UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 HOPE LESLIE: 
 
 OR, 
 
 EARLY TIMES 
 
 THE M ASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 4 6 9§ 
 
 y THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 LIVE," " REDWOOD," &C. 
 
 Here stood the Indian chieftain, rejoicing in his glory ! 
 How deep the shade of sadness that rests upon his story : 
 For the white man came with power — like brethren they met — 
 But the Indian fires went out, and the Indian sun has set I 
 
 And the chieftain has departed — gone is his hunting-gi-ound, 
 
 And the twanging of the bowstring is a forgotten sound : 
 
 Where dwelleth yesterday 1 and where is Echo's cell ? 
 
 Where has the rainbow vanished ? — there does the Indian dwell. — E. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 62 CLIFF- ST. ^^ 
 
 1842.
 
 ..-.v..iig lo Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by 
 Harper & Brothers, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 %
 
 PS 
 H77 
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 ) 
 
 ^ \ " Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, 
 
 \jl, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthrall'd ; 
 
 Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm, 
 Shall in the happy trial prove most glory." 
 
 '^'^ . COMUS. 
 
 ' «[ William Fletcher was the son of a respectable 
 'I country gentleman of Suffolk, in England, and the 
 *• destined heir of his uncle, Sir William Fletcher, an 
 eminent lawyer, who had employed his talents with 
 ^ such effective zeal and pliant principle, that he had 
 Y won his way to courtly favour and secured a courtly 
 ^ fortune. 
 
 Sir William had only one child — a daughter ; and 
 possessing the common ambition of transmitting his 
 name with his w^ealth, he selected his nephew as the 
 
 r future husband of his daughter Alice. 
 " Take good heed," Sir William thus expressed 
 himself in a letter to his brother, " take good heed 
 * that the boy be taught unquestioning and unqualified 
 ;^ loyalty to his sovereign — the Alpha and Omega of 
 ^ political duty. These are times when every true 
 "^ subject h^s his price. Divers of the leaders of the 
 Commons are secret friends of the seditious, mis- 
 chief-brewing Puritans ; and Buckingham himself is 
 
 33G033
 
 4 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 suspected of favouring their cabals; but this sub 
 rosa — I burn not my fingers with these matters. 
 ' He who meddleth with another man's strifes, taketh 
 a dog by the ear,' said the wisest man that ever 
 lived ; and he, thank God, was a king. Caution 
 Will against all vain speculation and idle inquiries : 
 there are those that are forever inquiring and inqui- 
 ring, and never coming to the truth. One inquiry 
 should suffice for a loyal subject : * What is estab- 
 lished V and that being weU ajc&rtained^Jh jine 
 of duty is so plain, that h e who runs may read. 
 
 "I would that all our youths had inscrlBeH on 
 their hearts that golden rule of political religion, 
 framed and well maintained by our good Queen 
 Elizabeth, 'No man should be suffered to decline, 
 either on the left or on the right hand, from the 
 drawn line limited by authority, and by the sover- 
 eign's laws and injunctions.' 
 
 - " Instead of such healthy maxims, our lads' heads 
 are crammed with the philosophy, and rhetoric, and 
 history of those liberty-loving Greeks and Romans. 
 This is the pernicious lore that has poisoned our ac- 
 ademical fountains. Libertj[^! what is it ? Daughter 
 of Disloyalty, and mother of all misrule, who, from 
 the hour that she tempted our first parents to forfeit 
 Paradise, hath ever worked mischief to our race. 
 
 " But, above all, brother, as you value the tempo- 
 ral salvation of your boy, restrain him from all con- 
 federacy, association, or even acquaintance with the 
 Puritans. If my master took counsel of me, he 
 would ship these mad canting fools to our New-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 5 
 
 England colonies, where their tender consciences 
 would be no more offended, because, forsooth, a pre- 
 late saith his prayers in white vestments, and w^here 
 they might enjoy with the savages that primitive 
 equality about which they make such a pother. 
 God forefend that our good lad William should com- 
 pany with these misdoers ! He must be narrowly 
 w^atched ; for, as I hear, there is a neighbour of 
 yours, one Winthrop (a notable gentleman, too, as 
 they say, but he doth grievously scandalize his birth 
 and breeding), who hath embraced these scurvy 
 principles, and doth magnify them with the authori- 
 ty of his birth and condition, and hath much weight 
 with the country. There is in Suffolk, too, as I am 
 told, one Eliot, a young zealot, a fanatical incendi- 
 ary, who doth find ample combustibles in the gossip- 
 ing matrons, idle maidens, and lawless youth who 
 flock about him. 
 
 " These are dangerous neighbours ; rouse yourself, 
 brother ; give over your idle sporting wdth hawk and 
 hound, and watch over this goodly scion of ours — 
 ours, I say; but I forewarn you, no daughter or guinea 
 of mine shall ever go to one who is infected with 
 this spreading plague." 
 
 This letter was too explicit to be misunderstood ; 
 but, so far from having the intended effect of awa- 
 kening the caution of the expectant of fortune, it 
 rather stimulated the pride of the independent coun- 
 try gentleman. He permitted his son to follow the 
 bent of accident, or the natural course of a serious, 
 reflecting, and enthusiastic temper. Winthrop, the 
 A 2
 
 6 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 future governor of Massachusetts, was the counsellor 
 of young Fletcher, and Eliot, the " apostle of New- 
 England," his most intimate friend. These were 
 men selected of Heaven to achieve a great work. 
 In the quaint language of the time," the Lord sifted 
 three nations for precious seed to sow the wilderness." 
 
 There were interested persons who were not slow 
 in conveying to Sir William unfavourable reports of 
 his nephew, and the young man received a summons 
 from his uncle, who hoped, by removing him from 
 the infected region, to rescue him from danger. 
 
 Sir William's pride was gratified by the elegant 
 appearance and graceful deportment of his nephew, 
 "whom he had expected to see with the " slovenly and 
 lawyer-like carriage" that marked the scholars of the 
 times. The pliant courtier was struck with the lofty 
 independence of the youth, who from the first show^- 
 ed that neither frowns nor favour would induce him 
 to bow the knee to the idols Sir William had served. 
 There was something in this independence that awed 
 the inferior mind of the uncle. To him it was an 
 unknown, mysterious power, which he knew not how 
 to approach, and almost despaired of subduing. 
 However, he was experienced in life, and had ob- 
 served enough of human infirmity to convince him 
 that there was no human virtue that had not some 
 •weak, some assailable point. Time and circum- 
 stances were not long in developing the vulnerabil- 
 ity of the nephew. Alice Fletcher had been the 
 companion of his childhood. They now met without 
 any of the reserve that often prevents an intimate in-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 7 
 
 tercourse between young persons, and proceeds from 
 the consciousness of a susceptibility which it would 
 seem to deny. 
 
 The intercourse of the cousins was renewed with 
 all the frankness and artlessness of the sunny season 
 of childish love and confidence. Alice had been 
 educated in retirement by her mother, whom she had 
 recently attended through a long and fatal illness. 
 She had been almost the exclusive object of her love, 
 for there was little congeniality between the father 
 and daughter. The ties of nature may command all 
 dutiful observances, but they cannot control the af- 
 fections. Alice was deeply afflicted by her bereave- 
 ment. Her cousin's serious temper harmonized with 
 her sorrow, and nature and opportunity soon indis- 
 solubly linked their hearts together. 
 
 Sir William perceived their growing attachment, 
 and exulted in it ; for, as he fancied, it reduced his 
 nephew to dependance on his will and whims. He 
 had never himself experienced the full strength of 
 any generous sentiment, but he had learned from ob- 
 servation that love was a controlling passion, and he 
 now most anxiously watched and promoted the kin- 
 dling of the flame, in the expectation that the fire 
 would subdue the principles of civil and religious lib- 
 erty with which he had but too well ascertained the 
 mind of his nephew to be imbued. 
 
 He silently favoured the constant and exclusive 
 intercourse of the young people : he secretly con- 
 trived various modes of increasing their mutual de- 
 pendance; and, when he was certain their happi- 
 
 »^^.
 
 8 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ness was staked, he cast the die.' He told his neph- 
 ew that he perceived and rejoiced in the mutual af- 
 fection that had so naturally sprung up between him 
 and his daughter, and he confessed their union had 
 been the favourite object of his life ; and said that 
 he now heartily accorded his consent to it, prescri- 
 bing one condition only — but that condition was un- 
 alterable. " You must abjure, William, in the pres- 
 ence- of witnesses," he said, " the fanatical notions 
 of liberty and religion with which you have been 
 infected ; you must pledge yourself, by a solemn 
 oath, to unqualified obedience to the king, and ad- 
 herence to the EstabUshed Church : you shall have 
 time enough for the effervescence of your young 
 blood. God send this fermentation may work off 
 all impurities. Nay, answer me not now. Take a 
 day — a week — a month for consideration; for on 
 your decision depends fortune and love, or the al- 
 ternative, beggary and exile." 
 
 If a pit had yawned beneath his feet and swal- 
 lowed Alice from his view, William Fletcher could 
 not have been more shocked. He was soul-stricken, 
 as one who listens to a sentence of death. To his 
 eye the earth was shrouded in darkness; not an ob- 
 ject of hope or pursuit remained. 
 
 He had believed his uncle was aware of what he 
 must deem his poUtical and religious delinquency; 
 but he had never spoken to him on the subject : he 
 had treated him with marked favour, and he had so 
 evidently encouraged his attachment to his cousin 
 that he had already plighted his love to her, and re-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 9 
 
 ceived her vows without fearing that he had passed 
 even the limit of strict prudence. 
 
 There was no accomnaodating flexibihty in his prin- 
 ciples ; his fidelity to what he deemed his duty could 
 not have been subdued by the fires of martyrdom, 
 and he did not hesitate to sacrifice what was dearer 
 than life to it. He took the resolution at once to fly 
 from the temptation that, present, he dared not trust 
 himself to resist. 
 
 " I shall not again see my Alice," he said. " I 
 have not courage to meet her smiles j I have not 
 strength to endure her tears." 
 
 In aid of his resolution there came, most oppor- 
 tunely, a messenger from his father, requiring his im- 
 mediate presence. This afforded him a pretext for 
 his sudden departure from London. He left a few- 
 brief lines for Alice, that expressed without explain- 
 ing the sadness of his heart. 
 
 His father died a few hours before he arrived at 
 the paternal mansion. He was thus released from 
 his strongest natural tie. His mother had been long 
 dead ; and he had neither brother nor sister. He 
 inherited a decent patrimony, sufficient at least to 
 secure the independence of a gentleman. He im- 
 mediately repaired to Groton, to his friend Win- 
 throp; not that he should dictate his duty to him, 
 but as one leans on the arm of a friend when he 
 finds his own strength scarcely sufficient to support 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Winthrop is well known to have been a man 
 of the most tender domestic affections and sympa-
 
 10 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 thies ; but he had then been long married — and 
 thrice married — and probably a little dimness had 
 come over his recollection of the enthusiasm of a 
 first passion. When Fletcher spoke of Alice's une- 
 qualled loveliness, and of his own unconquerable 
 love, his friend listened as one listens to a tale he 
 has heard a hundred times, and seemed to regard 
 the cruel circumstances in which the ardent lover 
 was placed only in the light of a providential op- 
 portunity of making a sacrifice to the great and good 
 cause to which this future statesman had even then 
 begun to devote himself, as the sole object of his life. 
 He treated his friend's sufferings as in their nature 
 transient, and concluded by saying, " the Lord hath 
 prepared this fire, my friend, to temper your faith, 
 and you will come out of it the better prepared for 
 your spiritual warfare." 
 
 Fletcher listened to him with stern resolution, like 
 him who permits a surgeon to probe a wound which 
 he is himself certain is incurable. 
 
 Mr. Winthrop knew that a ship was appointed to 
 sail from Southampton in a few days for New-Eng- 
 land. With that characteristic zeal Avhich then 
 made all the intentions of Providence so obvious to 
 the eye of faith, and the interpretation of all the 
 events of life so easy, Mr. Winthrop assured his 
 friend that the designs of Heaven in relation to him 
 were plain. He said, " There was a great call for 
 such services as he could render in the expedition 
 just about to sail, and which was like to fail for 
 the want of them ; and that now, like a faithful ser-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 11 
 
 vant to the cause he had confessed, he must not look 
 behind, but press on to the things that were before." 
 
 Fletcher obeyed the voice of Heaven. 
 
 This is no romantic fiction. Hundreds in that day- 
 resisted all that solicits earthly passions, and sacri- 
 ficed all that gratifies them to the cause of God and 
 of man — the cause of liberty and religion. This 
 cause was not to their eyes invested with any roman- 
 tic attractions. It was not assisted by the illusions 
 of chivalry, nor magnified by the spiritual power and 
 renown of crusades. Our fathers neither had, nor 
 expected their reward on earth. 
 
 One severe duty remained to be performed. 
 Fletcher must announce their fate to Alice. He 
 honoured her too much to believe she would have 
 permitted the sacrifice of his integrity, if he would 
 have made it. He, therefore, had nothing to excuse ; 
 nothing but to tell the terrible truth ; to try to recon- 
 cile her to her father ; to express, for the last time, 
 his love, and to pray that he might receive, at South- 
 ampton, one farewell line from her. Accompanying 
 his letter to Ahce was one to Sir WilUam, announ- 
 cing the decision to resign his favour and exile 
 himself forever from England. 
 
 He arranged his affairs, and in a few days receiv- 
 ed notice that the vessel was ready to sail. He re- 
 paired to Southampton ; and as he was quitting the 
 inn to embark in the small boat that was to convey 
 him to the vessel, already in the oflSng, a voice from 
 an inner apartment pronounced his name, and at 
 the next moment Ahce was in his arms. She gen-
 
 12 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 tly reproved him for having estimated her affection 
 at so low a rate as not to have anticipated that she 
 should follow him and share his destiny. It was 
 more than could have been expected from man that 
 Fletcher should have opposed such a resolution. He 
 had but a moment for deliberation. Most of the 
 passengers had already embarked ; some still linger- 
 ed on the strand, protracting their last farewell to 
 their country and their friends. In the language of 
 one of the most honoured of these pilgrims, " Truly 
 doleful was the sight of that sad and mournful part- 
 ing, to hear what sighs, and sobs, and prayers did 
 sound among them ; what tears did gush from every 
 eye, and pithy speeches pierced each other's hearts." 
 
 With the weeping group Fletcher left Alice and 
 her attendants, while he went to the vessel to prepare 
 for her suitable reception. He there found a clergy- 
 man, and bespoke his holy offices to unite him to his 
 cousin immediately after their embarcation. 
 
 All the necessary arrangements were made, and 
 he was returning to the shore, his eye fixed on the 
 lovely being whom he believed Heaven had inter- 
 posed to give to him, when he descried Sir William's 
 carriage, guarded by a cavalcade of armed men, in 
 the uniform of the king's guards, approaching the 
 spot where she stood. 
 
 He comprehended at once their cruel purpose. 
 He exhorted the boatmen to put forth all their 
 strength ; he seized the oars himself — despair gave 
 him supernatural power — the boat shot forward with 
 the velocity of light ; but all in vain ! he only ap-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 13 
 
 preached near enough to the shore to hear Ahce's 
 last impotent cries to him ; to see her beautiful face 
 convulsed ^vith agony, and her arms outstretched to- 
 \vards him, when she was forced to the carriage by 
 her father, and driven from his sight. 
 
 He leaped on the strand; he folio w^ed tne troop 
 with cries and entreaties ; but he was only answered 
 by the coarse jeering and profane jests of the sol- 
 diery. 
 
 Notice was soon given that the boat was ready 
 to return to the ship for the last time, and Fletcher, 
 in a state of agitation and despair, almost amount- 
 ing to insanity, permitted it to return without him. 
 
 He went to London, and requested an interview 
 with his uncle. The request was granted, and a long 
 and secret conference ensued. It was known by 
 the servants of the household that their mistress, 
 Alice, had been summoned by her father to this 
 meeting, but what was said or done did not trans- 
 pire. Immediately after. Fletcher returned to Mr. 
 Winthrop's, in Suffolk. The fixedness of despair 
 w^as on his countenance; but he said nothing, even 
 to this confidential friend, of the interview with his 
 uncle. The particulars of the affair at Southampton, 
 which had already reached Suffolk, seemed suffi- 
 ciently to explain his misery. 
 
