The Lost Hunter

by John Turvill Adams

  CHAPTER XLII.

  O, you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! The untuned and jarring senses O, wind up!

  KING LEAR.

  As soon as they reached the house of Armstrong, Dr. Elmer was sentfor, and to him Holden communicated the events of the morning, notconcealing his own relationship. This last particular was a case notprovided for in the books, or coming within the scope of the gooddoctor's practice. Contenting himself, therefore, with ejaculating,

  "Is this the lord Talbot, Uncle Gloster, That hath so long been resident in France?"

  he shook Holden by the hand as an evidence of welcome, and, withouthesitation, assented to the propriety of the Solitary's suggestion,that the insanity of Armstrong and his attempted violence, shouldbe kept secret. Rest was prescribed by the doctor for Faith, whom,contrary to her inclinations, he compelled to retire to her chamber,whither he sent a composing draught, with assurances that her fatherwas doing well, which declaration, probably, had quite as much effectin inducing the slumbers that succeeded, as the anodyne. He nextturned his attention to her father.

  No one, without particular observation, would have remarked any changein him. Upon returning home, he had quietly entered the parlor and satdown in a large arm-chair, which was a favorite seat, looking firstaround with a grave and pleased expression. His daughter was with himthen, who, indeed, until the arrival of the physician, had remained byhis side, and nothing seemed to please Armstrong so much as retainingher hand in one of his, to pass the other over her silken hair, andlet it slide down over the pale cheeks, all the time gazing at herwith an appearance of infinite affection. But when the doctor felt hispulse, he found it bounding like a frightened steed; and this symptom,together with the heightened crimson of the cheeks, and deepeningblackness of the eyes, but too plainly revealed the access of violentfever. Bleeding was in vogue in those days, and much practised, andthe skill of Elmer could suggest nothing better for the pressureof blood on the brain, than letting blood. Having had, therefore,Armstrong conducted to his chamber, he opened a vein, and bleeding himtill he fainted, he afterwards administered the medicines he thoughtproper, enjoining the strictest quiet, promising to be with him everymoment that his professional engagements permitted. During the wholeArmstrong was passive, yielding himself like a child to all that wasrequired, and seeming to be in a beatitude, which made whatever mightoccur of but little concernment. As the doctor was about leaving,he accepted of Holden's proposal, which was rather uttered as adetermination, to remain, and send for his son. "If," thought Elmer,"Holden is Armstrong's brother, he has a right to stay; if not, he hasat least saved Faith's life, as she says herself, and he knows afterall, a 'hawk from a hand-saw.' Young Holden, too, is a sensiblefellow, and I think I may trust them." In some such way thronged thethoughts through Elmer's mind. "I will," he said to himself, "stop asI pass Judge Bernard's house, to let Anne know that her friendFaith is indisposed, and ask her to sleep with her to-night." Such,accordingly, was, for a short time the composition of the family underMr. Armstrong's roof.

  Once or twice daring the night Faith started in her sleep, and threwher arm around her lovely companion, as if to ask for protection, andAnne heard her moaning something indistinctly; but, on the whole, hersleep was refreshing, and in the morning she awoke, paler, indeed, andweaker than common, but with no other signs of illness about her.

  "They will soon pass off," said the doctor. "It was a severe shock,but youth and a good constitution are great odds."

  But it was not so with Armstrong. The combined effects of loss ofblood and of the medicines he had taken, were unable to calm theexcitement of the nerves, much less produce drowsiness. All night helay with eyes wide open, burning with fever, and calling for drink.But, although his body suffered, the exaltation of his mind continuedto triumph over pain, and, from the words that escaped him, from timeto time, it would seem as if he felt himself absolutely happy.

  When Doctor Elmer came in the morning, and heard the report of Holden,he expressed no surprise.

  "It is as I supposed," he said. "He must have a run of fever, and whatthe result may be, no mortal man can divine. Let us hope for the best,while prepared for the worst."

  Faith, from the moment she was permitted, was assiduous by thebed-side of her father. The delusion with respect to Holden, which hadtaken possession of him, whom, while continuing to recognize as hisbrother, George, he would not believe was alive, fancying it was hisspirit, extended itself after a time to his daughter, whom also hebelieved to be dead. So far as could be gathered from the disjointedutterances that escaped him, he supposed that his own spirit wastrying to escape from the body, and that the spirits of his brotherand daughter had been sent to comfort and assist him.

