"Why so sorry, major?" he said. "Warrior nebber die but once-- _must_ die sometime."
"There lie my father, my mother, and my only sister, Indian--is not that enough to make the stoutest heart bend? You knew them, too, Nick-- did you ever know better?"
"Squaw good--both squaw good--Nick see no pale-face squaw he like so much."
"I thank you, Nick! This rude tribute to the virtues of my mother and sister, is far more grateful to me than the calculating and regulated condolence of the world."
"No squaw _so_ good as ole one--she, all heart--love every body, but self."
This was so characteristic of his mother, that Willoughby was startled by the sagacity of the savage, though reflection told him so long an acquaintance with the family must have made a dog familiar with this beautiful trait in his mother.
"And my father, Nick!" exclaimed the major, with feeling--"my n.o.ble, just, liberal, gallant father!--He, too, you knew well, and must have loved."
"No so good as squaw," answered the Tuscarora, sententiously, and not altogether without disgust in his manner.
"We are seldom as good as our wives, and mothers, and sisters, Nick, else should we be angels on earth. But, allowing for the infirmities of us men, my father was just and gocd."
"Too much flog"--answered the savage, sternly--"make Injin"s back sore."
This extraordinary speech struck the major less, at the time, than it did, years afterwards, when he came to reflect on all the events and dialogues of this teeming week. Such was also the case as to what followed.
"You are no flatterer, Tuscarora, as I have always found in our intercourse. If my father ever punished you with severity, you will allow, me, at least, to imagine it was merited."
"Too much flog, I say," interrupted the savage, fiercely. "No difference, chief or not. Touch ole sore too rough. Good, some; bad, some. Like weather--now shine; now storm."
"This is no time to discuss these points, Nick. You have fought n.o.bly for us, and I thank you. Without your aid, these beloved ones would have been mutilated, as well as slain; and Maud--my own blessed Maud-- might now have been sleeping at their sides."
Nick"s face was now all softness again, and he returned the pressure of Willoughby"s hand with honest fervor. Here they separated. The major hastened to the side of Maud, to fold her to his heart, and console her with his love. Nick pa.s.sed into the forest, returning no more to the Hut. His path led him near the grave. On the side where lay the body of Mrs. Willoughby, he threw a flower he had plucked in the meadow; while he shook his finger menacingly at the other, which hid the person of his enemy. In this, he was true to his nature, which taught him never to forget a favour, or forgive an injury.
Chapter x.x.x.
"I shall go on through all eternity, Thank G.o.d, I only am an embryo still: The small beginning of a glorious soul, An atom that shall fill immensity."
c.o.xe.
A fortnight elapsed ere Willoughby and his party could tear themselves from a scene that had witnessed so much domestic happiness; but on which had fallen the blight of death. During that time, the future arrangements of the survivors were completed. Beekman was made acquainted with the state of feeling that existed between his brother- in-law and Maud, and he advised an immediate union.
"Be happy while you can," he said, with bitter emphasis. "We live in troubled times, and heaven knows when we shall see better. Maud has not a blood-relation in all America, unless there may happen to be some in the British army. Though we should all be happy to protect and cherish the dear girl, she herself would probably, prefer to be near those whom nature has appointed her friends. To me, she will always seem a sister, as you must ever be a brother. By uniting yourselves at once, all appearances of impropriety will be avoided; and in time, G.o.d averting evil, you can introduce your wife to her English connections."
"You forget, Beekman, that you are giving this advice to one who is a prisoner on parole, and one who may possibly be treated as a spy."
"No--that is impossible. Schuyler, our n.o.ble commander, is both just and a gentleman. He will tolerate nothing of the sort. Your exchange can easily be effected, and, beyond your present difficulties, I can pledge myself to be able to protect you."