 In less than a fortnight he there received de- 
 spatches from" his uncle, informing him that he had 
 taken effectual measures to save himself from a sec- 
 ond conspiracy against the honour of his family; 
 that his daughter Alice had that day been led to 
 Vol. L— B
 
 14 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the altar by Charles Leslie , and concluding with a 
 polite hope that, though his voyage had been inter- 
 rupted, it might not be long deferred. 
 
 Alice had, indeed, in the imbecility of utter de- 
 spair, submitted to her father's commands. It was 
 intimated at the time, and reported for many years 
 after, that she had suffered a total alienation of mind. 
 To the world this was never contradicted, for she 
 lived in absolute retirement; but those who best 
 knew could have attested that, if her mind had de- 
 parted from its beautiful temple, an angelic spirit 
 had entered in and possessed it. 
 
 William Fletcher was in a few months persuaded 
 to unite himself with an orphan girl, a ward of Mr. 
 Winthrop, who had, in the eyes of the elders, all 
 the meek graces that befitted a godly maiden and du- 
 tiful helpmate. Fletcher remained constant to his 
 purpose of emigrating to New-England, but he did 
 not effect it till the year 1630, when he embarked 
 with his family and effects in the ship Arbella, with 
 Governor Winthrop, who then, for the first time, 
 went to that land where his name will ever be held 
 in affectionate and honourable remembrance.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. l5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " For the temper of the brain in quick apprehensions and acute 
 judgments, to say no more, the most High and Sovereign God hath 
 not made the Indian inferior to the European." — Roger Williams. 
 
 The magnitude of the enterprise in which the first \ 
 settlers of New-England were engaged, the terrific I 
 obstacles they encountered, and the hardships they I 
 endured, gave to their characters a seriousness and / 
 solemnity, heightened, it may be, by the severity off 
 their religious faith. -^ 
 
 Where all were serious, the melancholy of an in- 
 dividual was not conspicuous; and Mr. Fletcher's 
 sadness would probably have passed unnoticed but 
 for the reserve of his manners, which piqued the 
 pride of his equals, and provoked the curiosity of his 
 inferiors. 
 
 The first probably thought that the apostolic prin- 
 ciple of community of goods at least extended to 
 opinions and feelings ; and the second always fancy, 
 when a man shuts the door of his lips, that there must 
 be some secret worth knowing within. 
 
 Like many other men of an ardent temperament 
 and disinterested love of his species, Mr. Fletcher 
 was disappointed at the slow operation of principles 
 which, however efficient and excellent in the abstract, 
 were to be applied to various and discordant subjects. 
 Such men, inexperienced in the business of hfe, are
 
 16 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 like children, who, setting out on a journey, are im- 
 patient after the few first paces to be at the end of it. 
 They cannot endure the rebuffs and delays that re- 
 tard them in their course. These are the men of 
 genius — the men of feeling — the men that the world 
 calls visionaries ; and it is because they are visiona- 
 ries — because they have a beau-ideal in their own 
 minds, to which they can see but a faint resemblance 
 in the actual state of things, that they become impa- 
 tient of detail, and cannot brook the slow progress 
 to perfection. They are too rapid in their anticipa- 
 tions. The character of man and the institutions of 
 society are yet very far from their possible and des- 
 tined perfection. Still, how far is the present age 
 in advance of that which drove reformers to a dreary 
 wilderness ! which hanged Quakers ! which con- 
 demned to death, as witches, innocent, unoffending- 
 old women ! But it is unnecessary to heighten the 
 glory of day by comparing it with the preceding 
 twilight. 
 
 To return to Mr. Fletcher. He w^as mortified at 
 seeing power , which had been earned at so dear a 
 rate, and which he had fondly hoped was to be ap- 
 plied to the advancement of man's happiness, som e- 
 times perverted to purposes of oppression and per- 
 sor ial aggra ndizement. He was shocked when a re- 
 ligious republic, which he fancied to be founded on 
 the basis of established truth, was disturbed by the 
 outbreak of heresies ; and his heart sickened when he 
 saw those who had sacrificed whatever man holds 
 dearest to religious freedom, imposing those shackles
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 17 
 
 on others from which they had just released them- 
 selves at such a price. Partly influenced by these 
 disgusts, and partly by that love of contemplation 
 and retirement that belongs to a character of his 
 cast, especially when depressed by some early disap- 
 pointment, he refused the offices of honour and trust 
 that were from time to time offered to him ; and 
 finally, in 1636, when Pynchon, Holioke, and Chapin 
 formed their settlement at Springfield, on Connecti- 
 cut River, he determined to retire from the growing 
 community of Boston to this frontier settlement. 
 
 Mr s. Fletcher received his decision as all wives of 
 that age of undisputed masculine supremacy (or most 
 of those of our less passive age) would do, with„meek 
 submission. The inconveniences and dangers of that 
 outpost were not unknown to her, nor did she under- 
 rate them ; but Abraham would as soon have remon- 
 strated against the command that bade him go forth 
 from his father's house into the land of the Chaldees, 
 as she would have failed in passive obedience to the 
 resolve of her husband. 
 
 The removal was effected early in the summer of 
 1636. Springfield assumed at once, under the aus- 
 pices of its wealthy and enterprising proprietors, the 
 aspect of a village. The first settlers followed the 
 course of the Indians, and planted themselves on the 
 borders of rivers — the natural gardens of the earth, 
 where the soil is mellowed and enriched by the an- 
 nual overflov/ing of the streams, and prepared by the 
 unassisted processes of nature to yield to the indolent 
 Indian his scanty supply of maize and other esculents. 
 B 2
 
 18 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 The wigwams which constituted the village, or, to 
 use the graphic aboriginal description, the " smoke" 
 of the natives, gave place to the clumsy, but more 
 convenient dwellings of the Pilgrims. 
 
 Where there are now contiguous rows of shops, 
 filled with the merchandise of the East, the manu- 
 factures of Europe, the rival fabrics of our own coun- 
 try, and the fruits of the tropics ; where now stand 
 the stately hall of justice, the academy, the bank, 
 churches orthodox and heretic, and all the symbols 
 of a rich and populous community, were, at the ear- 
 ly period of our history, a few log houses, planted 
 around a fort defended by a slight embankment and 
 palisade. 
 
 The mansions of the proprietors were rather more 
 spacious and artificial than those of their more hum- 
 ble associates, and were built on the well-known 
 model of the moclest dwelling illustrated by the birth 
 of Milton : a form still abounding in the eastern parts 
 of Massachusetts, and presenting to the eye of a New- 
 Englander the familiar aspect of an awkward friend- 
 ly country cousin. 
 
 The first clearing was limited to the plain. The 
 beautiful hill that is now the residence of the gentry 
 (for there yet lives such a class in the heart of our 
 democratic community), and is embellished with 
 stately edifices and expensive pleasure-grounds, was 
 then the border of a dense forest, and so richly frin- 
 ged with the original growth of trees that scarce a 
 sunbeam had penetrated to the parent earth. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was at first welcomed as an important
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 19 
 
 acquisition to the infant establishment ; but he soon 
 proved that he purposed to take no part in its con- 
 cerns, and, in spite of the remonstrances of the pro- 
 prietors, he fixed his residence a mile from the vil- 
 lage, deeming exposure to the incursions of the sav- 
 ages very slight, and the surveillance of an inquiring 
 neighbourhood a certain evil. His domain extend- 
 ed from a gentle eminence, that commanded an ex- 
 tensive view of the bountiful Connecticut, to the 
 shore, where the river indented the meadow by one 
 of those sweeping graceful curves by which it seems 
 to dehght to beautify the land it nourishes. 
 
 The border of the river was fringed with all the wa- 
 ter-loving trees ; but the broad meadows were quite 
 cleared, excepting that a few elms and sycamores 
 had been spared by the Indians, and consecrated by 
 tradition as the scene of revels or councils. The 
 house of our pilgrim was a low-roofed modest struc- 
 ture, containing ample accommodation for a patri- 
 archal family ; where children, dependants, and ser- 
 vants were all to be sheltered under one roof-tree. 
 On one side, as we have described, lay anopenandyf^AV] 
 extensive plain; within view was the curling smoke ^.^^ 
 from the little cluster of houses about the forf — the 
 h^itation of civilize d man ; but all else was a sav- 
 age howling wilde rness . ~v<^' 
 
 "^Never was a name more befitting the condition of 
 a people than " Pilgrim" that of our forefather. It 
 should be redeemed from the puritanical and ludi- 
 crous associations which have degraded it in most 
 men's minds, and be hallowed by the sacrifices made 
 
 ■>ij
 
 20 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 by these voluntary exiles. They were pilgrims, for 
 they had resigned forever what the good hold most 
 dear — their homes. fHome can never be transferred ; 
 never repeated in the experience of an individual. 
 The place consecrated by parental love, by the in- 
 nocence and sports of childhood, by the first ac- 
 quaintance with nature, by the linking of the heart 
 to the visible creation, is the only home. There, 
 there is a living and breathing spirit infused into na- 
 ture : every familiar object has a history ; the trees 
 have tongues, and the very air is vocal. There the 
 vesture of decay doth not close in and control the 
 noble functions of the soul. It sees, and hears, and 
 enjoys without the ministry of gross material sub- 
 stancerj 
 
 Mr. Fletcher had resided a few months in Spring- 
 field, when he one day entered, with an open letter 
 in his hand, that apartment of his humble dwelling 
 styled, by courtesy, the parlour. His wife was sit- 
 ting there with her eldest son, a stripling of fourteen, 
 busily assisting him in twisting a cord for his cross- 
 bow. She perceived that her husband looked dis- 
 turbed ; but he said nothing, and her habitual defer- 
 ence prevented her inquiring into the cause of his 
 discomposure. 
 
 After taking two or three turns about the room, 
 he said to his son, " Everell, my boy, go to the door, 
 and await there the arrival of an Indian girl ; she 
 is, as you may see, yonder by the river side, and will 
 be here shortly. I would not that Jennet should, at 
 the very first, shock the child with her discourteous
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 21 
 
 " Child ! coming here !" exclaimed the boy, drop- 
 ping his bow and gazing through the window. 
 " Who is she 1 that tall girl, father : she is no more 
 a child than I am !" 
 
 His mother smiled at an exclamation that betrayed 
 a common juvenile jealousy of the honour of dawn- 
 ing manhood, and bade the boy obey his father's di- 
 rections. When Everell had left the apartment, 
 Mr. Fletcher said, " I have just received letters from 
 Boston — from Governor Winthrop — " He paused. 
 
 " Our friends are all well, I hope," said Mrs. 
 Fletcher. 
 
 " Yes, Martha, our friends are all well ; but these 
 letters contain something of more importance than 
 aught that concerns the health of the perishing 
 body." 
 
 Mr. Fletcher again hesitated, and his wife, per- 
 plexed by his embarrassment, inquired, "Has poor 
 deluded Mrs. Hutchinson again presumed to disturb 
 the peace of God's people ?" 
 
 " Martha, you aim wide of the mark. My pres- 
 ent emotions are not those of a mourner for Zion. 
 A ship has arrived from England, and in it came — " 
 
 " My brother Stretton !" exclaimed Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " No, no, Martha. It will be long ere Stretton 
 quits his paradise to join a suffering people in the 
 wilderness." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and when he again 
 spoke, the softened tone of his voice evinced that he 
 was touched by the expression of disappointment, 
 slightly tinged by displeasure, that shaded his wife's
 
 22 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 gentle countenance. " Forgive me, my dear wife," 
 he said. " I should not have spoken aught that im- 
 plied censure of your brother, for I know he hath 
 ever been most precious in your eyes ; albeit, not 
 the less so that he is yet without the fold. That 
 which I have to tell you — and it were best that it 
 were quickly told — is, that my cousin Alice was a 
 passenger in this newly-arrived ship. Martha, your 
 blushes wrong you. The mean jealousies that de- 
 grade some women have, I am sure, never been har- 
 boured in your heart." 
 
 " If I deserve your praise, it is because the Lord 
 has been pleased to purify my heart and make it his 
 sanctuary. But, if I have not the jealousies, I have 
 the feelings of a woman, and I cannot forget that 
 you was once affianced to your cousin Alice ; and — " 
 
 " And that I once told you, Martha, frankly, that 
 the affection I gave to her could not be transferred 
 to another. That love grew with my growth, 
 strengthened with my strength. Of its beginning I 
 had no more consciousness than of the commence- 
 ment of my existence. It was sunshine and flowers 
 in all the paths of my childhood. It inspired every 
 hope, modified every project; such was the love I 
 bore to Alice — love immortal as the soul ! 
 
 " You know how cruelly w^e were severed at South- 
 ampton ; how she was torn from the strand by the 
 king's guards, within my view, almost within my 
 grasp. How Sir William tempted me with the offer 
 of pardon, my cousin's hand, and — poor temptation 
 indeed after that — honours, fortune. You know that
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 23 
 
 even Alice, my precious, beautiful Alice, knelt to 
 me. That, smitten of God and man, and for the 
 moment bereft of the right use of reason, she would 
 have persuaded me to yield my integrity. You know 
 that her cruel father reproached me with virtually 
 breaking my plighted troth. That many of my 
 friends urged my present conformity ; and you know", 
 Martha, that there was a principle in my bosom that 
 triumphed over all these temptations. And think 
 you not that principle has preserved me faithful in 
 my friendship to you? Think you not that your 
 obedience, your careful conformity to my wishes, 
 your steady love, which hath kept far more than 
 even measure with my deserts, is undervalued — can 
 be lightly estimated ?" 
 
 " Oh, I know," said the humble wife, " that your 
 goodness to me does far surpass my merit ; but, be- 
 think you, it is the nature of a woman to crave the 
 first place." 
 
 " It is the right of a wife, Martha ; and there is 
 none now to contest it wdth you. This is but the 
 second time I have spoken to you on a subject that 
 has been much in our thoughts ; that has made me 
 wayward, and would have made my sojourning on 
 earth miserable, but that you have been my support 
 and comforter. These letters contain tidings that 
 have opened a long-sealed fountain. My uncle. Sir 
 William, died last January. Leslie perished in a 
 foreign service. Alice, thus leleased from all bonds, 
 and sole mistress of her fortunes, determined to cast 
 her lot in the heritage of God's people. She em-
 
 24 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 barked with her two girls, her only children ; a tem- 
 pestuous voyage proved too much for a constitution 
 already broken by repeated shocks. She was fully 
 aware of her approaching death, and died as befits 
 a child of faith, in sweet peace. Would to God I 
 could have seen her once more; but," he added, 
 raising his eyes devoutly, " not my will, but thine be 
 done ! The sister of Leslie, a Mistress Grafton, at- 
 tended Alice, and with her she left a will, commit- 
 ting her children to my guardianship. It will be ne- 
 cessary for me to go to Boston to assume this trust. 
 I shall leave home to-morrow, after making suitable 
 provision for your safety and comfort during my ab- 
 sence. These children will bring additional labour 
 to your household; and in good time hath our 
 thoughtful friend. Governor Winthrop, procured for 
 us two Indian servants. The girl has arrived. The 
 boy is retained about the little Leslies, the young- 
 est of whom, it seems, is a petted child, and is par- 
 ticularly pleased by his activity in ministering to her 
 amusement. 
 
 "I am glad if any use can be made of an Indian 
 servant," said Mrs. Fletcher, who, oppressed with 
 conflicting emotions, expressed the lightest of them 
 — a concern at a sudden increase of domestic cares 
 where there were no facilities to lighten them. 
 
 " How any use ! You surely do not doubt, Martha, 
 that these Indians possess the same faculties that we 
 do 1 The girl just arrived, our friend writes me, hath 
 rare gifts of mind, such as few of God's creatures are 
 endowed with. She is just fifteen ; she understands
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 25 
 
 and speaks English perfectly well, having been 
 taught it by an English captive, who for a long 
 time dwelt with her tribe. On that account she 
 was much noticed by the English who traded with 
 the Pequods, and, young as she was, she acted as 
 their interpreter. 
 