  Thus tossing and tumbling on a heated bed, which the delicious breathof June, streaming through the open windows, could not cool for him,passed nine long wretched days, during which the confinement of bothHolden and Faith was almost incessant, for whenever either moved fromthe bed or made a motion as if to leave the room, Armstrong wouldintreat them, in the most touching tones and pathetic language, whichneither the brother's nor daughter's heart could withstand, not toleave him, for he was just then ready, only one more struggle wasnecessary, and he should be free. And besides carrying into hisinsanity a habit, of which we have spoken, he would insist on holdingtheir hands. The touch of their heavenly bodies, he said, sent asensation of roses and lilies through his earthly body; they refinedhim and attracted him upward, and he was sure he had sometimes risen alittle way into the air. "O!" he would exclaim, "I never knew before,how much flowers resemble spirits. They smile and laugh alike, andtheir voices are very similar."

  On the tenth day the fever abated, and Armstrong gradually fell intoa long, deep sleep. So long, so profound was the slumber that theattendants about his bed feared that it might be one from which therewas no awaking. But the orders of the doctor, who, at the crisis waspresent the whole time, were peremptory that the patient should notbe disturbed, but Nature allowed, in her own way, to work out herbeneficent purposes. Armstrong then slept many, many hours, in thatstill and darkened room, while attentive ears were listening to thedeeper drawn breath, and anxious eyes watching the slightest change ofcountenance.

  At last he awoke, and the first word he spoke, so low, that even inthe hushed chamber it was scarcely audible, was, "Faith." A smile ofwonderful sweetness illuminated his face, as he tried to extend hishand, white as the snowy coverlet on which it rested, toward her, butso weak was he, that only a motion of the fingers could be perceived.Faith, through the tears which fell upon the hand she covered withkisses, could mark the light of returned intelligence, and her heartswelled with an almost overpowering emotion.

  "O, doctor," she said, turning to Elmer, "say he is safe."

  "I hope so," answered Elmer, "but control yourself. I forbid allagitation."

  The life of Armstrong, for some days longer, vibrated in thebalance. So excessive was the weakness consequent upon the tremendousexcitement through which he had passed, that sometimes it appearedhardly possible that nature could sufficiently rally, to bring thedelicate machinery again into healthy action. But stealing slowlyalong, insensibly, the gracious work went on, until one day theanxious daughter had the happiness to hear from the lips of the doctorthat her father was out of danger.

  It seems a strange thing, but so it is, that the events of thedreadful day, when, as if by a heavenly interposition, his hand hadbeen arrested when raised to take away the life of his daughter,and also of the time when he lay insane upon his bed, were blottedcompletely from the memory of Armstrong. The scratches of a school-boyon a slate were never more perfectly erased by a wet sponge. All hisconduct proves this. When he beheld his brother after the return ofreason, he addressed him as Mr. Holden, and never, in conversationwith any one, did he make allusion to his aberration of mind. Norduring the short period while he remained on earth, did he know of hisconduct on the banks of the Wootuppocut. The secre
t was confined tothe bosoms of a few, and it was mutually agreed that it was wisest itshould be concealed.

  It was not until the health of Armstrong seemed completely restoredthat his brother, in the presence of his son and of Faith, disclosedhis relationship. He had made it known before to his son, to whom, aswell as to his father, we must, for the brief period our acquaintancewith them continues, give their true name of Armstrong. It may well beconceived, that young Armstrong had no objections to recognize in thelovely Faith a cousin, nor was she unwilling to find a relative in theamiable and intelligent young man.

  But, if they were pleased, how shall we express the happiness of JamesArmstrong? The sting of a sorrow that had poisoned so many years ofhis life was extracted. If he had been the cause of misfortune to hisbrother, he had it now in his power to repair, in a degree, the wronghe had inflicted. Nor had he recovered only a brother, but alsoa nephew, whom he could love and respect, and who would, in somemeasure, supply the loss of his son, by transmitting his family name,the extinction of which no man can regard with indifference.

