The Lost Hunter

by John Turvill Adams

  CHAPTER XIX.

  I could endure Chains nowhere patiently: and chains at home Where I am free by birthright, not at all.

  COWPER.

  Bright and beautiful broke the morning after that night of storm. Theweather had cleared up towards midnight, and when the rejoicing sunsurveyed the scene, his golden glances fell on a wide expanse of pure,unsullied white. A slight breeze had arisen, which, gently agitatingthe bent and laden boughs of the evergreens, shook off the fleecyadornment that fell like blossoms from the trees. The air was softand almost balmy, as is not unfrequently the case even in "the deadof winter" in our variable climate, lovelier and dearer for its veryvariableness, like a capricious beauty, whose smile is the more prizedfor the pout that precedes it. It was a day to seduce the old man intothe sunshine in the stoop on the south side of the house, and to bringout the girls and young men, and swift trotting horses and pungs andjingling bells in gay confusion in the streets.

  In the course of the forenoon, a bright crimson sleigh, the bottomfilled with clean straw, and the seats covered with bear and buffalorobes, the horse ornamented around the neck and back with strings ofbells that jangled sweet music every step he took, drove up to thedoor of Judge Bernard. A young man stepped out, whom we recognize asPownal. He entered the house, and in a few minutes returned with AnneBernard, muffled in cloak and boa, and carrying a muff upon her arm.Health glowed in her cheek and happiness lighted up her eyes. Pownalassisted her into the sleigh, and carefully disposing the robes abouther, took his seat by her side and drove off.

  They drove at first into the older part of the town, as yetundescribed by us, nor do we now intend a description, save that theroad was wide, and a considerable part of the way bordered by elms andmaples, glorious with beauty in summer, but now standing like mournersshivering in the wintry air, and as they passed hailed with speciallooks and expressions of admiration those two fraternal elms, toweringover all, like patriarchs of the vegetable world, which, once seen,none will forget.

  "Huge trunks, and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres, serpentine, Upcoiling, and inveterately convolved-- Nor uninformed with Phantasy and looks That threaten the profane."

  Thence, following the street that winds around the village green, andgreeted by the joyous shouts of acquaintances in passing sleighs,and joining, now and then, in friendly races, they crossed the upperbridge of the Yaupaae, and leaving the shouts and merriment behind,struck into a more secluded road.

  Whatever charms the conversation that passed between the youngpeople might have for them, it would not interest the reader, and wetherefore pass it over. It was such as might be expected between twoyouthful beings, one of whom knew he was in love, and the other beganto suspect, from emotions never felt before, the commencement of apartiality that was as sweet as it was strange. To two hearts thusattached, and tuned to vibrate in harmony, all nature ministers with amore gracious service. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer, the flowermore fragrant, the chime of the brook has a deeper meaning, and aricher music swells the throat of the bird. Things unobserved before,and as unconnected with the new emotion, indifferent, now assumeimportance. A look, a tone of the voice, a pressure of the hand, areevents to dream about and feast upon. In the presence of the belovedobject all things else are either unheeded or dwindle into comparativeinsignificance.

  It will occasion no surprise, then, that Anne, engrossed with her ownhappiness, should hardly have observed the road taken by Pownal, orbeen conscious of how far they had driven, until some remark of hisattracted her attention to the scenery. She then perceived that theywere in the midst of the Indian settlement on the Severn, and to aplayful question of Pownal, inquiring how she would like to leave hercard with Queen Esther, she replied by expressing her delight at theproposition. Esther's cabin stood some little distance off from themain road, towards which a long and narrow winding track led, seldomtravelled by any other vehicles than ox carts and sleds. Over the yetunbroken snow, Pownal directed the horse, the light pung plungingwith every motion of the animal, and threatening to upset, causingmerriment, however, rather than alarm to the occupants of theconveyance. In this manner, straining through the snow-drifts, theyfinally reached the dwelling of Esther. She herself, attracted by thesound of the bells, came to the door, and welcomed them with greatcordiality.