 " She is the daughter of one of their chiefs ; and 
 when this wolfish tribe were killed, or dislodged from 
 their dens, she, her brother, and their mother, were 
 brought, with a few other captives, to Boston. They 
 were given for a spoil to the soldiers. Some, by a 
 Christian use of money, were redeemed ; and others, 
 I blush to say it, for * it is God's gift that every man 
 should enjoy the good of his own labour,' were sent 
 into slavery in the West Indies. Monoca, the moth- 
 er of these children, was noted for the singular dig- 
 nity and modesty of her demeanour. Many notable 
 instances of her kindness to the white traders are 
 recorded ; and when she was taken to Boston, our 
 worthy governor, ever mindful of his duties, assured 
 her that her good deeds were held in remembrance, 
 and that he would testify the gratitude of his people 
 in any way she should direct. * I have nothing to 
 ask,' she said, ' but that I and my children may re- 
 ceive no personal dishonour.' 
 
 *'The governor redeemed her children, and as- 
 sured her they should be cared for. For herself, 
 misery and sorrow had so wrought on her that she 
 w^as fast sinking into the grave. Many Christian 
 men and women laboured for her conversion, but she 
 would not even consent that the Holy Word should 
 
 Vol. T.— C
 
 26 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 be interpreted to her ; insisting, in the pride of her 
 soul, that all the children of the Great Spirit were 
 equal objects of His favour, and that He had not 
 deemed the book he had withheld needful to them." 
 
 " And did she," inquired Mrs. Fletcher, " thus 
 perish in her sins ?" 
 
 " She died," replied her husband, " immovably 
 fixed in those sentiments. But, Martha, we should 
 not suit God's mercy to the narrow frame of our 
 thoughts. This poor savage's life, as far as it has 
 come to our knowledge, w^as marked with innocence 
 and good deeds ; and I would gladly believe that 
 we may hope for her, on that broad foundation laid 
 by the apostle Peter : ' In every nation, he that fear- 
 eth God and worketh righteousness is accepted of 
 Him.' " 
 
 " That text," answered Mrs. Fletcher, her heart 
 easily kindling with the flame of charity, " is a light 
 behind many a dark scripture, like the sun shining- 
 all around the edges of a cloud that cannot hide all 
 \ its beams." 
 
 " Such thoughts, my dear wife, naturally spring 
 from thy kind heart, and are sweet morsels for pri- 
 vate meditation ; but it were well to keep them in 
 thine ow^n bosom, lest, taking breath, they should 
 lighten the fears of unstable souls. But here comes 
 the girl Magawisca, clothed in her Indian garb, 
 which the governor has permitted her to retain, not 
 caring, as he wisely says, to interfere with their in- 
 nocent p eculiarities ; and she, in particular, having 
 
 shown a loathmo- of the English dress.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 27 
 
 Everell Fletcher now threw wide open the parlour 
 door, inviting the Indian girl, by a motion of his 
 hand and a kind smde, to follow. She did so, and 
 remained standing beside him, with her eyes riveted 
 to the floor, while every other eye was turned to- 
 wards her. She and her conductor were no unfit 
 representatives of the people from whom they sprung. 
 Everell Fletcher was a fair, ruddy boy of four- 
 teen ; his smooth brow and bright curling hair bore 
 the stamp of the morning of life; hope, and confi- 
 dence, and gladness beamed in the falcon glance of 
 his keen blue eye, and love and frolic played about 
 his lips. The active, hardy habits £>f life in a new 
 country had already knit his frame and given him 
 the muscle of m.anhood, while his quick elastic step 
 truly expressed the untamed spirit of childhood — the 
 only spirit without fear and without reproach. His 
 dress was of blue cloth, closely fitting his person ; 
 the sleeves reached midway between the elbow and 
 wrist, and the naked and, as it would seem to a mod- 
 ern eye, awkward space, was garnished with deep- 
 pointed lace ruffles of a coarse texture; a ruff or 
 collar of the same material was worn about the neck. 
 
 The Indian stranger was tall for her years, which 
 did not exceed fifteen. Her form was slender, flex- 
 ible, and graceful; and there was a freedom and 
 loftiness in her movement which, though tempered 
 with modesty, expressed a consciousness of high 
 birth. Her face, although marked by the peculiari- 
 ties of her race, was beautiful even to a European 
 eye. Her features were regular, and her teeth v.diite
 
 28 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 as pearls ; but there must be something beyond sym- 
 metry of feature to fix the attention, and it was an 
 expre ssion of d isunity, thoughtfulness,_and_ deep jde- 
 j ection that macTe the^ye hnger on Ma p;awisca's 
 face, as if it were perusing there the legible record 
 of her birth and wrongs. Her hair, contrary to the 
 fashion of the Massachusetts Indians, was parted on 
 her forehead, braided, and confined to her head by 
 a band of small feathers, jet black, and interwoven, 
 and attached at equal distances by rings of polished 
 bone. She wore a waistcoat of deerskin, fastened 
 at the throat by a richly-wrought collar. Her arms, 
 a model for sculpture, were bare. A mantle of pur- 
 ple cloth hung gracefully from her shoulders, and 
 was confined at the waist by a broad band, orna- 
 mented with rude hieroglyphics. The mantle, and 
 her strait short petticoat, or kilt, of the same rare 
 and costly material, had been obtained, probably, 
 from the English traders. Stockings were an un- 
 known luxury ; but leggins, similar to those worn 
 by the ladies of Queen Elizabeth's court, were no 
 bad substitute. The moccasin, neatly fitted to a del- 
 icate foot and ankle, and tastefully ornamented with 
 bead-work, completed the apparel of this daughter 
 of a chieftain, which altogether had an air of wild 
 and fantastic grace, that harmonized well with the 
 noble demeanour and peculiar beauty of the young 
 savage. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher surveyed her for a moment with a 
 mingled feeling of compassion and curiosity, and 
 then turning away and leaning his head on the man-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 29 
 
 telpiece, his thoughts reverted to the subject that 
 had affected him far more deeply than he had ven- 
 tured to confess, even to the wife of his bosom. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher's first feeling was rather that of a 
 housewife than a tender woman. "My husband," 
 she thought, "might as well have brought a wild 
 doe from the forest to plough his fields, as to give 
 me this Indian girl for household labour ; but the 
 wisest men have no sense in these matters." This 
 natural domestic reflection was soon succeeded by a 
 sentiment of compassion, which scarcely needed to 
 be stimulated by Everell's whisper of " Do, mother, 
 speak to her." 
 
 " Magawisca," she said, in a friendly tone, " you 
 are welcome among us, girl." Magawisca bowed 
 her head. Mrs. Fletcher continued : " You should 
 receive it as a signal mercy, child, that you have 
 B een taken fr om the mi dst of a savage p eople, and 
 set in a Christian fam ily." Mrs. Fletcher paused for 
 her auditor's assent ; but the proposition was either 
 unintelligible or unacceptable to Magawisca. 
 
 " Mistress Fletcher means," said a middle-aged 
 serving-woman who had just entered the room, 
 " that you should be mighty thankful, Tawney, that 
 you are snatched as a brand from the burning." 
 
 " Hush, Jennet !" said Everell Fletcher, touching 
 the speaker with the point of an arrow which he 
 held in his hand. 
 
 Magawisca's eyes had turned on Jennet, flashing 
 like a sunbeam through an opening cloud. Ever- 
 ell's interposition touched a tender chord, and when 
 C 2
 
 30 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 she again cast them down, a tear trembled on their 
 lids. 
 
 "You will have no hard service to do," said Mrs. 
 Fletcher, resuming her address. " I cannot explain 
 all to you now ; but you will soon perceive that our 
 civilized life is far easier, far better and happier 
 than your wild wandering ways, which are, indeed, 
 as you will presently see, but little superior to those 
 of the wolves and foxes." 
 
 Magawisca suppressed a reply that her heart sent 
 to her quivering lips, and Everell said, " Hunted, 
 as the Indians are, to their own dens, I am sure, 
 mother, they need the fierceness of the wolf and the 
 cunning of the fox." 
 
 " True, true, my son," replied Mrs. Fletcher, who 
 really meant no unkindness in expressing what she 
 deemed a self-evident truth ; and then, turning again 
 to Magawisca, she said, in a gentle tone, " You have 
 had a long and fatiguing journey — was it not, girl V 
 
 " My foot," replied Magawisca, " is used to the 
 wild-wood path. The deer tires not of his way on 
 the mountain, nor the bird of its flight in the air." 
 
 She uttered her natural feeling in so plaintive a 
 tone that it touched the heart like a strain of sad mu- 
 sic ; and when Jennet again officiously interposed in 
 the conversation, by saying that " Truly these sav- 
 ages have their house in the wilderness, and their 
 way no man knows," her mistress cut short her out- 
 pouring by directing her to go to the outer door, and 
 learn who it was that Digby was conducting to the 
 house.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 31 
 
 A moment after, Digby, Mr. Fletcher's confiden- 
 tial domestic, entered with the air of one who has 
 important intelligence to communicate. He was 
 followed by a tall, gaunt Indian, who held in his hand 
 a deerskin pouch. " Ha ! Digby," said Mr. Fletch- 
 er, " have you returned ? What say the Commis- 
 sioners ? Can they furnish me a guide and attend- 
 ants for my journey ?" 
 
 " Yes, an please you, sir. I w^as in the nick of 
 time, for they were just despatching a messenger to 
 the governor." 
 
 " On what account ?" 
 
 " Why, it's rather an odd errand," replied Digby, 
 scratching his head with an awkward hesitation. 
 " I would not wish to shock my gentle mistress, who 
 will never bring her feelings to the queer fashions of 
 the New World ; but Lord's mercy, sir, you know we 
 think no more of taking off a scalp here than we did 
 of shaving our beards at home." 
 
 " Scalp !" exclaimed Mr. Fletcher. " Explain 
 yourself, Digby." 
 
 The Indian, as if to assist Digby's communication, 
 untied his pouch, and drew from it a piece of dried 
 and shrivelled skin, to which hair, matted together 
 with blood, still adhered. There was an expression 
 of fierce triumph on the countenance of the savage 
 as he surveyed the trophy with a grim smile. A 
 murmur of indignation burst from all present. 
 
 " Why did you bring that wretch here ?" demand- 
 ed Mr. Fletcher of his servant, in an angry tone. 
 
 " I did but obey Mr. Pynchon, sir. The_thi% is
 
 32 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 an_abo_raination to the soul and eye of a Christian, but 
 it has to be taken to Boston for the reward." 
 
 " What reward, Digby ?" 
 
 " The reward, sir, that is in reason expected for 
 the scalp of the Pequod chief" 
 
 As Digby uttered these last words, Magaw^isca 
 shrieked as if a dagger had pierced her heart. She 
 darted forward and grasped the arm that upheld the 
 trophy. " My father ! Mononotto !" she screamed, 
 in a voice of agony. 
 
 " Give it to her — by Heaven, you shall give it to 
 her," cried Everell, springing on the Indian, and lo- 
 sing all other thought in his instinctive sympathy for 
 Magaw^sca. 
 
 " Softly, softly, Mr. Everell," said Digby ; " that 
 is the scalp of Sassacus, not Mononotto. The Pe- 
 quods had two chiefs, you know." 
 
 Magawisca now released her hold ; and, as soon 
 as she could again command her voice, she said, in 
 her own native language, to the Indian, " My father — 
 my father — does he live ?" 
 
 " He does," answered the Indian, in the same di- 
 alect ; " he lives in the wigwam of the chief of the 
 Mohawks." 
 
 Magawnsca w^as silent for a moment, and knit her 
 brows as if agitated with an important deliberation. 
 She then undid a bracelet from her arm and gave it 
 to the Indian. " I charge ye," she said, " as ye hope 
 for game in your hunting-grounds, for the sun on 
 yo]^ wigwam, and the presence of the Great Spirit 
 in your death-hour — I charge ye to convey this token
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 33 
 
 to my father. Tell him his children are servants in 
 the house of his enemies ; but," she added, after a 
 moment's pause, " to whom am I trusting ? to the 
 murderer of Sassacus, my father's friend !" 
 
 " Fear not," replied the Indian ; " your errand 
 shall be done. Sassacus was a strange tree in our 
 forests; but he struck his root deep, and lifted his 
 tall head above our loftiest branches, and cast his 
 shadow over us, and I cut him down. I may not 
 return to my people, for they called Sassacus broth- 
 er, and they would fain avenge him. But fear not, 
 maiden, your errand shall be done." 
 
 Mr. Fletcher observed this conference, which he 
 could not understand, with some anxiety and dis- 
 pleasure, and he broke it off by directing Jennet to 
 conduct Magawisca to another apartment. 
 
 Jennet obeyed, muttering as she went, " A notable 
 providence, this, concerning the Pequod caitiff. Even 
 like Adonibezek, as he has done to others the Lord 
 hath requited him." 
 
 Mr. Fletcher then most reluctantly took into his 
 possession the savage trophy, and dismissed the In- 
 dian, deeply lamenting that motives of mistaken pol- 
 icy should tempt his brethren to depart from the 
 plainest principles of their religion.
 
 34 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " But ah ! who can deceive his destiny, 
 Or ween by warning to avoid his fate ?" 
 
 P'aikv Quken. 
 
 On the following morning Mr. Fletcher set out for 
 Boston, and, escaping all perils by flood and field, 
 arrived there at the expiration of nine days, having 
 accomplished the journey, now the affair of a single 
 day, with unusual expedition. 
 
 His wards were accompanied by two individuals, 
 who were now, with them, to become permanent 
 members of his family : Mrs. Grafton, the sister of 
 their father, and one Master Cradock, a scholar 
 "skilled in the tongues," who attended them as their 
 tutor. Mrs. Grafton was a widow, far on the shady 
 side of fifty ; though, as that was a subject to which 
 she never alluded, she probably regarded age with 
 the feelings ascribed to her sex, that being the last 
 quality for which womankind would wish to be hon- 
 oured, as is said by one whose satire is so good-hu- 
 moured that even its truth may be endured. She 
 was, unhappily for herself, as her lot was cast, a 
 zealous adherent to the Church of England. Good 
 people, who take upon themselves the supervisorship 
 of|||j:ieir neighbours' consciences, abounded in that 
 age, and from them Mrs. Grafton received frequent
 
 IIOFE LESLIE. bD 
 
 exhortations and remonstrances. To these she uni- 
 formly rephed, " That a faith and mode of religion 
 that had saved so many, was good enough to save 
 her ;" " that she had received her belief, just as it 
 was, from her father, and that he, not she, was re- 
 sponsible for it." Offensive such opinions must 
 needs be in a community of professed reformers, but 
 the good lady did not make them more so by the 
 obtrusiveness of over-wrought zeal. To confess the 
 truth, her mind was far more intent on the forms of 
 headpieces than modes of faith, and she w^as far 
 more ambitious of being the leader of fashion than 
 the leader of a sect. She would have contended 
 more earnestly for a favourite recipe than a favour- 
 ite dogma ; and though she undoubtedly believed 
 " a saint in crape" to be " twice a saint in lawn,'* 
 and fearlessly maintained that " no man could suit- 
 ably administer the offices of religion without 
 ^ gown, surplice, and wig,' " yet she chiefly directed 
 her hostilities against the puritanical attire of the 
 ladies of the colony, who, she insisted, "did most 
 unnaturally belie their nature as women, and their 
 birth and bringing-up as gentlewomen, by their ill- 
 fashioned, ill-sorted, and unbecoming apparel." To 
 this heresy she w^as fast gaining proselytes ; for, if 
 we may believe the " simple cobbler of Agawam," 
 there w^ere, even in those early and pure days, " nu- 
 giperous gentle dames who inquired what dress the 
 Queen is in this week." The contagion spread rap- 
 idly ; and when some of the most vigilant and zeal- 
 ous sentinels prbpos'ed~'that the preachers shofld
 
 36 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 make it the subject of public and personal reproof, 
 it was whispered that the scandal was not limited to 
 idle maidens, but that certain of the deacons' wives 
 were in it, and it was deemed more prudent to adopt 
 gentle and private measures to eradicate the evd ; 
 an evil so deeply felt as to be bewailed by the mer- 
 ciless " cobbler" above quoted in the following af- 
 fecting terms : " Methinks it would break the hearts 
 of Englishmen to see so many goodly English wom- 
 en imprisoned in French cages, peeping out of their 
 hood-holes for some men of mercy to help them with 
 a little wit, and nobody relieves them. We have 
 about five or six of them in our colony. If I see 
 any of them accidentally, I cannot cleanse my phan- 
 sie of them for a month after." 
 
 It would seem marvellous that a woman like Mrs. 
 Grafton, apparently engrossed with the world, living 
 on the foam and froth of life, should become a vol- 
 untary exile to the colonies ; but, to do her justice, 
 she was kind-hearted and affectionate, susceptible of 
 strong and controlling attachment, and the infant 
 children of a brother on whom she had doted out- 
 weighed her love of frivolous pleasures and personal 
 indulgence. 
 