Willoughby was not averse to following this advice; and he urged it upon Maud, as the safest and most prudent course they could pursue. Our heroine, however, was so reluctant even to a.s.suming the appearance of happiness, so recently after the losses she had experienced, that the lover"s task of persuasion was by no means easy. Maud was totally free from affectation, while she possessed the keenest sense of womanly propriety. Her intercourse with Robert Willoughby had been of the tenderest and most confidential nature, above every pretence of concealment, and was rendered sacred by the scenes through which they had pa.s.sed. Her love, her pa.s.sionate, engrossing attachment, she did not scruple to avow; but she could not become a bride while the stains of blood seemed so recent on the very hearth around which they were sitting. She still saw the forms of the dead, in their customary places, heard their laughs, the tones of their affectionate voices, the maternal whisper, the playful, paternal reproof, or Beulah"s gentle call.
"Yet, Robert," said Maud, for she could now call him by that name, and drop the desperate familiarity of "Bob,"--"yet, Robert, there would be a melancholy satisfaction in making our vows at the altar of the little chapel, where we have so often worshipped together--the loved ones who are gone and we who alone remain."
"True, dearest Maud; and there is another reason why we should quit this place only as man and wife. Beekman has owned that a question will probably be raised among the authorities at Albany concerning the nature of my visit here. It might relieve him from an appeal to more influence than would be altogether pleasant, did I appear as a bridegroom rather than as a spy."
The word "spy" settled the matter. All ordinary considerations were lost sight of, under the apprehensions it created, and Maud frankly consented to become a wife that very day. The ceremony was performed by Mr. Woods accordingly, and the little chapel witnessed tears of bitter recollections mingling with the smiles with which the bride received the warm embrace of her husband, after the benediction was p.r.o.nounced.
Still, all felt that, under the circ.u.mstances, delay would have been unwise. Maud saw a species of holy solemnity in a ceremony so closely connected with scenes so sad.
A day or two after the marriage, all that remained of those who had so lately crowded the Hut, left the valley together. The valuables were packed and transported to boats lying in the stream below the mills.
All the cattle, hogs, &c., were collected and driven towards the settlements; and horses were prepared for Maud and the females, who were to thread the path that led to Fort Stanwix. In a word, the Knoll was to be abandoned, as a spot unfit to be occupied in such a war. None but labourers, indeed, could, or would remain, and Beekman thought it wisest to leave the spot entirely to nature, for the few succeeding years.
There had been some rumours of confiscations by the new state, and Willoughby had come to the conclusion that it would be safer to transfer this property to one who would be certain to escape such an infliction, than to retain it in his own hands. Little Evert was ent.i.tled to receive a portion of the captain"s estate by justice, if not by law. No will had been found, and the son succeeded as heir-at- law. A deed was accordingly drawn up by Mr. Woods, who understood such matters, and being duly executed, the Beaver Dam property was vested in fee in the child. His own thirty thousand pounds, the personals he inherited from his mother, and Maud"s fortune, to say nothing of the major"s commission, formed an ample support for the new-married pair.
When all was settled, and made productive, indeed, Willoughby found himself the master of between three and four thousand sterling a year, exclusively of his allowances from the British government, an ample fortune for that day. In looking over the accounts of Maud"s fortune, he had reason to admire the rigid justice, and free-handed liberality with which his father had managed her affairs. Every farthing of her income had been transferred to capital, a long minority nearly doubling the original investment. Unknown to himself, he had married one of the largest heiresses then to be found in the American colonies. This was unknown to Maud, also; though it gave her great delight on her husband"s account, when she came to learn the truth.
Albany was reached in due time, though not without encountering the usual difficulties. Here the party separated. The remaining Plinys and Smashes were all liberated, handsome provisions made for their little wants, and good places found for them, in the connection of the family to which they had originally belonged. Mike announced his determination to enter a corps that was intended expressly to fight the Indians. He had a long score to settle, and having no wife or children, he thought he might amuse himself in this way, during a revolution, as well as in any other.
