“Words spoke at parting, and which may be the last we ever hear from a fri‘nd, are not soon forgotten,” he repeated, “and so, Judith, I intend to speak to you like a brother, seein’ I’m not old enough to be your father. In the first place, I wish to caution you ag’in your inimies, of which two may be said to ha‘nt your very footsteps, and to beset your ways. The first is oncommon good looks, which is as dangerous a foe to some young women as a whole tribe of Mingos could prove, and which calls for great watchfulness; not to admire and praise; but to distrust and sarcumvent. Yes, good looks may be sarcumvented, and fairly outwitted, too. In order to do this, you’ve only to remember that they melt like the snows; and, when once gone, they never come back ag’in. The seasons come and go, Judith; and if we have winter, with storms and frosts, and spring, with chills and leafless trees, we have summer, with its sun and glorious skies, and fall, with its fruits, and a garment thrown over the forest that no beauty of the town could rummage out of all the shops in America. ‘Arth is an eternal round, the goodness of God bringing back the pleasant when we’ve had enough of the onpleasant. But it’s not so with good looks. They are lent for a short time in youth, to be used and not abused; and as I never met with a young woman to whom Providence has been as bountiful as it has to you, Judith, in this par-tic’ lar, I warn you, as it might be with my dyin’ breath, to beware of the inimy; fri’nd or inimy, as we deal with the gift.”
It was so grateful to Judith to hear these unequivocal admissions of her personal charms, that much would have been forgiven to the man who made them, let him be who he might. But, at that moment, and from a far better feeling, it would not have been easy for Deerslayer seriously to offend her; and she listened with a patience which, had it been foretold only a week earlier, would have excited her indignation to hear.
“I understand your meaning, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, with a meekness and humility that a little surprised her listener, “and hope to be able to profit by it. But you have mentioned only one of the enemies I have to fear; who, or what, is the other?”
“The other is givin’ way afore your own good sense and judgment, I find, Judith; yes, he’s not as dangerous as I supposed. Howsever, havin’ opened the subject, it will be as well to end it honestly. The first inimy you have to be watchful of, as I’ve already told you, Judith, is oncommon good looks, and the next is an oncommon knowledge of the sarcumstance. If the first is bad, the last doesn’t in any way mend the matter, so far as safety and peace of mind are consarned.”
How much longer the young man would have gone on in his simple and unsuspecting, but well-intentioned manner, it might not be easy to say, had he not been interrupted by his listener’s bursting into tears, and giving way to an outbreak of feeling, which was so much the more violent from the fact that it had been with so much difficulty suppressed. At first her sobs were so violent and uncontrollable that Deerslayer was a little appalled, and he was abundantly repentant from the instant that he discovered how much greater was the effect produced by his words than he had anticipated. Even the austere and exacting are usually appeased by the signs of contrition, but the nature of Deerslayer did not require proofs of intense feeling so strong, in order to bring him down to a level with the regrets felt by the girl herself. He arose as if an adder had stung him, and the accents of the mother that soothes her child were scarcely more gentle and winning than the tones of his voice, as he now expressed his contrition at having gone so far.
“It was well meant, Judith,” he said, “but it was not intended to hurt your feelin’s so much. I have overdone the advice, I see; yes, I’ve overdone it, and I crave your pardon for the same. Fri‘ndship’s an awful thing! Sometimes it chides us for not having done enough; and then ag’in it speaks in strong words for havin’ done too much. Howsever, I acknowledge I’ve overdone the matter, and as I’ve a ra‘al and strong regard for you, I rej’ice to say it, inasmuch as it proves how much better you are than my own vanity and consaits had made you out to be.”
Judith now moved her hands from her face, her tears had ceased, and she unveiled a countenance so winning, with the smile which rendered it even radiant, that the young man gazed at her for a moment with speechless delight.