 She certainly believed that the resolution of her 
 sister to go to the wilderness had no parallel in the 
 history of human folly and madness ; but, the reso- 
 lution once taken, and, as she perceived, unconquer- 
 able, she made her own destiny conformable, not 
 without some restiffness, but without serious repi- 
 lAg. It was an unexpected shock to her to be com-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 37 
 
 pelled to leave Boston for a condition of life not only 
 more rude and inconvenient, but really dangerous. 
 Necessity ^Jiowever, is more potent than philosophy, 
 and Mrs. Grafton, like most people, submitted with 
 patience to an inevitable evil. 
 
 As "good Master Cradock" was a man rather 
 acted upon than acting, we shall leave him to be 
 discovered by our readers as the light of others falls 
 on him. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher received the children — the relicts and 
 gifts of a woman whom he had loved as few men 
 can love — with an intense interest. The youngest, 
 Mary, was a pretty, petted child, wayward and bash- 
 ful. She repelled Mr. Fletcher's caresses, and ran 
 away from him to shelter herself in her aunt's arms ; 
 but Alice, the eldest, seemed instinctively to return 
 the love that beamed in the first glance that Mr. 
 Fletcher cast on her ; in that brief, eager glance he 
 saw the living and beautiful image of her mother. 
 So much w^as he impressed wdth the resemblance, 
 that he said, in a letter to his wife, that it reminded 
 him of the heathen doctrine of metempsychosis, and 
 he could almost believe the spirit of the mother was 
 transferred to the bosom of the child. The arrange- 
 ment Mr. Fletcher made for the transportation of 
 his charge to Springfield might probably be traced 
 to the preference inspired by this resemblance. 
 
 He despatched the little Mary with her aunt and 
 the brother of Magawisca, the Indian boy Oneco, 
 and such attendants as were necessary for their safe 
 conduct, and he retained Alice and the tutor to be 
 
 Vol. I.— D 
 
 336033
 
 38 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the companions of his journey. Before the children 
 were separated they were baptized by the Reverend 
 Mr. Cotton, and, in commemoration of the Christian 
 graces of their mother, their names were changed to 
 the puritanical appellations of Hope and Faith. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was detained, at first by business and 
 afterward by ill health, much longer than he had 
 expected, and the fall, winter, and earliest months of 
 spring wore away before he was able to set his face 
 homeward. In the mean time, his little community 
 at Bethel proceeded more harmoniously than could 
 have been hoped from the discordant materials of 
 which it w^as composed. This was owing, in great 
 part, to the wise and gentle Mrs. Fletcher, the sun of 
 her little system; all were obedient to the silent in- 
 fluence that controlled without being perceived. 
 The following letter which she wrote to Mr. Fletch- 
 er just before his return, contains some important 
 domestic details. 
 
 '• Springfield, 1638. 
 
 " To MY GOOD AND HONOURED HuSBAND : 
 
 " Thy kind letter v/as duly received fourteen days 
 after date, and was most welcome to me, containing, 
 as it does, a portion of that stream of kindness that 
 is ever flowing out from thy bountiful nature towards 
 me. Sweet and refreshing was it, as these gentle 
 days of spring after our sullen winter. Winter ! 
 ever disconsolate in these parts, but made tenfold 
 more dreary by the absence of that precious light by 
 which I have ever been cheered and jjjuided.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 39 
 
 " I thank thee heartily, my dear life, that thou dost 
 so warmly commend my poor endeavours to do well 
 in thy absence. I have truly tried to be faithful to 
 my little nesthngs, and to cheer them with notes of 
 gladness when I have drooped inwardly for the voice 
 of my mate. Yet my anxious thoughts have been 
 more with thee than with myself; nor have I been 
 unmindful of any of thy perplexities by sickness or 
 otherwise, but in all thy troubles I have been troub- 
 led, and have ever prayed that, whatever might be- 
 tide me, thou mightst return in safety to thy desiring 
 family. 
 
 " I have had many difficulties to contend wuth in 
 "thy absence, of which I have forborne to inform thee, 
 deeming it the duty of a wife never to disquiet her 
 husband with her household cares; but now that, 
 with the Lord's permission, thou art so soon to be 
 with us, I would fain render unto thee an account of 
 my stewardship, knowing that thou art not a hard 
 master, and wilt consider the will, and not the weak- 
 ness, of thy loving wife. 
 
 " This Dame Grafton is strangely out of place 
 here — fitter iov a parlour bird than a flight into the 
 wilderness ; and but that she cometh commended to us 
 as a widow — a name that is a draught from the Lord 
 upon every Christian heart — we might find it hard to 
 brook her light and worldly ways. She raileth, and 
 yet, I think, not with an evil mind, but rather igno- 
 rantly, at our most precious faith, and hath even ven- 
 tured to read aloud from her book of Common Prayer : 
 an offence that she hath been prevented from re-
 
 40 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 peating by the somewhat profane jest of our son Ev- 
 erell, whose love of mischief, proceeding from the 
 gay temper of youth, I trust you will overlook. It 
 was a few nights ago, when a storm was raging, 
 that th? poor lady's fears were greatly excited. My 
 womanish apprehensions had a hard struggle with 
 my duty, so terrific was the hideous howUng of the 
 wolves, mingling with the blasts that swept through 
 the forest; but I stilled my beating heart with the 
 thought that my children leaned on me, and I must 
 not betray my weakness. But Dame Grafton was 
 beside herself. At one moment she fancied we 
 should be the prey of the wild beast, and at the next, 
 that she heard the alarm yell of the savages. Ev- 
 erell brought her her prayer-book, and, affecting a 
 well-beseeming gravity, begged her to look out 
 the prayer for distressed women in imminent danger 
 of being scalped by North American Indians. The 
 poor lady, distracted with terror, seized the book, 
 and turned over leaf after leaf, Everell, meanwhile, 
 affecting to aid her search. In vain I shook my head 
 reprovingly at the boy ; in vain I assured Mistress 
 Grafton that I trusted we were in no danger; she 
 was beyond the influence of reason ; nothing allayed 
 her fears, till, chancing to catch a glance of EverelPs 
 eye, she detected the lurking laughter, and rapping 
 him soundly over the ears with her book, she left the 
 room greatly enraged. I grieve to add, that Ever- 
 ell evinced small sorrow for his levity, though I ad- 
 monished him thereupon. At the same time I thought 
 it a fit occasion to commend the sagacity whereby
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 41 
 
 he had detected the shortcomings of written pray- 
 ers, and to express my hope that, unpromising as 
 his beginnings are, he may prove a son of Jacob that 
 shall wrestle and prevail. 
 
 " I have something farther to say of Everell, who 
 is, in the main, a most devoted son, and, as I believe, 
 an apt scholar ; as his master telleth me that he 
 readeth Latin like his mother tongue, and is well 
 grounded in the Greek. The boy doth greatly af- 
 fect the company of the Pequod girl Magawisca. 
 If, in his studies, he meets with any trait of heroism 
 (and with such, truly, her mind doth seem naturally 
 to assimilate), he straightway calleth for her, and 
 rendereth it into English, in which she hath made 
 such marvellous progress that I am sometimes star- 
 tled with the beautiful forms in which she clothes 
 her simple thoughts. She, in her turn, doth take 
 much delight in describing to him the customs of her 
 people, and relating their traditionary tales, which 
 are, like pictures, captivating to a youthful imagina- 
 tion. He hath taught her to read, and reads to her 
 Spenser's rhymes, and many other books of the like 
 kind, of which, I am sorry to say, Dame Grafton 
 hath brought hither stores. I have not forbidden 
 him to read them, well knowing that the appetite of 
 youth is often whetted by denial, and fearing that 
 the boy might be tempted secretly to evade ray au- 
 thority ; and I would rather expose him to all the 
 mischief of this unprofitable lore, than to tempt him 
 to a deceit that might corrupt the sweet fountain of 
 truth — the well-spring of all that is good and noble. 
 D 2
 
 42 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " I have gone far from my subject. When my 
 boy comes before my mind's eye, I can see no other 
 object. But to return. I have not been unmindful 
 of my duty to the Indian girl, but have endeavoured 
 to instil into her mind the first principles of our re- 
 ligion, as contained in Mr. Cotton's Catechism and 
 elsewhere. But,_ala^Llo these her eye is shut and 
 her ear is closed, not only with that blindness and 
 f* 7 deafness common to the natural man, but she enter- 
 lameth an aversion, which has the fixedness of prin- 
 ciple, and doth continually remind me of Hannibal's 
 hatred to" Rome, and is, like that, inwrought with 
 her filial piety. I have in vain attempted to subdue 
 her to the drudgery of domestic service, and make 
 her take part with Jennet ; but as hopefully might 
 you yoke a deer with an ox. It is not that she lacks 
 obedience to me : so far as it seems she can com- 
 mand her duty, she is ever complying; but it ap- 
 peareth impossible to her to clip the wings of her 
 soaring thoughts, and keep them down to household 
 matters. 
 
 " I have sometimes marvelled at the providence 
 of God, in bestowing on this child of the forest such 
 rare gifts of mind, and other and outward beauties. 
 Her voice hath a natural, deep, and most sweet mel- 
 ody in it, far beyond any stringed instrument. She 
 hath, too (think not that I, like Everell, am, as 
 Jennet saith, a charmed bird to her) — she halh, 
 though yet a child in years, that in her mien that 
 doth bring to mind the lofty Judith and the gracious 
 Esther. When I once said this to Everell, he re-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 43 
 
 plied, ^ Oh, mother ! is she not more like the gentle 
 and tender Ruth V To him she may be, and there- 
 fore it is that, innocent and safe as the intercourse 
 of these children now is, it is for thee to decide 
 whether it be not most wise to remove the maiden 
 from our dwelling. Two young plants that have 
 sprung up in close neigbourhood may be separated 
 while young, but if disjoined after their fibres are all 
 intertwined, one, or perchance both, may perish. 
 
 " Think not that this anxiety springs from the mis- 
 taken fancy of a woman, that love is the natural 
 channel for all the purposes, thoughts, hopes, and 
 feelings of humanity. Neither think, I beseech thee, 
 that, doting with a foolish fondness upon my noble 
 boy, I magnify into importance whatsoever concern- 
 eth him. No : my heart yearneth towards this poor 
 heathen orphan-girl 3 and when I see her, in his ab- 
 sence, starting at every sound, and her restless eye 
 turning an asking glance at every opening of the door, 
 every movement betokening a disquieted spirit, and 
 then the sweet contentment that stealeth over her face 
 when he appeareth — oh, my honoured husband ! all 
 my woman's nature feeleth for her 5 not for any 
 present evil, but for what may betide. 
 
 " Having commended this subject to thy better wis- 
 dom, I will leave caring for it to speak to thee of 
 others of thy household. Your three little girls are 
 thriving mightily ; and as to the baby, you will not 
 be ashamed to own him, though you will not rec- 
 ognise, in the bouncing boy that plays bo-peep and 
 creeps quite over the room, the little creature who
 
 44 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 had scarcely opened his eyes on the world when you 
 went away. He is by far the largest child I ever 
 had, and the most knowing ; he has cut his front 
 upper teeth, and showeth signs of two more. He 
 is surprisingly fond of Oneco, and clappeth his hands 
 with joy whenever he sees him. Indeed, the boy is 
 a favourite with all the young ones, and greatly aid- 
 eth me by continually pleasuring them. Hejsjar 
 different from his sister — gay and volatile, giving 
 scarcely one thought to the past, and not one care 
 to the future. His sister often taketh him apart to 
 discourse with him, and sometimes doth produce a 
 cast of seriousness over his countenance ; but at the 
 next presented object, it vanisheth as speedily as a 
 shadow before a sunbeam. He hath commended 
 himself greatly to the favour of Dame Grafton by 
 his devotion to her little favourite : a spoiled child 
 is she, and it seemeth a pity that the name of Faith 
 was given to her, since her shrinking, timid charac- 
 ter doth not promise, in any manner, to resemble 
 that most potent of the Christian graces. Oneco 
 hath always some charm to lure her waywardness. 
 He bringeth home the treasures of the woods to 
 please her — berries, and wild flowers, and the beau- 
 tiful plumage of birds that are brought down by his 
 unerring aim. Everell hath much advantage from 
 the wood-craft of Oneco : the two boys daily enrich 
 our table, which, in truth, hath need of such helps, 
 with the spoils of the air and water. 
 
 " I am grieved to tell thee that some misrule hath 
 crept in among thy servants in thy absence. Alas,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 45 
 
 what are sheep without their shepherd ! Digby is, 
 as ever, faithful — not serving with eye-service ; but 
 Hutton hath consorted much with some evil-doers, 
 who have been violating the law of God and the law 
 of our land, by meeting together in merry compa- 
 nies, playing cards, dancing, and the like. For these 
 offences they were brought before Mr. Pynchon, and 
 sentenced to receive, each, ' twenty stripes well laid 
 on.' Hutton furthermore, having been overtaken 
 witii drink, was condemned to wear, suspended 
 around his neck, for one month, a bit of wood on 
 which Toper is legibly written ; and Darby, who is 
 ever a dawdler, having gone, last Saturday, with 
 the cart to the village, dilly-dallied about there, and 
 did not set out on his return till the sun was quite 
 down, both to the eye and by the calendar. Ac- 
 cordingly, early on the following Monday he was 
 summoned before Mr. Pynchon, and ordered to re- 
 ceive ten stripes ; but by reason of his youth and my 
 intercession, which, being by a private letter, doubt- 
 less had some effect, the punishment was remitted ; 
 whereupon he heartily promised amendment and a 
 better carriage. 
 
 " There hath been some alarm here within the 
 last few days, on account of certain Indians who 
 have been seen lurking in the woods around us. 
 They are reported not to have a friendly appearance. 
 We have been advised to remove, for the present, to 
 the Fort ; but, as I feel no apprehension, I shall not 
 disarrange my family by taking a step that would 
 savour more of fear than prudence. I say I feel no
 
 46 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 apprehension ; yet I must confess it, I have a cow- 
 ardly, womanish spirit, and fear is set in motion by 
 the very mention of danger. There are vague fore- 
 bodings hanging about me, and I cannot drive them 
 away even by the thought that your presence, my 
 honoured husband, will soon reheve me from all agi- 
 tating apprehensions, and repair all the faults of my 
 poor judgment. Fearful thoughts press on me ; un- 
 toward accidents have prolonged thy absence ; our 
 reunion may yet be far distant; and if it should 
 never chance in this world, oh remember, that if I 
 have fallen far short in duty, the measure of my 
 love hath been full. I have ever known that mine 
 was Leah's portion ; that Twas not the chosen and 
 the loved one ; and this has sometimes made me fear- 
 ful, often joyless ; but remember, it is only the per- 
 fect love^qf the husband that casteth out the fear of 
 the wife. 
 
 . " I have one request to prefer to thee, which I have 
 lacked courage to make by word of mouth, and 
 therefore now commend it by letter to thy kindness. 
 Be gracious unto me, my dear husband, and deem 
 not that I overstep the modest bound of .a woman's 
 right in meddling with that which is thy prerogative 
 — the ordering of our eldest son's education. Everell 
 here hath few except spiritual privileges. God, who 
 seeth my heart, knoweth I do not undervalue these 
 — 'the manna of the wilderness. Yet to them might 
 be added worldly helps, to aid the growth of the 
 boy's noble gifts, a kind Providence having opened 
 a wide door therefor in the generous offer of my
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 47 
 
 brother Stretton. True, he hath not attained to our 
 light, whereby manifold errors of Church and State 
 are made visible, yet he hath ever borne himself 
 uprightly, and to us most lovingly ; and as I remem- 
 ber there was a good Samaritan and a faithful cen- 
 turion, I think we are permitted to enlarge the 
 bounds of our charity to those who work righteous- 
 ness, albeit not of our communion. 
 