"If yer honour was going anywhere near the county Leitrim," he said, in answer to Willoughby"s offer to keep him near himself, "I might travel in company; seein" that a man likes to look on ould faces, now and then. Many thanks for this bag of gold, which will sarve to buy scalps wid"; for divil bur-r-n me, if I don"t carry on _that_ trade, for some time to come. T"ree cuts wid a knife, half a dozen pokes in the side, and a bullet sc.r.a.ping; the head, makes a man mindful of what has happened; to say nothing of the captain, and Madam Willoughby, and Miss Beuly--G.o.d for ever bless and presarve "em all t"ree--and, if there was such a thing as a bit of a church in this counthry, wouldn"t I use this gould for ma.s.ses?--_dat_ I would, and let the scalps go to the divil!"
This was an epitome of the views of Michael O"Hearn. No arguments of Willoughby"s could change his resolution; but he set forth, determined to ill.u.s.trate his career by procuring as many Indian scalps, as an atonement for the wrongs done "Madam Willoughby and Miss Beuly," as came within his reach.
"And you, Joyce," said the major, in an interview he had with the serjeant, shortly after reaching Albany; "I trust _we_ are not to part. Thanks to Colonel Beekman"s influence and zeal, I am already exchanged, and shall repair to New York next week. You are a soldier; and these are times in which a _good_ soldier is of some account.
I think I can safely promise you a commission in one of the new provincial regiments, about to be raised."
"I thank your honour, but do not feel at liberty to accept the offer. I took service with Captain Willoughby for life; had he lived, I would have followed wherever he led. But that enlistment has expired; and I am now like a recruit before he takes the bounty. In such cases, a man has always a right to pick his corps. Politics I do not much understand; but when the question comes up of pulling a trigger _for_ or _against_ his country, an _unengaged_ man has a right to choose. Between the two, meaning no reproach to yourself, Major Willoughby, who had regularly taken service with the other side, before the war began--but, between the two, I would rather fight an Englishman, than an American."
"You may possibly be right, Joyce; though, as you say, my service is taken. I hope you follow the dictates of conscience, as I am certain I do myself. We shall never meet in arms, however, if I can prevent it.
There is a negotiation for a lieutenant-colonelcy going on, which, if it succeed, will carry me to England. I shall never serve an hour longer against these colonies, if it be in my power to avoid it."
"_States_, with your permission, Major Willoughby," answered the serjeant, a little stiffly. "I am glad to hear it, sir; for, though I wish my enemies good soldiers, I would rather not have the son of my old captain among them. Colonel Beekman has offered to make me serjeant-major of his own regiment; and we both of us join next week."
Joyce was as good as his word. He became serjeant-major, and, in the end, lieutenant and adjutant of the regiment he had mentioned. He fought in most of the princ.i.p.al battles of the war, and retired at the peace, with an excellent character. Ten years later, he fell, in one of the murderous Indian affairs, that occurred during the first oresidential term, a grey-headed captain of foot. The manner of his death was not to be regretted, perhaps, as it was what he had always wished might happen; but, it was a singular fact, that Mike stood over his body, and protected it from mutilation; the County Leitrim-man having turned soldier by trade, re-enlisting regularly, as soon as at liberty, and laying up scalps on all suitable occasions.
Blodget, too, had followed Joyce to the wars. The readiness and intelligence of this young man, united to a courage of proof, soon brought him forward, and he actually came out of the revolution a captain. His mind, manners and information advancing with himself, he ended his career, not many years since, a prominent politician in one of the new states; a general in the militia--no great preferment, by the way, for one who had been a corporal at the Hut--and a legislator.
Worse men have often acted in all these capacities among us; and it was said, with truth, at the funeral of General Blodget, an accident that does not always occur on such occasions, that "another revolutionary hero is gone." Beekman was never seen to smile, from the moment he first beheld the dead body of Beulah, lying with little Evert in her arms. He served faithfully until near the close of the war, falling in battle only a few months previously to the peace. His boy preceded him to the grave, leaving, as confiscations had gone out of fashion by that time, his uncle heir-at-law, again, to the same property that he had conferred on himself.
As for Willoughby and Maud, they were safely conveyed to New York, where the former rejoined his regiment. Our heroine here met her great- uncle, General Meredith, the first of her own blood relations whom she had seen since infancy. Her reception was grateful to her feelings; and, there being a resemblance in years, appearance and manners, she transferred much of that affection which she had thought interred for ever in the grave of her reputed father, to this revered relative. He became much attached to his lovely niece, himself; and, ten years later, Willoughby found his income quite doubled, by his decease.