“Say no more, Deerslayer,” she hastily interposed, “it pains me to hear you find fault with yourself. I know my own weakness all the better, now I see that you have discovered it; the lesson, bitter as I have found it for a moment, shall not be forgotten. We will not talk any longer of these things, I do not feel myself brave enough for the undertaking, and I should not like the Delawares, or Hist, or even Hetty, to notice my weakness. Farewell, Deerslayer; may God bless and protect you as your honest heart deserves blessing and protection, and as I must think he will.”
Judith had so far regained the superiority that properly belonged to her better education, high spirit, and surpassing personal advantages, as to preserve the ascendency she had thus accidentally obtained, and effectually prevented any return to the subject that was as singularly interrupted as it had been singularly introduced. The young man permitted her to have everything her own way, and when she pressed his hard hand in both her own, he made no resistance, but submitted to the homage as quietly, and with quite as matter of course a manner, as a sovereign would have received a similar tribute from a subject, or the mistress from her suitor. Feeling had flushed the face and illuminated the whole countenance of the girl, and her beauty was never more resplendent than when she cast a parting glance at the youth. That glance was filled with anxiety, interest, and gentle pity. At the next instant she darted into the hut and was seen no more; though she spoke to Hist from a window, to inform her that their friend expected her appearance.
“You know enough of redskin natur’ and redskin usages, Wah-ta-Wah, to see the condition I am in on account of this furlough,” commenced the hunter, in Delaware, as soon as the patient and submissive girl of that people had moved quietly to his side; “you will therefore best understand how unlikely I am ever to talk with you ag‘in. I’ve but little to say; but that little comes from long livin’ among your people, and from havin’ obsarved and noted their usages. The life of a woman is hard at the best, but, I must own, though I’m not opinionated in favor of my own color, that it is harder among the redmen than it is among the palefaces. This is a point on which Christians may well boast, if boasting can be set down for Christianity in any manner or form, which I rather think it cannot. Howsever, all women have their trials. Red women have their’n in what I should call the nat’ral way, while white women take ‘em inoculated like. Bear your burden, Hist, becomingly, and remember, if it be a little toilsome, how much lighter it is than that of most Indian women. I know the Sarpent well—what I call cordially—and he will never be a tyrant to anything he loves, though he will expect to be treated himself like a Mohican chief. There will be cloudy days in your lodge, I suppose, for they happen under all usages, and among all people; but, by keepin’ the windows of the heart open, there will always be room for the sunshine to enter. You come of a great stock yourself, and so does Chingachgook. It’s not very likely that either will ever forget the sarcumstance, and do anything to disgrace your forefathers. Nevertheless, likin’ is a tender plant, and never thrives long when watered with tears. Let the ’arth around your married happiness be moistened by the dews of kindness.”
“My pale brother is very wise; Wah will keep in her mind all that his wisdom tells her.”
“That’s judicious and womanly, Hist. Care in listening, and stoutheartedness in holding to good counsel, is a wife’s great protection. And, now, ask the Sarpent to come and speak with me, for a moment, and carry away with you all my best wishes and prayers. I shall think of you, Hist, and of your intended husband, let what may come to pass, and always wish you well, here and hereafter, whether the last is to be according to Indian idees or Christian doctrines.”
Hist shed no tears at parting. She was sustained by the high resolution of one who had decided on her cour
se; but her dark eyes were luminous with the feelings that glowed within, and her pretty countenance beamed with an expression of determination that was in marked and singular contrast to its ordinary gentleness. It was but a minute ere the Delaware advanced to the side of his friend with the light, noiseless tread of an Indian.