 " Thou hast already sown the good seed in our 
 boy's heart, and it hath been (I say it not presuming- 
 ly) nurtured with a mother's tears and prayers. Trust, 
 then, to the promised blessing, and fear not to per- 
 mit him to pass a few years in England, whence he 
 wdll return to be a crown of glory to thee, my hus- 
 band, and a blessing and honour to our chosen coun- 
 try. Importunity, I know, is not beseeming in a 
 wife 'j it is the instrument of weakness, whereby, like 
 the mouse in the fable, she would gnaw away what 
 she cannot break. I will not, therefore, urge thee 
 farther, but leave the decision to thy wisdom and thy 
 love. And now, my dear husband, I kiss and em- 
 brace thee J and may God company with thee, and 
 restore thee, if it be his good pleasure, to thy ever 
 faithful, and loving, and obedient wife, 
 
 " Martha Fletcher. 
 
 " To her honoured husband these be delivered." 
 
 The above letter may indicate, but it feebly ex- 
 presses, the character and state of mind of the wri- 
 ter. She never magnified her love by words, but 
 expressed it by that self-devoting, self-sacrificing con-
 
 48 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 duct to her husband and children, which character- 
 izes, in all ages and circumstances, faithful and de- 
 voted woman. She was too generous to communi- 
 cate all her fears (about which a woman is general- 
 ly least reserved) to her husband. 
 
 Some occurrences of the preceding day had given 
 her just' cause of alarm. At a short distance from 
 Bethel (the name that Mr. Fletcher had given his 
 residence) there lived an old Indian woman, one of 
 the few survivers of a tribe who had been faithful 
 allies of the Pequods. After the destruction of her 
 people, she had strayed up the banks of the Con- 
 necticut, and remained in Springfield. She was in 
 the habit of supplying Mrs. Fletcher with wild ber- 
 ries and herbs, and receiving favours in return, and 
 on that day went thither, as it appeared, on her cus- 
 tomary errand. She had made her usual barter, and 
 had drawn her blanket around her as if to depart, 
 but still she lingered, standing before Mrs. Fletcher, 
 and looking fixedly at her. Mrs. Fletcher did not 
 at first observe her ; her head was bent over her in- 
 fant sleeping on her lap, in the attitude of listening 
 to its soft breathing. As she perused its innocent 
 face, a mother's beautiful visions floated before her ; 
 but as she raised her eye, and met the piercing glance 
 of the old woman, a dark cloud came over the clear 
 heaven of her thoughts. Nelema's brow was con- 
 tracted, her lips drawn in, and her little sunken eye 
 gleamed like a diamond from its dark recess. 
 
 " Why do you look at my baby thus ?" asked 
 Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 \
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 49 
 
 The old woman replied in her own dialect, in a 
 hurried, inarticulate manner. " What says she, 
 Magawisca V asked Mrs. Fletcher of the Indian girl, 
 who stood beside her, and seemed to listen with un- 
 wonted interest. 
 
 " She says, madam, the baby is like a flower just 
 opened to the sun, with no stain upon it ', th^t he 
 better pass now to the Great Spirit. She says this 
 world is all a rough place — all sharp stones, and deep 
 waters, and black clouds !" 
 
 " Oh, she is old, IMagawisca, and the days haA'e 
 come to her that have no pleasure in them. Look 
 there," she said, " Nelema, at my son Everell !" — the 
 boy was at the moment passing the window, flushed 
 with exercise, and triumphantly displaying a string 
 of game that he had just brought from the forest — 
 " is there not sunshine in my boy's face ? To him 
 every day is bright, and every path is smooth." 
 
 " Ah !" replied the old woman, with a heavy 
 groan, " I had sons too, and grandsons ; but where 
 are they ? They trod the earth as lightly as that 
 boy ; but they have fallen, like our forest trees, be- 
 fore the stroke of the English axe. Of all my race, 
 there is not one nov\^ in whose veins my blood runs. 
 Sometimes, when the spirits of the storm are howl- 
 ing about my v/igwam, I hear the voices of my chil- 
 dren crying for vengeance, and then I could myself 
 deal the death-blow." Nelema spoke with vehe- 
 mence and wild gestures ; and her language, though 
 interpreted by Magawisca's soft voice, had little ten- 
 dency to allay the feeling her manner inspired. Mrs. 
 
 Vol. L— E
 
 50 KOPE LESLIE* 
 
 Fletcher recoiled from her, and instinctively drew 
 her baby closer to her breast. 
 
 « Nay," said the old woman, " fear me not ; I have 
 had kindness from thee ; thy blankets have warmed 
 me, I have been fed from thy table, and drank of 
 thy cup ; and what is this arm," and she threw back 
 her Wanket, and stretched out her naked, shrivelled, 
 trembling arm, " what is this to do the work of ven- 
 geance 1" 
 
 She paused for an mstant, glanced her eye wildly 
 around the room, and then again fixed it on Mrs. 
 Fletcher and her infant. " They spared not our 
 homes," she said ; " there, where our old men spoke, 
 where was heard the song of the maiden and the 
 laugh of our children, there now all is silence, dust, 
 and ashes. I can neither harm thee nor help thee. 
 When the stream of vengeance rolls over the land, 
 the tender shoot must be broken, and the goodly tree 
 uprooted that gave its pleasant shade and fruits to 
 all." 
 
 " It is a shame and a sin," said Jennet, who en- 
 tered the room just as Magawisca was conveying 
 Nelema's speech to Mrs. Fletcher, " a crying shame, 
 for this heathen hag to be pouring forth here as if 
 she were gifted like the prophets of old — she that 
 can only see into the future by reading the devil's 
 book ; and, if that be the case, as more than one has 
 mistrusted, it were best forthwith to deliver her to 
 the judges, and cast her into prison." 
 
 " Peace, Jennet," said Mrs. Fletcher, alarmed less 
 Nelema should hear her, and her feelings, which
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 61 
 
 were then at an exalted pitch, should be wrought to 
 phrensy; but her apprehensions were groundless; the 
 old woman saw nothing but the visions of her ima- 
 gination ; heard nothing but the fancied voices of the 
 spirits of her race. She continued for a few moments 
 to utter her thoughts in low, articulate murmurs, 
 and then, without again addressing Mrs. Fletcher, 
 or raising her eyes, she left the house. 
 
 A few moments after her departure, Mrs. Fletcher 
 perceived that she had dropped at her feet a little 
 roll, which she found, on examination, to be an ar- 
 row, and the rattle of a rattlesnake, enveloped in a 
 skin of the same reptile. She knew it was the cus- 
 tom of the savages to express much meaning by 
 these symbols, and she turned to demand an expla- 
 nation of Magawisca, who was deeply skilled in all 
 the ways of her people. 
 
 Magawisca had disappeared; and Jennet, who 
 had ever looked on the poor girl with a jealous and 
 an evil eye, took this occasion to give vent to her 
 feelings. " It is a pity," she said, " the child is out 
 of the way the first time she was like to do a ser- 
 vice ; she may be skilled in snake's rattles and 
 bloody arrows, for I make no doubt she is as used 
 to them as I am to my broom and scrubbing- 
 cloth." 
 
 "Will you call Magawisca to me?" said Mrs. 
 Fletcher, in a voice that from her would have been 
 a silencing reproof to a more sensitive ear than Jen- 
 net's ; but she, no ways daunted, replied, " Ah ! that 
 will I, madam, if I can find her ; but where to look
 
 52 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 for her no mere mortal can tell ; for she does not stay 
 longer on a perch than a butterfly, unless, indeed, it 
 be when she is working on Mr. EverelPs moccasins, 
 or filling his ears with wild fables about those ram- 
 paging Indians. Ah, there she is !" she exclaimed, 
 looking through the window, " talking with Nelema, 
 just a little way into the wood; there, I see their 
 heads above those scrub-oaks ; see their wild mo- 
 tions ; see, Magawisca starts homeward — now the 
 old woman pulls her back — now she seems entreat- 
 ing Nelema ; the old hag shakes her head — Maga- 
 wisca covers her eyes : what can all this mean 1 no 
 good, I am sure. The girl is ever going to Nele- 
 ma's hut, and of moonlight nights too, when they say 
 witches work their will : birds of a feather flock to- 
 gether. Well, I knov7 one thing, that if Master Ev- 
 erell was mine, I would sooner, in faith, cast him into 
 the lion's den or the fiery furnace, than leave him to 
 this crafty offspring of a race that are the children 
 and heirs of the Evil One." 
 
 " Jennet," said Mrs. Fletcher, " thy tongue far 
 outruns thy discretion. Restrain thy foolish thoughts, 
 and bid Magawisca come to me." 
 
 Jennet sullenly obeyed, and soon after Magawisca 
 entered. Mrs. Fletcher was struck with her changed 
 aspect. She turned away, as one conscious of pos- 
 sessing a secret, and fearful that the eye will speak 
 unbidden. Her air was troubled and anxious, and 
 instead of her usual light and lofty step, she moved 
 timidly and dejectedly. 
 
 " Come to me, Magawisca," said Mrs. Fletcher,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 53 
 
 "and deal truly by me, as I have ever dealt by 
 thee." 
 
 She obeyed, and as she stood by Mrs. Fletcher, the 
 poor girl's tears dropped on her benefactor's lap. 
 ^' Thou hast been more than true," she said ; " thou 
 hast been kind to me as the mother-bird that shel- 
 ters the wanderer in her nest." 
 
 " Then, Magawisca, if it concerneth me to know 
 it, thou wilt explain the meaning of this roll which 
 Nelema dropped at my feet." 
 
 The girl started and became very pale : to an ob- 
 serving eye, the changes of the olive skin are as ap- 
 parent as those of a fairer complexion. She took 
 the roll from Mrs. Fletcher, and shut her eyes fast. 
 Her bosom heaved convulsively ; but, after a short 
 struggle with conflicting feelings, she said deliber- 
 ately, in a low voice, " That which I may speak 
 without bringing down on me the curse of my fa- 
 ther's race, I will speak. This," she added, un- 
 folding the snake's skin, " this betokeneth the unseen 
 and silent approach of an enemy. This, you know," 
 and she held up the rattle, " is the warning voice 
 that speaketh of danger near. And this," she con- 
 cluded, taking the arrov7 in her trembling hand, 
 " this is the symbol of death." 
 
 " And wh}^ Magawisca, are these fearful tokens 
 given to me ? Dost thou know, girl, aught of a 
 threatening enemy — of an ambushed foe ?" 
 
 " I have said all that I may say," she replied. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher questioned farther, but could obtain 
 no satisfaction. Magawisca's lips were sealed ; and 
 E2
 
 54 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 it was certain that, if her resohition did not yield to 
 the entreaties of her own heart, it would resist every 
 other influence. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher summoned Everell, and bade him 
 urge Magawisca to disclose whatever Nelema had 
 communicated. He did so, but sportively, for he 
 said " the old woman was cracked, and Magawisca's 
 head was turned. If there were indeed danger," 
 he continued, " and Magawisca was apprized of it, 
 think you, mother, she would permit us to remain in 
 ignorance?" He turned an appealing glance to 
 Magawisca, but her face was averted. Without 
 suspecting this was intentional, he continued, " You 
 ought to do penance, Magawisca, for the alarm you 
 have given mother. You and I will act as her pa- 
 trol to-night." 
 
 Magawisca assented, and appeared relieved by 
 the proposition, though her gloom was not lighten- 
 ed by Everell's gayety. Mrs. Fletcher did not, of 
 course, acquiesce in this arrangement, but she deem- 
 ed it prudent to communicate her apprehensions to 
 her trusty Digby. After a short consultation, it was 
 agreed that Digby should remain on guard during 
 the night, and that the two other men-servants should 
 have their muskets in order, and be ready at a mo- 
 ment's warning. Such precautions were not unfre- 
 quent, and caused no unusual excitement in the 
 household. Mrs. Fletcher had it, as she expressed 
 herself, " borne in upon her mind, after the evening 
 exercise, to make some remarks upon the uncertainty 
 of life." She then dismissed the family to their sev-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 55 
 
 eral apartments, and herself retired to endite the 
 epistle given above. 
 
 Everell observed Magawisca closely through the 
 evening, and he was convinced, from the abstraction 
 of her manner, and from the efforts she made (which 
 were now apparent to him) to maintain a calm de- 
 meanour, that there was more ground for his moth- 
 er's apprehensions than he at first supposed. He de- 
 termined to be the companion of Digby's watch; and, 
 standing high in that good fellow's confidence, he 
 made a private arrangement with him, which he 
 easily effected without his mother's knowledge; for 
 his youthful zeal did not render hira regardless of 
 the impropriety of heightening her fears.
 
 66 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 •' It would have been happy if they had converted some before they 
 had killed any." — Robinson. 
 
 The house at Bethel had, both in front and in rear, 
 a portico, or, as it was more humbly, and therefore 
 more appropriately named, a shed ; that in the rear 
 was a sort of adjunct to the kitchen, and one end of 
 it was enclosed for the purpose of a bedroom, and 
 occupied by Magawisca. Everell found Digby sit- 
 ting at the other extremity of this portico ; his posi- 
 tion was prudently chosen. The moon was high 
 and the heavens clear, and there, concealed and 
 sheltered by the shadow of the roof, he could, with- 
 out being seen, command the whole extent of clear- 
 ed ground that bordered on the forest, whence the 
 foe would come, if he came at all. 
 
 Everell, like a good knight, had carefully inspect- 
 ed his arms, and just taken his position beside Digby, 
 when they heard Magawisca's window cautiously 
 opened, and saw her spring through it. Everell 
 w^ould have spoken to her, but Digby made a sig- 
 nal of silence ; and she, without observing them, 
 hastened with a quick and light step tow^ards the 
 wood, and entered it, taking the path that led to 
 Nelema's hut. 
 
 " Confound her !" exclaimed Digby, " she is in 
 a plot with the old w^oman."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 57 
 
 " No, no. On ray life she is not, Digby." 
 
 " Some raischief — some mischief," said Digby, sha- 
 king his head. " They are a treacherous race. Let's 
 follow her. No, we had best keep clear of the wood. 
 Do you call after her ; she will hearken to you." 
 
 Everell hesitated. " Speak quickly, Mr. Everell," 
 urged Digby ; " she will be beyond the reach of your 
 voice. It is no light matter that could take her to 
 Nelema's hut at this time of the ni^ht." 
 
 " She has good reason for going, Digby. I am 
 sure of it; and I will not call her back." 
 
 "Reason," muttered Digby; "reason is but a 
 jack-o'-lantern light in most people's minds. You 
 trust her too far, Mr. Everell ; but there, she is re- 
 turning ! See how she looks all around her, like a 
 frightened bird that hears an enemy in every rust- 
 ling leaf. Stand close; observe her; see, she lays 
 her ear to the earth — it is their crafty way of listen- 
 ing ; there, she is gone again !" he exclaimed, as 
 Magawisca darted away into the wood. " It is past 
 doubt she holds communication with some one. God 
 send us a safe deliverance. I had rather meet a le- 
 gion of Frenchmen than a company of these sava- 
 ges. They are a kind of beast we don't comprehend 
 — out of the range of God's creatures — neither an- 
 gel, man, nor yet quite devil. I would have sent 
 to the fort for a guard to-night, but I liked not being 
 driven hither and yon by that old hag's tokens, nor 
 yet quite to take counsel from your good mother's 
 fears, she being but a woman." 
 
 " I thmk you have caught the fear, Digby, without
 
 58 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 taking its counsel," said Everell, " which does little 
 credit to your wisdom; the only use of fear being 
 to provide against danger." 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Everell; but don't think I am 
 afraid. It is one thing to know what danger is, and 
 wish to shun it, and another thing to feel like you 
 fear-naught lads, that have never felt a twinge of 
 pain, and have scarce a sense of your own mortality. 
 You would be the boldest at an attack, Mr. Everell, 
 and I should stand a siege best. A boy's courage 
 is a keen weapon that wants temper." 
 
 " Apt to break at the first stroke from the enemy, 
 you mean, Digby ?" Bigby nodded assent. " Well, 
 I should like, at any rate, to prove it," added Ev- 
 erell. 
 
 " Time enough this half dozen years yet, my young 
 master. I should be loath to see that fair skin of 
 thine stained with blood ; and, besides, you have yet 
 to get a little more worldly prudence than to trust 
 a young Indian girl just because she takes your 
 fancy." 
 
 " And w^hy does she take my fancy, Bigby ? be- 
 cause she is true and noble-minded. I am certain, 
 that if she knows of any danger approaching us, 
 she is seeking to avert it.' 
 
