If these were the fervors of enthusiasm, it was an enthusiasm kindled and fed by the holy flame that glows on the altar of God – an enthusiasm that never abates, but gathers life and strength as the immortal soul expands in the image of its Creator.
We shall now leave the little community, assembled at Bethel, to perform the last offices for one who had been among them an example of all the most attractive virtues of woman. The funeral ceremony was then, as it still is, among the descendants of the pilgrims, a simple affectionate service; a gathering of the people – men, women, and children, as one family, to the house of mourning.
Mononotto and his party in their flight had less than an hour’s advantage of their pursuers; and, retarded by their captives, they would have been compelled to despatch them, or have been overtaken, but for their sagacity in traversing the forest; they knew how to wind around morasses, to shape their course to the margin of the rivulets, and to penetrate defiles, while their pursuers, unpractised in that accurate observation of nature, by which the savage was guided, were clambering over mountains, arrested by precipices, or half buried in swamps.
After an hour’s silent and rapid flight, the Indians halted to make such arrangements as would best accelerate their retreat. They placed the little Leslie on the back of one of the Mohawks, and attached her there by a happis, or strong wide band, passed several times over her, and around the body of her bearer. She screamed at her separation from Oneco, but being permitted to stretch out her hand and place it in his, she became quiet and satisfied.
The Mohawk auxiliaries, who so lately had seemed two insatiate bloodhounds, now appeared to regard the reciprocal devotion of the children with complacency; but their amity was not extended to Everell; and Saco in particular, the Indian whom he had wounded, and whose arm was irritated and smarting, eyed him with glances of brooding malignity. Magawisca perceived this, and dreading lest the savage should give way to a sudden impulse of revenge, she placed herself between him, and Everell. This movement awakened Mononotto from a sullen reverie, and striking his hands together, angrily, he bade Magawisca remove from the English boy.
She obeyed, and mournfully resumed her place beside her father, saying, as she did so, in a low thrilling tone, “my father – my father! – where is my father’s look, and voice? – Mononotto has found his daughter, but I have not found my father.”
Mononotto felt her reproach – his features relaxed, and he laid his hand on her head.
“My father’s soul awakes!” she cried, exultingly. “Oh, listen to me – listen to me!” – she waived her hand to the Mohawks to stop, and they obeyed. “Why,” she continued in an impassioned voice – “why hath my father’s soul stooped from its ever upward flight? Till this day his knife was never stained with innocent blood. Yonder roof,” and she pointed towards Bethel, “has sheltered thy children – the wing of the mother bird was spread over us – we ate of the children’s bread; then, why hast thou shed their blood? – why art thou leading the son into captivity? Oh, spare him! – send him back – leave one light in the darkened habitation!”
“One,” echoed Mononotto; “did they leave me one? No; – my people, my children, were swept away like withered leaves before the wind – and there where our pleasant homes were clustered, is silence and darkness – thistles have sprung up around our hearth stones, and grass has overgrown our pathways. Magawisca, has thy brother vanished from thy memory? I tell thee, that as Samoset died, that boy shall die. My soul rejoiced when he fought at his mother’s side, to see him thus make himself a worthy victim to offer to thy lion-hearted brother – even so fought Samoset.”
Magawisca felt that her father’s purpose was not to be shaken. She looked at Everell, and already felt the horrors of the captive’s fate – the scorching fires, and the torturing knives; and when her father commanded the party to move onward, she uttered a piercing shriek.
“Be silent, girl,” said Mononotto, sternly; “cries and screams are for children and cowards.”
“And I am a coward,” replied Magawisca, reverting to her habitually calm tone, “if to fear my father should do a wrong, even to an enemy, is cowardice.” Again her father’s brow softened, and she ventured to add, “send back the boy, and our path will be all smooth before us – and light will be upon it, for my mother often said, ‘the sun never sets on the soul of the man that doeth good.’”
Magawisca had unwittingly touched the spring of her father’s vindictive passions. “Dost thou use thy mother’s words,” he said, “to plead for one of the race of her murderers? Is not her grave among my enemies? Say no more, I command you, and speak not to the boy; thy kindness but sharpens my revenge.”
There was no alternative. Magawisca must feel, or feign submission; and she laid her hand on her heart, and bowed her head, in token of obedience. Everell had observed, and understood her intercession, for, though her words were uttered in her own tongue, there was no mistaking her significant manner; but he was indifferent to the success of her appeal. He still felt the dying grasp of his mother – still heard his slaughtered sisters cry to him for help – and, in the agony of his mind, he was incapable of an emotion of hope, or fear.
The party resumed their march, and suddenly changing their direction, they came to the shore of the Connecticut. They had chosen a point for their passage where the windings of the river prevented their being exposed to view for any distance; but still they cautiously lingered till the twilight had faded into night. While they were taking their bark canoe from the thicket of underwood, in which they had hidden it, Magawisca said, unobserved, to Everell, “keep an eagle eye on our pathway – our journey is always towards the setting sun – every turn we make is marked by a dead tree, a lopped branch, or an arrow’s head carved in the bark of a tree; be watchful – the hour of escape may come.” She spoke in the lowest audible tone, and without changing her posture or raising her eyes; and though her last accents caught her father’s ear, when he turned to chide her he suppressed his rebuke, for she sat motionless, and silent as a statue.
The party were swiftly conveyed to the opposite shore. The canoe was then again taken from the river and plunged into the wood; and believing they had eluded pursuit, they prepared to encamp for the night. They selected for this purpose a smooth grassy area, where they were screened and defended on the river side by a natural rampart, formed of intersecting branches of willows, sycamores, and elms.
Oneco collected dead leaves from the little hollows, into which they had been swept by eddies of wind, and, with the addition of some soft ferns, he made a bed and pillow for his little favourite, fit for the repose of a wood nymph. The Mohawks regarded this labour of love with favour, and one of them took from his hollow girdle some pounded corn, and mixing grains of maple sugar with it, gave it to Oneco, and the little girl received it from him as passively as the young bird takes food from its mother. He then made a sylvan cup of broad leaves, threaded together with delicate twigs, and brought her a draught of water from a fountain that swelled over the green turf and trickled into the river, drop by drop, as clear and bright as crystal. When she had finished her primitive repast, he laid her on her leafy bed, covered her with skins, and sang her to sleep.
The Indians refreshed themselves with pounded maize, and dried fish. A boyish appetite is not fastidious, and, with a mind at ease, Everell might have relished this coarse fare; but now, though repeatedly solicited, he would not even rise from the ground where he had thrown himself in listless despair. No excess of misery can enable a boy of fifteen for any length of time to resist the cravings of nature for sleep. Everell, it may be remembered, had watched the previous night, and he soon sunk into oblivion of his griefs. One after another, the whole party fell asleep, with the exception of Magawisca, who sat apart from the rest, her mantle wrapped closely around her, her head leaning against a tree, and apparently lost in deep meditation. The Mohawks, by way of precaution, had taken a position on each side of Everell, so as to render it next to impossible for their prisoner to move without awakening them. But love, mercy, and hope, count nothing impossible, and all were at work in the breast of Magawisca. She warily waited till the depth of the night, when sleep is most profound, and then, with a step as noiseless as the falling dew, she moved round to Everell’s