  Long was the conversation of the brothers after their children hadleft them to themselves. Together they wandered over the scenes ofchildhood, recalling its minutest, and, what would be to strangers,uninteresting scenes, George Armstrong listening, with a sad pleasure,to the details of his parents' lives after his own escape from theAsylum, and, also, to changes in the family of his brother since theirdeath; while James Armstrong as eagerly drank in the particulars ofhis brother George's adventures. But little respecting the latter needbe added, after what has been disclosed.

  We already know, that George Armstrong married, in one of the WesternStates, and commenced the life of a pioneer, and that, in a nightattack, his cabin had been burned, his wife killed, and his soncarried away by the savages. It would seem that the effect of thesemisfortunes was again to disturb his reason, and that, urged by apassion for revenge, he had made himself terrible, under the name ofOnontio (given by the natives, with what meaning is unknown,) amongthe Western Indians. But, after a time, the feeling passed away, andhe became, somehow, a subject of religious impressions, which assumedthe shape of a daily expectation of the Coming of Christ, joined witha firm belief in the doctrine of predestination. In this frame ofmind, influenced by a feeling like the instinct, perhaps, of the birdwhich returns from the southern clime, whither the cold of winter hasdriven it, to seek again the tree where hung the parental nest, GeorgeArmstrong came back to the place of his birth. He was supposed tobe dead, and, even without any such prepossession, no one would haverecognized him; for, the long beard he had suffered to grow, and thesorrow and hardship he had undergone, gave him an appearance of muchmore advanced age than his elder brother, and effectually disguisedhim. Why, instead of taking possession of the cabin, on Salmon Island,and secluding himself from society, he did not make himself known tohis brother and demand his inheritance, always puzzled the gossips ofHillsdale, and yet, it appears to us, susceptible of explanation.

  When he came from the West, he felt, at first, as if the ties whichhad united him to the world, were broken, never to be renewed. What hemost prized and loved he had lost. He was an exception to othermen. He had been isolated by destiny, whose iron finger pointed tosolitude, and solitude he chose as most congenial to his bruisedspirit. But, besides, an idea had mastered him, in whose presence thevanities and indulgences of the world and all worldly considerations,shrunk into insignificance. Of what consequence were wealth anddistinction to one who looked momently for the introduction of a stateof things, when they would be of less importance than the baubles of achild? The gay world might laugh and jest in its delusion, but it wasfor him to watch and pray. Some feeling of resentment, too, towardshis brother, may have helped to color his conduct. As time, however,wore on, his heart began to expand to human affections; for wehave seen, how fond he became of the society, first, of Faith,and, finally, of his brother; deriving, possibly, a sort of insanegratification from even the concealment of his relationship, as amiser gloats over the security of his hoard. It is, indeed, probable,that, but for the discovery of his son, he would have died withoutbetraying the secret, but, that discovery awakened anew feelings whichhe never expected to have again in this life. He looked upon hisson and the inheritance, which to him was valueless, assumedan importance. And it may be--who can tell?--that, sometimes, adoubt--for how long had he waited in vain?--might throw a shadowover his expectation of the Millennium. But this we have no meansof determining, and, as we shall presently see, his subsequent liferather sustains the opposite opinion.

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  By his great Author man was sent below, Some things to learn, great pains to undergo, To fit him for what further he's to know.

  This end obtained, without regarding time, He calls the soul home to its native clime, To happiness and knowledge more sublime.

  ALLAN RAMSAY

  The period of time which has elapsed since the occurring of the eventsdetailed in the preceding chapters, enables us to give a tolerablyfull account of the destiny of the actors, who, for the space of a fewmonths, have flitted across our stage.

  James Armstrong lived in the enjoyment of pretty good health some twoyears after his recovery. The melancholy with which nature had tingedhis disposition was, indeed, never quite eradicated, but probablythose two years were the sweetest and sunniest of his life. Those whomhe most loved were prosperous and happy, and the reflection of theirhappiness shone upon his daily walk. At the end of that time he fellasleep, and in the confidence of a lively faith and the comfort ofa holy hope, was gathered to his fathers. Immediately upon therestoration of his reason he had divided his estate with his brother,or rather with his nephew, for the Solitary refused to have anythingto do with wealth. It would be to him, he said, a burden. He was not apack-horse, to carry loads, though they were made of gold.