 " I don't know that, Mr. Everell ; she'll be first 
 true to her own people. The old proverb holds fast 
 with these savages, as well as with the rest of the 
 world : ' hawks won't pick out hawks' eyes.' Like 
 to like, throughout all nature. I grant you, she hath 
 truly a fair seeming,"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 69 
 
 " And all that's foul is our own suspicion, is it not, 
 Digby 7" 
 
 " Not exactly ; there's plainly some mystery be- 
 tween Magawisca and the old woman: and we 
 know these Pequods were famed above all the In- 
 dian tribes for their cunning." 
 
 " And what is superior cunning among savages 
 but superior sense ?" 
 
 "You may out-talk me, Mr. Everell," replied 
 Digby, with the impatience that a man feels when 
 he is sure he is right, without being able to make it 
 appear. " You may out-talk me, but you will never 
 convince me. Was not I in the Pequod war ? I 
 ought to know, I think." 
 
 "Yes, and I think you have told me they showed 
 more resolution than cunning there ; in particular, 
 that the brother of Magawisca, whom she so pit- 
 eously bemoans to this day, fought like a young lion." 
 
 " Yes, he did, poor dog ! and he was afterward 
 cruelly cut off: and it is this that makes me think 
 they will take some terrible revenge for his death. 
 I often hear Magawisca talking to Oneco of her 
 brother, and I think it is to stir his spirit ; but this 
 boy is no more like to him than a spaniel to a blood- 
 hound." 
 
 Nothing Digby said had any tendency to weaken 
 EverelPs confidence in Magawisca. 
 
 The subject of the Pequod war once started, Digby 
 and Everell were in no danger of sleeping at their 
 post. Digby loved, as well as another man, and 
 particularly those who have had brief military ex-
 
 60 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 perience, to fight his battles o'er again ; and Everell 
 was at an age to listen with delight to tales of ad- 
 venture and danger. They thus wore away the time 
 till the imaginations of both relater and listener were 
 at that pitch when every shadow is imbodied, and 
 every passing sound bears a voice to the quickened 
 sense. 
 
 " Hark !" said Digby ; " did you not hear foot- 
 steps ?" 
 
 " I hear them now," rephed Everell ; " they seem 
 not very near. Is it not Magawisca returning V^ 
 
 " No, there is more than one ; and it is the heavy, 
 though cautious, tread of men. Ha ! Argus scents 
 them." The old house-dog now sprang from his 
 rest on a mat at the door-stone, and gave one of 
 those loud, inquiring barks, by which this animal first 
 hails the approach of a strange footstep. " Hush, 
 Argus, hush !" cried Everell ; and the dog, having 
 obeyed his instinct, seemed satisfied to submit to his 
 master's voice, and crept lazily back to his place of 
 repose. 
 
 " You have hushed Argus, and the footsteps too," 
 said Digby -, " but it is well, perhaps, if there really 
 is an enemy near, that he should know we are on 
 guard." 
 
 *• If there really is, Digby !" said Everell, who, ter- 
 rific as the apprehended danger v/as, felt the irre- 
 pressible thirst of youth of adventure ; " do you think 
 we could both have been deceived ?' 
 
 "Nothing easier, Mr. Everell, than to deceive 
 senses on the watch for alarm. We heard some-
 
 Mope Leslie. 61 
 
 thing, but it might have been the wolves that even 
 now prowl about the very clearing here at night. 
 Ha !" he exclaimed, " there they are ;" and, starting 
 forward, he levelled his musket towards the wood. 
 
 " You are mad," said Everell, striking down Dig- 
 by's musket with the butt end of his own. " It is 
 Magawisca." Magawisca at that moment emerged 
 from the wood. 
 
 Digby appeared confounded. " Could I have been 
 so deceived?" he said; "could it have been her 
 shadow 1 I thought I saw an Indian beyond that 
 birch-tree ; you see the white bark ? well, just be- 
 yond in the shade. It could not have been Maga- 
 wisca, nor her shadow, for you see there are trees 
 between the footpath and that place ; and yet how 
 should he have vanished without motion or sound 1" 
 
 " Our senses deceive us, Digby," said Everell, re- 
 ciprocating Digby's own argument. 
 
 " In this tormenting moonlight they do ; but my 
 senses have been well schooled in their time, and 
 should have learned to know a man from a woman, 
 and a shadow from a substance." 
 
 Digby had not a very strong conviction of the ac- 
 tual presence of an enemy, as v\"as evident from his 
 giving no alarm to his auxiliaries in the house; and 
 he believed that if there were hostile Indians prowl- 
 ing about them, they v/ere few in number ; still he 
 deemed it prudent to persevere in their precaution- 
 ary measures. " I will remain here," he said, " Mr. 
 Everell, and do you follow Magawisca ; sift what 
 you can from her. Depend on't, there's something 
 
 Vol L— F
 
 62 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 wrong. Why should she have turned away on see- 
 ing us ? and did you not observe her hide something 
 beneath her mantle ?" 
 
 Everell acceded to Digby's proposition, not with 
 the expectation of confirming his suspicions, but in 
 the hope that Magawisca would show they were 
 groundless. He followed her to the front of the 
 house, to which she seemed involuntarily to have bent 
 her steps on perceiving him. 
 
 " You have taken the most difficult part of our du- 
 ty on yourself, Magawisca," he said, on coming up 
 to her. " You have acted as vidette, while I have 
 been quiet at my post." 
 
 Perhaps Magawisca did not understand him ; at 
 any rate, she made no reply. 
 
 " Have you met an enemy in your reconnoitring ? 
 Digby and I fancied that we both heard and saw the 
 foe." 
 
 " When and where 1" exclaimed Magawisca, in 
 a hurried, alarmed tone. 
 
 " Not many minutes since, and just at the very 
 edge of the wood." 
 
 " What ! when Digby raised his gun ? I thought 
 that had been in sport, to startle me." 
 
 " No, Magawisca ; sporting does not suit our 
 present case. My mother and her little ones are in 
 peril, and Digby is a faithful servant." 
 
 " Faithful !" echoed Magawisca, as if there w^ere 
 more in Everell's expression than met the ear ; " he 
 surely may w^alk straight w^ho hath nothing to draw 
 him aside. Digby hath but one path, and that is
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 63 
 
 plain before him ; but one voice from his heart, and 
 Avhy should he not obey it ]" The girl's voice fal- 
 tered as she spoke, and as she concluded she burst 
 into tears. Everell had never before witnessed this 
 expression of feeling from her. She had an habitual 
 self-command, that hid the emotions of her heart from 
 common observers, and veiled them even from those 
 who most narrowly watched her. Everell's confi- 
 dence in Magawisca had not been in the least de- 
 gree weakened by all the appearances against her. 
 He did not mean to imply suspicion by his commen- 
 dation of Digby, but merely to throw out a leading 
 observation, which she might follow if she would. 
 
 He felt reproached and touched by her distress ; 
 but, struck by the clew which, as he thought, her lan- 
 guage afforded to the mystery of her conduct, and 
 confident that she would in no way aid or abet any 
 mischief that her own people might be contriving 
 against them, he followed the natural bent of his 
 generous temper, and assured her, again and again, 
 of his entire trust in her. This seemed rather to ag- 
 gravate than abate her distress. She threw herself 
 on the ground, drew her mantle over her face, and 
 w^ept convulsively. He found he could not allay the 
 storm he had raised, and he seated himself beside 
 her. After a little while, either exhausted by the 
 violence of her emotion, or comforted by Everell's 
 silent sympathy, she became composed, and raised 
 her face from her mantle, and as she did so, some- 
 thing fell from beneath its folds. She hastily recov- 
 ered and replaced it, but not till Everell had perceiv-
 
 64 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ed it was an eagle's feather. He knew this was 
 the badge of her tribe, and he had heard her say 
 that " a tuft from the wing of the monarch bird was 
 her father's crest." A suspicion flashed through his 
 mind, and was conveyed to Magawisca's by one 
 bright glance of inquiry. She said nothing, but her 
 responding look was rather sorrowful than confused ; 
 and Everell, anxious to believe what he wished to 
 be true, came, after a little consideration, to the con- 
 clusion that the feather had been dropped in her 
 path by a passing bird. He did not scrutinize her 
 motive in concealing it ; he could not think her ca- 
 pable of evil ; and, anxious to efface from her mind 
 the distrust his countenance might have expressed, 
 " This beautiful moon and her train of stars," he said, 
 " look as if they were keeping their watch over our 
 dwelling. There are those, Magawisca, who believe 
 the stars have a mysterious influence on human des- 
 tiny. I know nothing of the grounds of their faith, 
 and my imagination is none of the brightest; but I can 
 almost fancy they are stationed there as guardian an- 
 gels, and I feel quite sure that nothing evil can walk 
 abroad in their light." 
 
 " They do look peaceful," she replied, mournfully ; 
 " but ah ! Everell, man is ever breaking the peace 
 of nature. It was such a night as this, so bright 
 and still, when your English came upon our quiet 
 homes." 
 
 "You have never spoken to me of that night, 
 Magawisca." 
 
 " No, Everell, for our hands have taken hold of
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 65 
 
 the chain of friendship, and I feared to break it by 
 speaking of the wrongs your people did to mine." 
 
 " You need not fear it ; I can honour noble deeds, 
 though done by our enemies, and see that cruelty is 
 cruelty, though inflicted by our friends." 
 
 " Then listen to me ; and when the hour of ven- 
 geance comes, if it should come, remember it was 
 provoked." 
 
 She paused for a few moments, sighed deeply, and 
 then began the recital of the last acts in the tragedy 
 of her people, the principal circumstances of which 
 are detailed in the chronicles of the times by the 
 witnesses of the bloody scenes. " You know," she 
 said, " our fortress-homes were on the level summit 
 of a hill : thence we could see, as far as the eye 
 could stretch, our hunting-grounds and our gardens, 
 which lay beneath us on the borders of a stream 
 that glided around our hill, and so near to it that in 
 the still nights we could hear its gentle voice. Our 
 fort and wigwams were encompassed with a pali- 
 sade, formed of young trees, and branches interwo- 
 ven and sharply pointed. No enemy's foot had ever 
 approached this nest, which the eagles of the tribe 
 had built for their mates and their young. Sassacus 
 and my father were both away on that dreadful 
 night. They had called a council of our chiefs and 
 old men ; our young men had been out in their ca- 
 noes, and when they returned they had danced and 
 feasted, and were now in deep sleep. My mother 
 was in her hut with her children — not sleeping, for 
 my brother Samoset had lingered behind his com- 
 F2
 
 66 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 panions, and had not yet returned from the water- 
 sport. The warning spirit, that ever keeps its sta- 
 tion at a mother's pillow, whispered that some evil 
 Avas near ; and my mother, bidding me lie still with 
 the little ones, went forth in quest of my brother. 
 All the servants of the Great Spirit spoke to my 
 mother's ear and eye of danger and death. The 
 moon, as she sunk behind the hills, appeared a ball 
 of fire; strange lights darted through the air; to 
 my mother's eye they seemed fiery arrows; to her 
 ear the air was filled with death-sighs. 
 
 " She had passed the palisade, and was descend- 
 ing the hill, when she met old Cushmakin. 'Do 
 yOu know aught of my boy V she asked. 
 
 " ' Your boy is safe, and sleeps with his compan- 
 ions ; he returned by the Sassafras knoll ; that way 
 can only be trodden by the strong- limbed and light- 
 footed.' 
 
 " ' My boy is safe,' said my mother ; ' then tell 
 me, for thou art wise, and canst see quite through 
 the dark future, tell me, what evil is coming to our 
 tribe V She then described the omens she had seen. 
 ' I know not,' said Cushmakin : ' of late darkness 
 hath spread over my soul, and all is black there, as 
 before these eyes, that the arrows of death have 
 pierced ; but tell me, Monoco, what see you now in 
 the fields of heaven ?" 
 
 " ' Oh, now,' said my mother, * I see nothing but 
 the blue depths and the watching stars. The spir- 
 its of the air have ceased their moaning, and steal 
 over my cheek like an infant's breath. The water-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 67 
 
 spirits are rising, and will soon spread their soft 
 wings around the nest of our tribe.' 
 
 " * The boy sleeps safely,' muttered the old man, 
 * and I have listened to the idle fear of a doting mo- 
 ther.' 
 
 " ' I come not of a fearful race,' said my mother, 
 
 " ' Nay, that I did not mean,' replied Cushmakin ; 
 'but the panther watching her young is fearful as 
 a doe.' The night was far spent, and my mother 
 bade him go home with her, for our powwows* have 
 ever a mat in the wigwam of their chief. ' Nay,' he 
 said, ' the day is near, and I am always abroad at the 
 rising of the sun.' It seemed that the first warm 
 touch of the sun opened the eye of the old man's 
 soul, and he saw again the flushed hills and the 
 shaded valleys, the sparkling Vv^aters, the green 
 maize, and the gray old rocks of our home. They 
 were just passing the little gate of the palisade, when 
 the old man's dog sprang from him with a fearful 
 bark. A rushing sound was heard. 'Owanox! 
 Owanox !' (the English I the English !) cried Cush- 
 makin. My mother joined her voice to his, and in 
 an instant the cry of alarm spread through the wig- 
 wams. The enemy were indeed upon us. They had 
 surrounded the palisade, and opened their fire." 
 
 " Was it so sudden 1 Did they so rush on sleep- 
 ing women and children 1" asked Everell, who was 
 unconsciously lending all his interest to the party of 
 the narrator. 
 
 " Even so ; they were guided to us by the traitor 
 
 * See note at the end of the second volume.
 
 68 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Wequash ; he from whose bloody hand my mother 
 had shielded the captive English maidens ; he who 
 had eaten from my father's dish, and slept on his 
 mat. They were flanked by the cowardly Narra- 
 gansetts, who shrunk from the sight of our tribe; 
 who were pale as Avhite men at the thought of Sas- 
 sacus ; and so feared him, that when his name was 
 spoken they were like an unstrung bow, and they 
 said, ' He is all one God : no man can kill him.' 
 These cowardly allies waited for the prey they dared 
 not attack." 
 
 " Then," said Everell, " as I have heard, our peo- 
 ple had all the honour of the fight." 
 
 " Honour ! was it, Everell ? ye shall hear. Our 
 warriors rushed forth to meet the foe ; they surround- 
 ed the huts of their mothers, wives, sisters, children ; 
 they fought as if each man had a hundred lives, and 
 w^ould give each and all to redeem their homes. 
 Oh ! the dreadful fray even now rings in my ears ! 
 Those fearful guns that we had never heard before — 
 the shouts of your people — our own battle yell — the 
 piteous cries of the little children — the groans of our 
 mothers ; and oh ! worse, worse than all, the silence 
 of those that could not speak. The English fell 
 back ; they were driven to the palisade, some beyond 
 it, when their leader gave the cry to fire our huts, 
 and led the way to my mother's. Samoset, the no- 
 ble boy, defended the entrance like a stag at bay 
 till they struck him down ; prostrate and bleeding, 
 he again bent his bow, and had taken deadly aim at 
 the English leader, when a sabre-blow severed his
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 69 
 
 bowstring. Then was taken from our hearth-stone, 
 where the English had been so often warmed and 
 cherished, the brand to consume our dwellings. 
 They were covered with mats, and burned like dried 
 straw. The enemy retreated without the palisade. 
 In vain did our warriors fight for a path in which we 
 might escape from the consuming fire ; they were 
 beaten back ; the fire gained on us ; the Narragan- 
 setts pressed on the English, howling like wolves for 
 their prey. Some of our people threw themselves 
 into the midst of the crackling flam.es, and their cour- 
 ageous souls parted with one shout of triumph ; oth- 
 ers mounted the palisade, but they were shot, and 
 dropped like a flock of birds smitten by the hunter's 
 arrows. Thus did the strangers destroy, in our own 
 hom.es, hundreds of our tribe." 
 
 " And how did you escape in that dreadful hour, 
 Magavv'isca ? you were not, then, taken prisoners ?' 
 
 "No; there was a rock at one extremity of our 
 hut, and beneath it a cavity into which my mother 
 crept, w^ith Oneco, myself, and the two little ones 
 that afterward perished. Our simple habitations 
 were soon consumed ; we heard the foe retiring, and 
 when the last sound had died av/ay, we came forth 
 to a sight that made us lament to be among the liv- 
 ing. The sun was scarce an hour from his rising, 
 and yet in this brief space our homes had vanished. 
 The bodies of our people were strewn about the 
 smouldering ruin, and all around the palisade lay 
 the strong and valiant warriors, cold, silent, power- 
 less as the unformed clay."
 
