of the lawyers."

  "Say on; but if you utter a single word more or less than the truth,expect instant vengeance!"

  "Are you fool enough to believe what such a scoundrel as I am tellsyou, captain, unless it has probability to back it? I know you are not:therefore I will give my facts and my opinions, and then leave you tochew on them, while I go and drink of your generosity. I know a man whois called Abiram White.--I believe the knave took that name to show hisenmity to the race of blacks! But this gentleman is now, and has beenfor years, to my certain knowledge, a regular translator of the humanbody from one State to another. I have dealt with him in my time, and acheating dog he is! No more honour in him than meat in my stomach. I sawhim here in this very town, the day of your wedding. He was in companywith his wife's brother, and pretended to be a settler on the hunt fornew land. A noble set they were, to carry on business--seven sons, eachof them as tall as your sergeant with his cap on. Well, th
e moment Iheard that your wife was lost, I saw at once that Abiram had laid hishands on her."

  "Do you know this--can this be true? What reason have you to fancy athing so wild?"

  "Reason enough; I know Abiram White. Now, will you add a trifle just tokeep my throat from parching?"

  "Go, go; you are stupified with drink already, miserable man, and knownot what you say. Go; go, and beware the drummer."

  "Experience is a good guide"--the fellow called after the retiringMiddleton; and then turning with a chuckling laugh, like one wellsatisfied with himself, he made the best of his way towards the shop ofthe suttler.

  A hundred times in the course of that night did Middleton fancy that thecommunication of the miscreant was entitled to some attention, andas often did he reject the idea as too wild and visionary for anotherthought. He was awakened early on the following morning, after passing arestless and nearly sleepless night, by his orderly, who came to reportthat a man was found dead on the parade, at no great distance from hisquarters. Throwing on his clothes he proceeded to the spot, and beheldthe individual, with whom he had held the preceding conference, in theprecise situation in which he had first been found.

  The miserable wretch had fallen a victim to his intemperance. Thisrevolting fact was sufficiently proclaimed by his obtruding eye-balls,his bloated countenance, and the nearly insufferable odours thatwere even then exhaling from his carcass. Disgusted with the odiousspectacle, the youth was turning from the sight, after ordering thecorpse to be removed, when the position of one of the dead man's handsstruck him. On examination, he found the fore-finger extended, as if inthe act of writing in the sand, with the following incomplete sentence,nearly illegible, but yet in a state to be deciphered: "Captain, it istrue, as I am a gentle--" He had either died, or fallen into a sleep,the forerunner of his death, before the latter word was finished.

  Concealing this fact from the others, Middleton repeated his orders anddeparted. The pertinacity of the deceased, and all the circumstancesunited, induced him to set on foot some secret enquiries. He found thata family answering the description which had been given him, had in factpassed the place the day of his nuptials. They were traced along themargin of the Mississippi, for some distance, until they took boat andascended the river to its confluence with the Missouri. Here they haddisappeared like hundreds of others, in pursuit of the hidden wealth ofthe interior.

  Furnished with these facts, Middleton detailed a small guard of his mosttrusty men, took leave of Don Augustin, without declaring his hopes orhis fears, and having arrived at the indicated point, he pushed into thewilderness in pursuit. It was not difficult to trace a train like thatof Ishmael, until he was well assured its object lay far beyond theusual limits of the settlements. This circumstance, in itself, quickenedhis suspicions, and gave additional force to his hopes of final success.

  After getting beyond the assistance of verbal directions, the anxioushusband had recourse to the usual signs of a trail, in order to followthe fugitives. This he also found a task of no difficulty, until hereached the hard and unyielding soil of the rolling prairies. Here,indeed, he was completely at fault. He found himself, at length,compelled to divide his followers, appointing a place of rendezvous at adistant day, and to endeavour to find the lost trail by multiplying, asmuch as possible, the number of his eyes. He had been alone a week, whenaccident brought him in contact with the trapper and the bee-hunter.Part of their interview has been related, and the reader can readilyimagine the explanations that succeeded the tale he recounted, and whichled, as has already been seen, to the recovery of his bride.