At the expiration of six months, the gazette that arrived from England, announced the promotion of "Sir Robert Willoughby, Bart., late major in the ---th, to be lieutenant colonel, by purchase, in His Majesty"s ---th regiment of foot." This enabled Willoughby to quit America; to which quarter of the world he had no occasion to be sent during the remainder of the war.
Of that war, itself, there is little occasion to speak. Its progress and termination have long been matters of history. The independence of America was acknowledged by England in 1783; and, immediately after, the republicans commenced the conquest of their wide-spread domains, by means of the arts of peace. In 1785, the first great a.s.saults were made on the wilderness, in that mountainous region which has been the princ.i.p.al scene of our tale. The Indians had been driven off, in a great measure, by the events of the revolution; and the owners of estates, granted under the crown, began to search for their lands in the untenanted woods. Such isolated families, too, as had taken refuge in the settlements, now began to return to their deserted possessions; and soon the smokes of clearings were obscuring the sun. Whitestown, Utica, on the site of old Fort Stanwix, Cooperstown, for years the seat of justice for several thousand square miles of territory, all sprang into existence between the years 1785 and 1790. Such places as Oxford, Binghamton, Norwich, Sherburne, Hamilton, and twenty more, that now dot the region of which we have been writing, did not then exist, even in name; for, in that day, the appellation and maps came after the place; whereas, now, the former precede the last.
The ten years that elapsed between 1785 and 1795, did wonders for all this mountain district. More favourable lands lay spread in the great west, but the want of roads, and remoteness from the markets, prevented their occupation. For several years, therefore, the current of emigration which started out of the eastern states, the instant peace was proclaimed, poured its tide into the counties mentioned in our opening chapter--_counties_ as they are to-day; _county_ ay, and fragment of a county, too, as they were then.
The New York Gazette, a journal that frequently related facts that actually occurred, announced in its number of June 11th, 1795, "His Majesty"s Packet that has just arrived"--it required half a century to teach the journalists of this country the propriety of saying "His _Britannic_ Majesty"s Packet," instead of "His Majesty"s," a bit of good taste, and of good sense, that many of them have yet to learn--"has brought _out_," _home_ would have been better "among her pa.s.sengers, Lieutenant-General Sir Robert Willoughby, and his lady, both of whom are natives of this state. We welcome them back to their land of nativity where we can a.s.sure them they will be cordially received notwithstanding old quarrels. _Major_ Willoughby"s kindness to American prisoners is gratefully remembered; nor is it forgotten that he desired to exchange to another regiment in order to avoid further service in this country."
It will be conceded, this was a very respectable puff for the year 1795, when something like moderation, truth, and propriety were observed upon such occasions. The effect was to bring the English general"s name into the mouths of the whole state; a baronet causing a greater sensation then, in America, than a duke would produce to-day.
It had the effect, however, of bringing around General Willoughby many of his father"s, and his own old friends, and he was as well received in New York, twelve years after the termination of the conflict, as if he had fought on the other side. The occurrence of the French revolution, and the spread of doctrines that were termed Jacobinical, early removed all the dissensions between a large portion of the whigs of America and the tories of England, on this side of the water at least; and Providence only can tell what might have been the consequences, had this feeling been thoroughly understood on the other.
Pa.s.sing over all political questions, however, our narrative calls us to the relation of its closing scene. The visit of Sir Robert and Lady Willoughby to the land of their birth was, in part, owing to feeling; in part, to a proper regard for the future provision of their children.
The baronet had bought the ancient paternal estate of his family in England, and having two daughters, besides an only son, it occurred to him that the American property, called the Hutted Knoll, might prove a timely addition to the ready money he had been able to lay up from his income. Then, both he and his wife had a deep desire to revisit those scenes where they had first learned to love each other, and which still held the remains of so many who were dear to them.