 70 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Magawisca paused ; she was overcome with the 
 recollection of this scene of desolation. She looked 
 upward with an intent gaze, as if she held commu- 
 nion with an invisible being. " Spirit of my mother !" 
 burst from her lips ; " oh ! that I could follow thee 
 to that blessed land, where I should no more dread 
 the war-cry nor the death-knife." Everell dashed 
 the gathering tears from his eyes, and Magawisca 
 proceeded in her narrative. 
 
 *' While we all stood silent and motionless, we 
 heard footsteps and cheerful voices. They came 
 from my father and Sassacus, and their band, re- 
 turning from the friendly council. They approached 
 on the side of the hill that was covered with a thick- 
 et of oaks, and their ruined homes at once burst upon 
 their view. Oh ! what horrid sounds then pealed on 
 the air ! shouts of wailing, and cries for vengeance. 
 Every eye was turned with suspicion and hatred on 
 my father. He had been the friend of the English ; 
 he had counselled peace and alliance with them ; he 
 had protected their traders; delivered the captives 
 taken from them, and restored them to their people : 
 now his wife and children alone were living, and 
 they called him traitor. I heard an angry murmur, 
 and many hands were lifted to strike the death- 
 blow. He moved not : ' Nay, nay,' cried Sassacus, 
 beating them off, ' touch him not ; his soul is bright 
 as the sun ; sooner shall you darken that than find 
 treason in his breast. If he hath shown the dove's 
 heart to the English when he believed them friends, 
 he will show himself the fierce eagle now he knows
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 71 
 
 them enemies. Touch him not, warriors , remember 
 my blood rmineth in his veins.' 
 
 "From that moment my father was a changed 
 man. He neither spoke nor looked at his wife or 
 children; but, placing himself at the head of one 
 band of the young men, he shouted his w^ar-cry, and 
 then silently pursued the enemy. Sassacus went 
 forth to assemble the tribe, and we followed my 
 mother to one of our villages." 
 
 " You did not tell me, Magawisca," said Everell, 
 " how Samoset perished : was he consumed in the 
 flames, or shot from the palisade V 
 
 *• Neither^ — neither. He w^as reserved to whet 
 my father's revenge to a still keener edge. He had 
 forced a passage through the English, and, hastily 
 collecting a few warriors, they pursued the enemy, 
 sprung upon them from a covert, and did so annoy 
 them that the English turned and gave them battle. 
 All fled save my brother, and him they took prison- 
 er. They told him they would spare his life if he 
 "w^ould guide them to our strongholds; he refused. 
 He had, Everell, lived but sixteen summers; he 
 loved the light of the sun even as we love it; his 
 manly spirit was tamed by wounds and weariness; 
 his limbs were like a bending reed, and his heart 
 beat like a woman's ; but the fire of his soul burned 
 clear. Again they pressed him with offers of life 
 and reward ; he faithfully refused, and with o.ne sa- 
 bre-stroke they severed his head from his body. 
 
 Magawisca paused : she looked at Everell, and 
 said with a bitter smile," You English tell us, Ever-
 
 112 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ell, that the book of your law is better than that 
 written on our hearts ; for ye say it teaches mercy, 
 compassion, forgiveness : if ye had such a law, and 
 believed it, would ye thus have treated a captive 
 boy V 
 
 Magawisca's reflecting mind suggested the most 
 serious obstacle to the progress of the Christian re- 
 ligion, in all ao^es and under all circumstances — the 
 contrariety between its divine principles and the con- 
 duct of its professors ; which, instead of always be- 
 ino* a medium for the light that emanates from our 
 Holy Law, is too often the darkest cloud that ob- 
 structs the passage of its rays to the hearts of hea- 
 then men. Everell had been carefully instructed in 
 the principles of his religion, and he felt Magawis- 
 ca's relation to be an awkward comment on them, 
 and her inquiry natural j but, though he knew not 
 what answer to make, he was sure there must be a 
 good one, and mentally resolving to refer the case to 
 his mother, he begged Magawisca to proceed with 
 her narrative. 
 
 " The fragments of our broken tribe," she said, 
 "were collected, and some other small dependant 
 tribes persuaded to join us. We were obliged to 
 flee from the open grounds, and shelter ourselves in 
 a dismal swamp. The English surrounded us ; they 
 sent in to us a messenger, and offered life and par- 
 don to all who had not shed the blood of English- 
 men. Our allies listened, and fled from us as fright- 
 ened birds fly from a falling tree. My father looked 
 upon his warriors 3 they answered that look with
 
 Hope Leslie. 73 
 
 their battle-shout. ' Tell your people/ said my fa- 
 ther to the messenger, ' that we have shed and drank 
 English blood, and that we will take nothing from 
 .them but death.' 
 
 "The messenger departed, and again returned 
 with offers of pardon if we would come forth, and 
 lay our arrows and our tomahawks at the feet of the 
 English. ' Vv^hat say you, warriors V cried my fa- 
 ther : * shall we take pardon from those who have 
 burned your wives and children, and given your 
 homes to the beasts of prey ; who have robbed you 
 of your hunting-grounds, and driven your canoes 
 from their waters V A hundred arrows were point- 
 ed to the messenger. * Enough : you have your 
 answer,' said my father ; and the messenger return- 
 ed to announce the fate we had chosen." 
 
 " Where was Sassacus 1 Had he abandoned his 
 people ?" asked Everell. 
 
 " Abandoned them ! No : his life was in theirs ; 
 but, accustomed to attack and victory, he could not 
 bear to be thus driven, like a fox, to his hole. His 
 soul was sick within him, and he w^as silent, and left 
 all to my father. All day we heard the strokes of 
 the English axes felling the trees that defended us, 
 and when night came they had approached so near 
 that we could see the glimmering of their w^atch- 
 lights through the branches of the trees. All night 
 they were pouring in their bullets, alike on warriors, 
 women, and children. Old Cushmakin w^as lying 
 at my mother's feet when he received a death-wound. 
 Gasping for breath, he called on Sassacus and my 
 
 Vol. L— G
 
 t4 llOPE LESLIE. 
 
 father : ' Stay not here,' he said ; ' look not on your 
 wives and children, but burst your prison bound ; 
 sound through the nations the cry of revenge! 
 Linked together, ye shall drive the English into the 
 sea. I speak the word of the Great Spirit : obey 
 it 1' While he was yet speaking he stiffened in 
 death. *Obey him, warriors,' cried my mother; 
 'see,' she said, pointing to the mist that was now 
 wrapping itself around the wood like a thick cur- 
 tain, ' see, our friends have come from the spirit-land 
 to shelter you. Nay, look not on us; our hearts 
 have been tender in the wigwam, but we can die 
 before our enemies without a groan. Go forth and 
 avenge us." 
 
 " ' Have we come to the counsel of old men and 
 old women V said Sassacus, in the bitterness of his 
 Spirit* 
 
 " ' When women put down their womanish 
 thoughts and counsel like men, they should be obey- 
 ed,' said my father. * Follow me, warriors !' 
 
 " They burst through the enclosure. We saw 
 nothing more, but we heard the shout from the foe 
 as they issued from the wood — the momentary fierce 
 encounter — and the cry, ' They have escaped !' Then 
 it was that my mother, who had listened with breath- 
 less silencCj threw herself down on the mossy stones, 
 and, laying her hot cheek to mine, ' Oh, my chil- 
 dren, my children !' she said, ' would that I could die 
 for you ! But fear not death ; the blood of a hun- 
 dred chieftains, that never knew fear, runneth in 
 your veins. Hark !^ the enemy comes nearer and
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 75 
 
 nearer. Now lift up your heads, my children, and 
 show them that even the weak ones of our tribe are 
 strong in soul.' 
 
 " We rose from the ground : all about sat women 
 and children in family clusters, awaiting unmoved 
 their fate. The English had penetrated the forest- 
 screen, and were already on the little rising ground 
 where we had been intrenched. Death was dealt 
 freely. None resisted — not a movement was made 
 — not a voice lifted— not a sound escaped, save the 
 wailings of the dying children. 
 
 " One of your soldiers knew my mother, and a 
 command was given that her life and that of her 
 children should be spared. A guard was stationed 
 round us. 
 
 " You know that, after our tribe was thus cut off, 
 we were taken, with a few other captives, to Boston. 
 Some were sent to the Islands of the Sun, to bend 
 their free limbs to bondage like your beasts of bur- 
 den. There are among your people those who have 
 not put out the light of the Great Spirit ; they can 
 remember a kindness, albeit done by an Indian ; and 
 when it was known to your sachems that the wife 
 of Mononotto, once the protector and friend of your 
 people, was a prisoner, they treated her with honour 
 and gentleness. But her people were extinguished ; 
 her husband driven to distant forests — forced on 
 earth to the misery of wicked souls — to wander 
 without a home; her children were captives, and 
 her heart was broken. You know the rest."
 
 76 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 This war, so fatal to the Pequods, had transpired 
 the preceding year. It was an important event to 
 the infant colonies, and its magnitude probably some- 
 what heightened to the imaginations of the English 
 by the terror this resolute tribe had inspired. All 
 the circumstances attending it were still fresh in 
 men's minds, and Everell had heard them detailed 
 with the interest and particularity that belongs to 
 recent adventures; but he had heard them in the 
 language of the enemies and conquerors of the Pe- 
 quods, and from Magawisca's lips they took a new 
 form and hue; she seemed to him to imbody na- 
 ture's best gifts, and her feelings to be the inspira- 
 tion of heaven. This new version of an old story 
 reminded him of the man and the lion in the fable. 
 But here it was not merely changing sculptors to 
 give the advantage to one or the other of the artist's 
 subjects, but it was putting the chisel into the hands 
 of truth, and giving it to whom it belonged. 
 
 He had heard this destruction of the original pos- 
 sessors of the soil described, as we find it in the his- 
 tory of the times, where we are told " the number 
 destroyed was about four hundred ;" and " it was a 
 fearful sight to see them thus frying in the fire, and 
 the streams of blood quenching the same, and the 
 horrible scent thereof; but the victory seemed a sweet 
 sacrifice, and they gave the praise thereof to God." 
 
 In the relations of their enemies, the courage of 
 the Pequods was distorted into ferocity, and their for- 
 titude in their last extremity thus set forth: "many 
 were killed in the swamp, like sullen dogs, that
 
 HOPE LESLIE. Tf 
 
 would rather, in their self-willedness and madness, 
 sit still to be shot or cut in pieces, than receive their 
 lives for asking at the hands of those into whose pow- 
 er they had now fallen." 
 
 Everell's imagination, touched by the wand of 
 feehng, presented a very different picture of those 
 defenceless families of savages, pent in the recesses 
 of their native forests, and there exterminated, not 
 by superior natural force, but by the adventitious cir- 
 cumstances of arms, skill, and knowledge, from that 
 offered by those who, " then living and worthy of 
 credit, did affirm, that in the morning, entering into 
 the swamp, they saw several heaps of them (the Pe- 
 quods) sitting close together, upon whom they dis- 
 charged their pieces, laden with ten or twelve pistol- 
 bullets at a time, putting the muzzles of their pieces 
 under the boughs within a few yards of them." 
 
 Ev^ell did not fail to express to Magawisca, with 
 all the eloquence of a heated imagination, his sym- 
 pathy and admiration of her heroic and suffering 
 people. She listened with a mournful pleasure, as 
 one listens to the praise of a departed friend. Both 
 seemed to have forgotten the purpose of itheir vigil, 
 which they had marvellously kept without apprehen- 
 sion or heaviness, when they w^ere roused from their 
 romantic abstraction by Digby's voice : " Now to 
 your beds, children," he said ; " the family is stirring, 
 and the day is at hand. See the morning star hang- 
 ing just over those trees, like a single watchlight in 
 all the wide canopy. As you have not to look in a 
 prayer-book for it, Master Everell, don't forget to 
 G2
 
 78 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 thank the Lord for keeping us safe, as your mother, 
 God bless her, would say, through the night watches. 
 Stop one moment," added Digby, lowering his voice, 
 to Everell, as he rose to follow Magawisca ; " did she 
 tell you?" 
 
 "Tell me! what?" 
 
 " What I Heaven's mercy ! what ails the boy 1 
 Why, did she tell you what brought her out to-night ? 
 Did she explain all the mysterious actions we have 
 seen ? Are you crazy 1 Did not you ask her ?" 
 
 Everell hesitated ; fortunately for him, the light 
 was too dim to expose to Digby's eye the blushes 
 that betrayed his consciousness that he had forgotten 
 his duty. "Magawisca did not tell me," he said; 
 " but I am sure, Digby, that — " 
 
 " That she can do no wrong — hey, Master Ever- 
 ell ; well, that may be very satisfactory to you, but 
 it does not content me. I like not her secref ways : 
 ' it's bad ware that needs a dark store.' " 
 
 Everell had tried the force of his own convictions 
 on Digby, and knew it to be unavailing ; therefore, 
 having no reply to make, he very discreetly retreat- 
 ed without attempting any. 
 
 Magawisca crept to her bed, but not to repose ; 
 neither watching nor ^Veariness procured sleep for 
 her. Her mind was racked with apprehensions and 
 conflicting duties, the cruellest rack to an honoura- 
 ble mind. 
 
 Nelema had communicated to her, the preceding 
 day, the fact which she had darkly intimated to Mrs. 
 Fletcher, that Mononotto, with one or two associ-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 79 
 
 ates, was lurking in the forest, and watching an op- 
 portunity to make an attack on Bethel. How far 
 his purpose extended, whether simply to the recov- 
 ery of his children or to the destruction of the fami- 
 ly, she knew not. The latter was most probable, for 
 hostile Indians always left blood on their trail. In 
 reply to Magawisca's eager inquiries, Nelema said 
 she had, again and again, assured her father of the 
 kind treatment his children had received at the hands 
 of Mrs. Fletcher ; but he seemed scarcely to hear 
 what she said, and precipitately left her, telling her 
 that she would not again see him till his work was 
 done. 
 
 Magawisca's first impulse had been to reveal all 
 to Mrs. Fletcher ; but by doing this she would jeop- 
 ard her father's life. Her natural sympathies, her 
 strong affections, her pride, were all enlisted on the 
 side of her people ; but she shrunk, as if her own life 
 were menaced, from the blow that was about to fall 
 on her friends. She would have done or suffered 
 anything to avert it — anything but betray her fa- 
 ther. The hope of meeting him explains all that 
 seemed mysterious to Digby. She did go to Nele- 
 ma's hut, but all was quiet there. In returning she 
 found an eagle's feather in the path : she believed 
 it must have just been dropped there by her father, 
 and this circumstance determined her to remain 
 watching through the night, that, if her father should 
 appear, she might avert his vengeance. 
 
 She did not doubt that Digby had really seen and 
 heard him ; and believing that her father would not
 
 80 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 shrink from a single armed man, she hoped against 
 hope, that his sole object was to recover his chil- 
 dren ; hoped against hope, we say, for her reason 
 told her that, if that were his only purpose, it might 
 easily have been accomphshed by the intervention 
 of Nelema. 
 
 Magawisca had said truly to Everell, that her fa- 
 ther's nature had been changed by the wrongs he had 
 received. When the Pequods were proud and pros- 
 perous, he was more noted for his humane virtues 
 than his warlike spirit. The supremacy of his tribe 
 was acknowledged, and it seemed to be his noble 
 nature, as it is sometimes the instinct of the most 
 powerful animals, to protect and defend rather than 
 attack and oppress. The ambitious spirit of his 
 brother chieftain, Sassacus, had ever aspired to do- 
 minion over the allied tribes ; and, immediately af- 
 ter the appearance of the English, the same temper 
 was manifest in a jealousy of their encroachments. 
 He employed all his art, and influence, and authori- 
 ty, to unite the tribes for the extirpation of the dan- 
 gerous invaders. Mononotto, on the contrary, averse 
 to all hostility, and foreseeing no danger from them, 
 was the advocate of an hospitable reception and pa- 
 cific conduct. 
 
 This difference of feeling between the two chiefs 
 may account for the apparent treachery of the Pe- 
 quods, who, as the influence of one or the other pre- 
 vailed, received the English traders with favour and 
 hospitality, or, violating their treaties of friendship, 
 inflicted on them cruelties and death.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 81 
 
 The stories of the murders of Stone, Norton, and 
 Oldham are familiar to every reader of our early 
 annals; and the anecdote of the two English girls 
 who were captured at Wethersfield, and protected 
 and restored to their friends by the wife of Mono- 
 notto, has already been illustrated by a sister labour- 
 er, and is precious to all those who would accumu- 
 late proofs that the image of God is never quite 
 effaced from the souls of his creatures, and that, 
 in their darkest ignorance and deepest degradation, 
 there are still to be found traits of mercy and be- 
 nevolence. These will be gathered and treasured 
 in the memory with that fond feeling with which 
 Mungo Park describes himself to have culled and 
 cherished in his bosom the single flower that bloom- 
 ed in his melancholy track over the African desert. 
 