  "Mr. Pownal and I," cried the lively Anne, "are come to make aNew-Year's call, Esther. I have not your presents with me, but thenext time you are at our house, you shall have them."

  "Miss Anne more'n all present," replied the pleased Esther. "She cold;she must come to the fire."

  "No," said Anne, as she was being ushered by the squaw into the cabin,"I am not cold. Why, what a nice"--but the sentence was not concluded.Her eyes had fallen on the stately form of Holden, who sat on a benchnear to the fire.

  "O, father Holden!" exclaimed the lovely girl, running up to him,throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing his forehead, "is ityou? How glad I am you escaped from those abominable men. Tell me allabout it. How was it? Did they do you any harm?"

  At this moment, Pownal entered, and advancing, grasped the old man'shand, and congratulated him on his escape.

  "My God," said Holden, in his wild way, "hath sent His angel and shutthe lions' mouths that they have not hurt me. He raiseth the poor outof the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the mire."

  "But," urged Anne, with feminine curiosity, "we are anxious to hearhow you escaped."

  The Recluse did not seem to consider it necessary to make anysecret--at least to those present--of the events of the past night,and, with the frankness that characterized him, spoke of them withouthesitation.

  After stating what we already know, he said he was led away rapidly bya man dressed in a sailor's suit, whose face he did not see, and whoaccompanied him until they had passed the last house on the street.They met no one, and, on parting, the man forced a purse into hishand, and entreated him to make his way to the cabin of Esther, wherehe would be safe and welcome, and there to remain until his friendsshould be apprised of his retreat.

  "To me," concluded the Solitary, "a dungeon or a palace ought to bealike indifferent; but I will not thwart the minds of those who loveme, however vain their desires. The Lord hath brought this lightaffliction upon me for His own good purpose, and I await therevelation of His will."

  "I do not doubt we shall be able soon to release you from yourconfinement," said Pownal; "meanwhile, tell us what we can do to makeyour condition tolerable."

  "I lack nothing," said Holden. "These hands have ever supplied mynecessities, and I am a stranger to luxury. Nor liveth man by breadalone, but on sweet tones, and kind looks, and gracious deeds, and Iam encompassed by them. I am rich above gold, and silver, and preciousstones."

  "If there is anything you desire, you will let me know? Command mein all things; there is nothing I am not ready to do for you," saidPownal.

  "The blessing of one who is ready to depart be upon thee, for thy kindwords and loving intentions; and should real trouble arise, I willcall upon thee for aid. I know not now," he continued, "why I shouldhide like a wounded beast. I fear 'tis but for a visionary pointof honor. Why should not a gentleman,"--this he saidsarcastically--"occupy the workhouse as well as a boor. In the eyes ofOne, we are all equal. Ah, it might do this hard heart good."

  "You have promised to respect the prejudices of your friends," saidPownal, "whatever you may think of their weakness."

  "You shall never endure the disgrace," said Anne, with kindlingcheeks. "See how Providence itself interposes to protect you!"

  "Your suggestions, my children, find an echo, alas! too truly in myown heart to be rejected," said Holden, dejectedly. "I repeat, I willobey you."

  The young people remained for an hour or more at the hut, conversingwith the Solitary, to whom their presence appeared to give greatpleasure; and, before parting, Pownal exchanged some words apart withEsther, having for their object the promotion of her gues
t's andher own comfort. The kind heart of the squaw needed no incentivesto conceal and protect Holden, but Pownal felt he had no right toencroach upon her slender means, and such arrangements were made aswould more than compensate her.

  As the sleigh started from the door, Anne said to Pownal, with sometenderness in the tone of her voice:

  "You need not tell me, Mr. Pownal, the name of one of the strangePaladins last night. How will Faith thank and admire you. But, O, letme beg you to be prudent, lest you fall into the power of these badmen."

  It would have better suited the feelings of Pownal, had Anne utteredher own thanks more directly. His inexperience and distrust of himselfdid not comprehend that it was in reality the way in which the modestgirl expressed the admiration that swelled her heart.