“Come thisaway, Sarpent, here more out of sight of the women,” commenced the Deerslayer, “for I’ve several things to say that mustn’t so much as be suspected, much less overheard. You know too well the natur’ of furloughs and Mingos to have any doubts or misgivin’s consarnin’ what is likely to happen, when I get back to the camp. On them two p‘ints, therefore, a few words will go a great way. In the first place, chief, I wish to say a little about Hist, and the manner in which you redmen treat your wives. I suppose it’s accordin’ to the gifts of your people that the women should work, and the men hunt; but there’s such a thing as moderation in all matters. As for huntin’, I see no good reason why any limits need be set to that, but Hist comes of too good a stock to toil like a common drudge. One of your means and standin’ need never want for corn, or potatoes, or anything that the fields yield; therefore, I hope the hoe will never be put into the hands of any wife of your’n. You know I am not quite a beggar, and all I own, whether in ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to Hist, should I not come back to claim them by the end of the season. This will set the maiden up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time to come. I suppose I needn’t tell you to love the young woman, for that you do already, and whomsever the man ra‘ally loves, he’ll be likely enough to cherish. Nevertheless, it can do no harm to say that kind words never rankle, while bitter words do. I know you’re a man, Sarpent, that is less apt to talk in his own lodge than to speak at the council fire; but forgetful moments may overtake us all, and the practyce of kind doin’, and kind talkin’, is a wonderful advantage in keepin’ peace in a cabin, as well as on a hunt.”
“My ears are open,” returned the Delaware, gravely; “the words of my brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again. They are like rings that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him speak on; the song of the wren and the voice of a friend never tire.”
“I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for the sake of old companionship, should I now talk about myself. If the worst comes to the worst, it’s not likely there’ll be much left of me but ashes; so a grave would be useless, and a sort of vanity. On that score I’m no way partic‘lar, though it might be well enough to take a look at the remains of the pile, and should any bones or pieces be found, ’twould be more decent to gather them together and bury them than to let them lie for the wolves to gnaw at and howl over. These matters can make no great difference in the ind, but men of white blood and Christian feelin’s have rather a gift for graves.”
“It shall be done as my brother says,” returned the Indian, gravely. “If his mind is full let him empty it in the bosom of a friend.”
“Thank you, Sarpent; my mind’s easy enough; yes, it’s tolerable easy. Idees will come uppermost that I’m not apt to think about in common, it’s true; but by striving ag‘in some, and lettin’ others come out, all will be right in the long run. There’s one thing, howsever, chief, that does seem to be onreasonable, and ag’in natur‘, though the missionaries say it’s true; and bein’ of my religion and color, I feel bound to believe them. They say an Injin may torment and tortur’ the body to the heart’s content, and scalp, and cut, and tear, and burn, and consume all his inventions and diviltries, until nothin’ is left but ashes, and they shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven, yet, when the trumpet of God shall sound, all will come together ag’in, and the man will stand forth in his flesh the same creatur’ as to looks, if not to feelin’s, that he was afore he was harmed!”
“The missionaries are good men; they mean well,” returned the Delaware, courteously; “they are not great medicines. They think all they say, Deerslayer; that is no reason why warriors and orators should be all ears. When Chingachgook shall see the father of Tamenund standing in his scalp, and paint, and warlock, then will he believe the missionaries.”
“Seein’ is believin‘, of a sartainty—ah’s me! and some of us may see these things sooner than we thought. I comprehend your meanin’ about Tamenund’s father, Sarpent, and the idee’s a close idee. Tamenund is now an elderly man, say eighty, every day of it; and his father was scalped, and tormented, and burnt when the present prophet was a youngster. Yes, if one could see that come to pass, there wouldn’t be much difficulty in yieldin’ faith to all that the missionaries say. Howsever, I’m not ag’in the opinion now; for you must know, Sarpent, that the great principle of Christianity is to believe without seeing; and a man should always act up to his religion and principles, let them be what they may.”
“That is strange for a wise nation,” said the Delaware, with emphasis. “The redman looks hard, that he may see and understand.”