  With whatever eyes, however, the possession of property mightbe viewed by George Armstrong, his son, who, within a few monthsafterwards, was united to Anne Bernard, with even the approbation ofher brother, considered the addition thereby made to his income as nodisagreeable circumstance. Mr. and Mrs. Pownal, the benefactors of hisyouth, were present, and the former had the satisfaction of dancingat the wedding. No marriage could be more fortunate. A similarity oftaste and feeling and the harmonies of virtue had originally attractedand attached each to the other. Anne had loved Armstrong because sherecognized in him her own truthfulness and nobility of spirit, andhe her, for her grace and beauty, and that inexpressible charm ofsweetness of temper and gaiety of spirit, that, like the sun, diffuseslight and animation around. Their career has been like a summer-day. Anumerous family of children has sprung from the union, who promise toperpetuate the virtues of their parents. And it is to be hoped, andwe believe it to be a fact which the passage of so many years may beconsidered to have tolerably settled, that the fatal blood-taintof insanity, which had seemed hereditary on the side of one of theparents, has disappeared.

  As for the Solitary, who survived his brother many years, he couldnever be weaned from the mode of life he had adopted. As long asJames Armstrong lived, they were frequently together, few days passingwithout one seeking the other, as if both were striving to make upfor their long separation, but yet George Armstrong preferred the rudesimplicity of his hut, and his hard couch, to the elegant chamber andyielding bed, nor could he be persuaded to stop more than a night ortwo at any one time, either at the house of his brother or of hisson. The efforts made to change this feeling were soon found to beunavailing, and his commanding temper, as usual, had its way. Afterthe death of his brother, his visits to the village became lessfrequent, and he was seldom to be met with, except at the house ofhis son. It was a strange sight to see him, with two or threegrand-children on his knees, and playing, perhaps, with one of thelittle ones, amusing itself with hiding behind the flowing majesty ofhis long beard. A great part of his time was passed among the Indiansliving on the banks of the Severn, to the amelioration of whose
condition and Christianization he devoted himself to the last.And some insist that he never quite gave up the expectation of theMillennium during his life, for early fishermen, passing his hutbefore sunrise, are said to have reported that they had seen theSolitary more than once, waiting for the rising sun, and heard hisbursts of passionate expectation. An occurrence, too, at his death,which happened at the house of his son, justifies this opinion--whensitting up suddenly in his bed, he stretched out his arms, andexclaiming with a wild energy, "Lord, Thou art faithful and true, forI behold Thy coming," he fell back upon the pillow and expired. Fromrespect to the memory of his father, his son bought the island wherethe Solitary lived so many years, and having planted it with trees,declares it shall never pass out of the family during his own life,and so long as it can be protected by his will.

  Judge Bernard, his wife, the doctor, and the Pownals are gone, and thethree former repose with their friends in the romantic burial ground,to which we once before conducted our readers; the two latter in thecemetery of the thronged city, undisturbed by the sounding tread ofthe multitudes who daily pass their graves.

  William Bernard, about the time of the marriage of his sister, made aformal offer of his hand to Faith, but without success. He was refusedgently, but so decidedly, that no room was left for hope. But if theenamored young man lost his mistress, he was satisfied there was norival in the case, and moreover that probably there never would be.So selfish is the human heart, that this reflection mitigated thebitterness of his disappointment. Convinced that the prospect ofaltering her determination was hopeless, and unable to remain in herpresence, he made a voyage to Europe, where he remained five years,and on his return, entered into political life. He has since filledmany eminent stations with credit to himself and advantage to thecountry, and only delicacy restrains us from naming the high positionhe now occupies, of course under a different name from that we havechosen to give him. But he has never found another being to fill thevoid in his affections, and remains unmarried, the most graceful andattractive of old bachelors.