“Yes, that’s plauserable and is agreeable to mortal pride; but it’s not as deep as it seems. If we could understand all we see, Sarpent, there might be not only sense, but safety, in refusin’ to give faith to any one thing that we might find oncomprehensible; but when there’s so many things about which it may be said we know nothing at all, why, there’s little use and no reason in bein’ difficult touchin’ any one in partic‘lar. For my part, Delaware, all my thoughts haven’t been on the game, when outlyin’ in the hunts and scoutin’s of our youth. Many’s the hour I’ve passed, pleasantly enough too, in what is tarmed conterplation by my people. On such occasions the mind is actyve, though the body seems lazy and listless. An open spot on a mountain side, where a wide look can be had at the heavens and the ’arth, is a most judicious place for a man to get a just idee of the power of the Manitou, and of his own littleness. At such times there isn’t any great disposition to find fault with little difficulties in the way of comprehension, as there are so many big ones to hide them. Believin’ comes easy enough to me, at such times; and if the Lord made man first, out of ‘arth, as they tell me it is written in the Bible, then turns him into dust at death, I see no great difficulty in the way to bringin’ him back in the body, though ashes be the only substance left. These things lie beyond our understandin’, though they may and do lie so close to our feelin’s. But of all the doctrines, Sarpent, that which disturbs me, and disconsarts my mind the most, is the one which teaches us to think that a paleface goes to one heaven and a redskin to another; it may separate in death them which lived much together, and loved each other well in life!”
“Do the missionaries teach their white brethren to think it is so!” demanded the Indian, with serious earnestness. “The Delawares believe that good men and brave warriors will hunt together in the same pleasant woods, let them belong to whatever tribe they may; that all the unjust Indians, and cowards, will have to sneak in with the dogs and the wolves, to get venison for their lodges.”
“ ’Tis wonderful how many consaits mankind have consarnin’ happiness and misery, hereafter!” exclaimed the hunter, borne away by the power of his own thoughts. “Some believe in burnin’s and flames, and some think punishment is to eat with the wolves and dogs. Then, ag’in, some fancy heaven to be only the carryin’ out of their own ‘arthly longin’s; while others fancy it all gold and shinin’ lights! Well, I’ve an idee of my own, in that matter, which is just this, Sarpent. Whenever I’ve done wrong, I’ve gin’rally found ‘twas owin’ to some blindness of the mind, which hid the right from view, and when sight has returned, then has come sorrow and repentance. Now, I consait that, after death, when the body is laid aside, or, if used at all, is purified and without its longin’s, the spirit sees all things in their ra’al light, and never becomes blind to truth and justice. Such bein’ the case, all that has been done in life, is beheld as plainly as the sun is seen at noon; the good brings joy, while the evil brings sorrow. There’s nothin’ onreasonable in that, but it’s agreeable to every man’s experience.”
“I thought the palefaces believed all men were wicked; who then could ever find the white man’s heaven?”
“That’s ingen‘ous, but it falls short of the missionary teachin’s. You’ll be Christianized one day,1 I make no doubt, and then ’twill all come plain enough. You must know, Sarpent, that there’s been a great deed of salvation done, that, by God’s help, enables all men to find a pardon for their wickedness, and that is the essence of the white man’s religion. I can’t stop to talk this matter over with you any longer, for Hetty’s in the canoe, and the furlough takes me away; but the time will come, I hope, when you’ll feel these things; for, after all, they must be felt, rather than reasoned about. Ah’s me! well, Delaware, there’s my hand, you know it’s that of a fri’nd, and will shake it as such, though it never has done you one half the good its owner wishes it had.”
The Indian took the offered hand, and returned its pressure warmly. Then falling back on his acquired stoicism of manner, which so many mistake for constitutional indifference, he drew up in reserve, and prepared to part from his friend with dignity. Deerslayer, however, was more natural; nor would he have at all cared about giving way to his feelings, had not the recent conduct and language of Judith given him some secret, though ill-defined apprehensions of a scene. He was too humble to imagine the truth concerning the actual feelings of that beautiful girl, while he was too observant not to have noted the struggle she had maintained with herself, and which had so often led her to the very verge of discovery. That something extraordinary was concealed in her breast, he thought obvious enough; and, through a sentiment of manly delicacy that would have done credit to the highest human refinement, he shrank from any exposure of her secret that might subsequently cause regret to the girl herself. He therefore determined to depart now, and that without any further manifestations of feeling, either from himself or from others.
Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 56