  And what shall we say of Faith, the pure, the high souled the devotedFaith? As long as her father lived, he continued to be the object ofher incessant solicitude. She watched him with a tenderness like thatof a mother hovering about her sick infant, devoting her whole lifeto his service, and when he died, the tears she shed were not those ofcomplaining grief, but of a sad thankfulness. Sad was she that no morein this world should she behold him whom she had ever treasured in herinner heart; thankful that with unclouded reason and resigned trust,he had returned to the Source whence he came. Soon after his death,she joined her uncle in his labors among the Indians, abandoning herhome and devoting the whole of her large income to the promotion oftheir interests. There was much in her character that resembled thatof George Armstrong, and notwithstanding the disparity of years,caused each to find an attractive counterpart in the other. There wasthe same enthusiasm, trespassing from constitutional tendencies,upon the very verge of reason; the same contempt of the world andits allurements; the same reaching forward toward the invisible. Hersurpassing beauty, her accomplishments and great wealth, brought manysuitors to her feet, but she had a heart for none. She turned a deafear to their pleadings, and "in maiden meditation fancy free," pursuedher course like the pale moon through heaven. Perhaps the awful shockwhich she received on the terrible day when the appearance of heruncle saved her life, working on a temperament so exalted, mayhave contributed to confirm and strengthen what was at first only atendency, and so decided the character of her life. She died as suchgifted beings are wont to do, young, breathing out her delicate soulwith a smile, upon the bosom of her faithful friend, Anne Armstrong.A purer spirit, and one better fitted to join the bright array of theblessed, never left the earth, and to those who knew her, it lookeddark and desolate when she departed.

  We have thus disposed of the principal personages in our drama. Itremains to speak of some of those who have borne an inferior part inthe scenes.

  Esther left, with Quadaquina, for the Western tribes about thetime when the boy attained the age of sixteen years, and historicalaccuracy compels us to admit, that, since their departure, we havelost all traces of them. One would suppose she would have remainedwith her powerful protectors, but it may be she feared thedemoralization around her, to which, in spite of the efforts of thebenevolent to the contrary, so many of her fated race fell victims,and preferred to expose Quadaquina to the perils of savage life,rather than to the tender mercies of civilization. We stronglysuspect, that her wild creed was never fairly weeded out of her heart.

  Primus remained to the end the same cheery, roguish fellow we haveseen him, and when he died was buried, as became a revolutionarycelebrity, with military honors, which so affected Felix, that, whenhis turn came--knowing that he was entitled to no such distinction,and, yet loth to pass away unnoticed--he begged Doctor Elmer towrite him a "first-rate epithet." The doctor redeemed his promise, byprefacing a panegyric, in English, with the following quotation fromVirgil--

  Hic jacet FELIX QUI Potuit Rerum cognoscere Causas QUI Que Metus omnes Et inexorabile Fatum Subjecit Pedibus Strepitumque Acherontis avari.

  The doctor, on being asked its meaning, one day, by an inquisitivenegro, who had, for some time, been rolling the whites of his eyes atthe inscription, in a vain attempt to understand it, replied, it meantthat Felix was an intelligent and brave fellow, who lived like awise man, and died like a hero, whereat, his auditor expressedgreat satisfaction, considering both the Latin and the sentiment acompliment to "colored pussons," generally.

  Gladding emigrated to the West, where his stout arm and keen axe didhimself and the State good service. After making a fabulous number of"claims," and as many "trades," he found himself, at middle age, themaster of a thousand acres of cleared land, with a proper proportionof timber; his log-cabin converted into a brick house, and sons anddaughters around him.

  We had almost forgotten to speak of the fate of Constable Basset. Thegood people of Hillsdale soon found out that his talents did not liein the line he had adopted, and, at the next election, chose anotherin his place. Thereupon, not discouraged, he turned his hand, withnational facility, to something else--following, successively, thebusiness of a small grocer, of a tavern keeper, and of an auctioneer.Somehow or other, however, ill luck still followed him; and, finally,he took to distributing the village newspaper, and sticking uphandbills. This gave him a taste for politics, and having acquired,in his employment as auctioneer, a certain fluency of speech, hecultivated it to that degree--in town meetings and on other publicoccasions--that, in the end, there was not a man in the whole countywho could talk longer and say less. His fellow-citizens observing thiscongressional qualification, and not knowing what else he was fitfor, have just elected him to Congress, partly because of thisaccomplishment, and, partly, on account of his patriotic dislike of"furriners," a sentiment which happens now to be popular. Both hisfriends and enemies agree that he is destined to make a figure there;and Mr. Thomas Armstrong--in compensation, perhaps, for a youthfultrick--has promised the Member of Congress a new hat and full suitof black broadcloth, to enable him to appear in proper style onPennsylvania Avenue.

  THE END