 The chieftain of a savage race is the depository 
 of the honour of his tribe ; and their defeat is a dis- 
 grace to him, that can only be effaced by the blood 
 of his conquerors. It is a common case with the 
 unfortunate, to be compelled to endure the reproach 
 of inevitable evils; and Mononotto was often re- 
 minded by the remnant of his tribe, in the bitterness 
 of their spirit, of his former kindness to the English. 
 This reproach sharpened too keenly the edge of his 
 adversity. 
 
 He had seen his people slaughtered, or driven 
 from their homes and hunting-grounds into shameful 
 exile ; his wife had died in captivity, and his chil- 
 dren lived in servile dependance in the house of his 
 enemies.
 
 82 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Sassacus perished by treachery, and Mononotto 
 alone remained to endure this accumulated misery. 
 In this extremity, he determined on the rescue of his 
 children, and the infliction of some signal deed of 
 vengeance, by which he hoped to re^dve the spirit 
 of the natives, and reinstate himself as the head of 
 his broken and dispersed people : in his most san- 
 guine moments, he meditated a combination and 
 unity that should eventually expel the invaders.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " There have been sweet singing voices 
 In your walks that now are still ; 
 There are seats left void in your earthly homes, 
 Which none again may fjll." 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 Magawisca rose from her sleepless pillow to join 
 the family at prayers, her mind distracted with op- 
 posing fears, w^hich her face, the mirror of her soul, 
 too truly reflected. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher observed her narrowly ; and, con- 
 firmed in her forebodings by the girPs apprehensive 
 countenance, and still farther by Digby's report of 
 her behaviour during the night, she resolved to de- 
 spatch him to Mr. Pynchon for his advice and as- 
 sistance touching her removal to the fort, or the ap- 
 pointment of a guard for Bethel. Her servant (who 
 prudently kept his alarm to himself, knowing, as he 
 said, that a woman's fears were always ahead of 
 danger) applauded her decision, and was on the 
 point of proceeding to act upon it, when a messen- 
 ger arrived with the joyful tidings that Mr. Fletcher 
 was within a few hours' ride of Bethel ; and the 
 intelligence, no less joyful to Dame Grafton, that 
 with his luggage, already arrived at the village, was 
 a small box of millinery w^hich she had ordered 
 from London.
 
 84 HOPE LESLIfi. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher, feeling, as good wives do, a sense 
 of safety from the proximity of her husband, bade 
 Digby defer any new arrangement till he had the 
 benefit of his master's counsel. The whole house 
 was thrown into the commotion so common in a re- 
 tired family when an arrival is about to interrupt 
 the equable current of hfe. Whatever unexpressed 
 and superior happiness some others might have felt, 
 no individual made such busthng demonstrations as 
 Mrs. Grafton. It was difficult to say w^hich excited 
 her most, the anticipation of seeing her niece, Hope 
 Leslie, or of inspecting the box of millinery. 
 
 Immediately after dinner, two of the men-servants 
 were despatched to the village to transport their mas- 
 ter's luggage. They had hardly gone, when Mrs. 
 Grafton recollected that her box contained a present 
 for Madam Hohoke, wdiich it would be a thousand 
 pities to have brought to Bethel, and lie there per- 
 haps a week before it would be sent to her, and " she 
 would like of all things, if Mrs. Fletcher saw no ob- 
 jection, to have the pony saddled and ride to the 
 village herself, where the present could be made 
 forthwith." 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher w^as too happy to throw a shadow 
 across any one's path, and wearied too, perhaps, with 
 Mrs. Grafton's fidgeting (for the good dame had all 
 day been wondering whether her confidential agent 
 had matched her orange satin ; how she had trimmed 
 her cap, &c., &c., &c.), she ordered a horse to be 
 saddled and brought to the door. The animal pro- 
 ved a little restiff ; and Mrs. Grafton, not excelling
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 85 
 
 in horsemanship, became alarmed, and begged that 
 Digby might be allowed to attend her. 
 
 Digby's cleverness was felt by all the household, 
 and his talents were always in requisition for the 
 miscellaneous wants of the family ; but Digby, like 
 good servants in every age, was aware of his impor- 
 tance, and was not more willing than a domestic of 
 the present day to be worked like a machine. He 
 muttered something of " old women making fools 
 of themselves with new top-knots ;" and saying aloud 
 that " Mistress Grafton knew it was his master's or- 
 der that all the men-servants should not be away 
 from the place at the same time," he was turning 
 off, when Mrs. Fletcher, who was standing at the 
 door observing him, requested him, with more au- 
 thority than was usual in her manner, to comply with 
 Mrs. Grafton's request. 
 
 " 1 would not wish," said Digby, still hesitating, 
 " to disoblige Mrs. Grafton — if it were a matter of 
 life and death," he added, lowering his voice 3 " but 
 to get more furbebws for the old lady, when, with 
 what she has already, she makes such a fool of her- 
 self, that our young witlings. Master Everell and 
 Oneco, garnish out our old Yorkshire hen with pea- 
 cock's feathers and dandelions, and then call her 
 * Dame Grafton in a flurry — ' " 
 
 " Hush, Digby !" said Mrs. Fletcher; " it ill be- 
 fits you to laugh at such fooleries in the boys : they 
 shall be corrected ; and do you learn to treat your 
 master's friend with respect." 
 
 " Come, come, Digby !" screamed Mrs. Grafton. 
 
 Vol. L— H
 
 86 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 *' Shall I go and break my master's orders ?" ask- 
 ed Digby, still bent on having his own way. 
 
 " For this once you shall, Digby," answered Mrs. 
 Fletcher ; " and if you need any apology to your 
 master, I shall not fail to make it." 
 
 " But if anything should happen to you, Mistress 
 Fletcher—" 
 
 " Nothing will happen, my good Digby. Is not 
 your master at hand ? and an hour or two will be 
 the extent of your absence. So get thee along, with- 
 out more ado." 
 
 Digby could not resist any farther the authority of 
 his gentle mistress, and he walked by the side of 
 Mrs. Grafton's pony with slow, unwilling steps. 
 
 All was joy in Mrs. Fletcher's dwelling. "My 
 dear mother," said Everell, " it is now quite time to 
 look out for father and Hope Leslie. I have turned 
 the hour-glass three times since dinner, and counted 
 all the sands, I think. Let us all go on the front por- 
 tico, where we can catch the first glimpse of them 
 as they come past the elm-trees. Here, Oneco," he 
 continued, as he saw assent in his mother's smile, 
 " help me out with mother's rocking-chair : rather 
 rough rocking," he added, as he adjusted the rockers 
 lengthwise with the logs that served for the flooring ; 
 " but mother w^on't mind trifles just now. Ah ! bless- 
 ed baby brother," he continued, taking in his arms 
 the beautiful infant, "you shall come too, even though 
 you cheat me out of my birthright, and get the first 
 kiss from father." Thus saying, he placed the laugh- 
 ing infant in his go-cart beside his mother. He then
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 87 
 
 aided his little sisters in their arrangement of the play- 
 things they had brought forth to welcome and aston- 
 ish Hope ; and, finally, he made an elevated posi- 
 tion for Faith Leslie, where she might, he said, as 
 she ought, catch the very first glimpse of her sister. 
 
 " Thank, thank you, Everell," said the little girl, 
 as she mounted her pinnacle ; " if you knew Hope, 
 you would want to see her first too : everybody loves 
 Hope. We shall always have pleasant times when 
 Hope gets here." 
 
 It was one of the most beautiful afternoons at the 
 close of the month of May. The lagging spring had 
 at last come forth in all her power ; her " work of 
 gladness" was finished, and forests, fields, and mead- 
 ows were bright with renovated life. The full Con- 
 necticut swept triumphantly on, as if still exulting in 
 its release from the fetters of winter. Every gush- 
 ing rill had the spring-note of joy. The meadows 
 were for the first time enriched with patches of Eng- 
 lish grain, which the new settlers had sown scantily 
 by way of experiment, prudently occupying the great- 
 est portion of their rich mould with the native In- 
 dian corn. This product of our soil is beautiful in 
 all its progress, from the moment when, as now, it 
 studded the meadow with hillocks, shooting its bright- 
 pointed spear from its mother earth, to its maturity, 
 when the long golden ear bursts from the rustling 
 leaf 
 
 The grounds about Mrs. Fletcher's house had been 
 prepared with the neatness of English taste, and a 
 rich bed of clover, that overspread the lawn imme-
 
 88 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 diately before the portico, already rewarded the in- 
 dustry of the cultivators. Over this delicate carpet, 
 the domestic fowls, the first civihzed inhabitants of 
 the country of their tribe, were now treading, picking 
 their food here and there like dainty little epicures. 
 
 The scene had also its minstrels ; the birds, those 
 ministers and worshippers of nature, were on the 
 wing, filling the air with melody ; while, like dili- 
 gent little housewives, they ransacked forest and field 
 for materials for their housekeeping. 
 
 A mother encircled by healthful sporting chil- 
 dren is always a beautiful spectacle : a spectacle 
 that appeals to nature in every human breast. Mrs. 
 Fletcher, in obedience to matrimonial duty, or, it may 
 be, from some lingering of female vanity, had on 
 this occasion dressed herself with extraordinary care. 
 What woman does not wish to look handsome — in 
 the eyes of her husband ? 
 
 " Mother," said Everell, putting aside the exqui- 
 sitely fine lace that shaded her cheek, " I do not be- 
 heve you looked more beautiful than you do to-day 
 when, as I have heard, they called you ' the rose of 
 the wilderness :' our little Mary's cheek is as round 
 and as bright as a peach, but it is not so handsome 
 as yours, mother. Your heart has sent this colour 
 here," he continued, kissing her tenderly ; " it seems 
 to have come forth to tell us that our father is near." 
 
 " It would shame me, Everell," replied his mother, 
 embracing him with a feeling that the proudest draw- 
 ing-room belle might have envied, " to take such 
 flattery from any lips but thine."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 89 
 
 " Oh, do not call it flattery, mother : look, Maga- 
 wisca — for Heaven's sake, cheer up — look, would 
 you know mother's eye 1 Just turn it, mother, one 
 minute from that road — and her pale cheek too, with 
 this rich colour." 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" replied Magawisca, glancing her 
 eye at Mrs. Fletcher, and then, as if heart-struck, 
 withdrawing them, " how soon the flush of the set- 
 ting sun fades away." 
 
 " Oh, Magawisca," said Evcrell, impatiently, 
 " why are you so dismal 1 Your voice is too sweet 
 for a bird of ill omen. I shall begin to think, as 
 Jennet says — though Jennet is no text-book for me 
 — I shall begin to think old Neleraa has really be- 
 witched you." 
 
 " You call me a bird of ill omen," replied Maga- 
 wisca, half proud, half sorrowful, " and you call the 
 owl a bird of ill omen, but we hold him sacred j he 
 is our sentinel, and when danger is near he cries 
 awake ! awake !" 
 
 " Magawisca, you are positively unkind : Jere- 
 miah's lamentations on a holyday would not be more 
 cut of time than your croaking is now : the very 
 skies, earth, and air seem to partake our joy at my 
 father's return, and you only make a discord. Do 
 you think, if your father was near, I would not share 
 your joy ?' 
 
 Tears fell fast from Magawisca's eye, but she made 
 no reply ; and Mrs. Fletcher, observing and compas- 
 sionating her emotion, and thinking it probably arose 
 from comparing her orphan state to that of the mer- 
 H2
 
 90 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ry children about her, called her and said, " Maga- 
 wisca, you are neither a stranger nor a servant, will 
 you not share our joy ? Do you not love us ?" 
 
 " Love you !" she exclaimed, clasping her hands ; 
 " Jove you ! I would give my life for you." 
 
 " We do not ask your life, my good girl," replied 
 Mrs. Fletcher, kindly smiling on her, '^ but a light 
 heart and a cheerful look. A sad countenance doth 
 not become this joyful hour. Go and help Oneco ; 
 he is quite out of breath blowing those soap-bubbles 
 for the children." 
 
 Oneco smiled and shook his head, and continued 
 to send off one after another of the prismatic globes ; 
 and as they rose and floated on the air, and bright- 
 ened with the many-coloured ray, the little girls 
 clapped their hands, and the baby stretched his to 
 grasp the brilliant vapour. 
 
 " Oh !" said Magawisca, impetuously covering her 
 eyes, " I do not like to see anything so beautiful pass 
 so quickly away." 
 
 Scarcely had she uttered these words, when sud- 
 denly, as if the earth had opened on them, three In- 
 dian warriors darted from the forest, and pealed on 
 the air their horrible yells. 
 
 " My father ! my father !" burst from the lips of 
 Magawisca and Oneco. 
 
 Faith Leslie sprang towards the Indian boy, and 
 clung fast to him, and the children clustered about 
 their mother ; she instinctively caught her infant, and 
 held it close within her arms, as if their ineffectual 
 shelter were a rampart.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 91 
 
 Magav;isca uttered a cry of agony, and springing 
 forward with her arms uphfted, as if deprecating his 
 approach, she sunk down at her father's feet, and 
 clasping her hands, " Save them! save them !" she 
 cried, " the mother — the children ; oh, they are all 
 good ; take vengeance on your enemies, but spare, 
 spare our friends, our benefactors ; I bleed when 
 they are struck : oh, command them to stop !" she 
 screamed, looking to the companions of her father, 
 who, unchecked by her cries, were pressing on to 
 their deadly work. 
 
 Mononotto was silent and motionless ; his eye 
 glanced wildly from Magawisca to Oneco. Maga- 
 wisca replied to the glance of fire, " Yes, they have 
 sheltered us, they have spread the wing of love 
 over us ; save them ! save them ! oh, it will be too 
 late," she cried, springing from her father, whose 
 silence and fixedness showed that, if his better nature 
 rebelled against the work of revenge, there was no 
 relenting of purpose. Magawisca darted before the 
 Indian who was advancing towards Mrs. Fletcher 
 wdth an uplifted hatchet. " You shall hew me to 
 pieces ere you touch her," she said, and planted her- 
 self as a shield before her benefactress. 
 
 The warrior's obdurate heart, untouched by the 
 sight of the helpless mother and her little ones, was 
 thrilled by the courage of the heroic girl ; he paus- 
 ed and grimdy smiled on he'r, when his companion, 
 crying '' Hasten, the dogs will be on us !" levelled a 
 deadly blow at Mrs. Fletcher ; but his uplifted arm 
 was penetrated by a musket shot, and the hatchet 
 fell harmless to the floor.
 
 92 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Courage, mother !" cried Everell, reloading the 
 piece ; but neither courage nor celerity could avail : 
 the second Indian sprang upon him, threw him on the 
 floor, wrested his musket from him, and brandishing 
 his tomahawk over his head, he would have aimed 
 the fatal stroke, w^hen a cry from Mononotto arrest- 
 ed his arm. 
 
 Everell extricated himself from his grasp, and one 
 hope flashing into his mind, he seized a bugle-horn 
 which hung beside the door, and winded it. This 
 was the conventional signal of alarm, and he sent 
 forth a blast long and loud — a death-cry. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton and her attendants were just mount- 
 ing their horses to return home. Digby listened for 
 a moment ; then exclaiming, " It comes from our 
 master's dwelling I Ride for your life, Hutton !" he 
 tossed away a bandbox that encumbered him, and 
 spurred his horse to its utmost speed. 
 
 The alarm was spread through the village, and 
 in a brief space Mr. Pynchon, with six armed men, 
 were pressing towards the fatal scene. 
 
 In the mean time the tragedy was proceeding at 
 Bethel. Mrs. Fletcher's senses had been stunned 
 with terror. She had neither spoken nor moved 
 after she grasped her infant. Everell's gallant in- 
 terposition restored a momentary consciousness : she 
 screamed to him, "Fly, Everell, my son, fly; for 
 your father's sake, fly." 
 
 "Never," he replied, springing to his mother's 
 side. 
 
 The savages, always rapid in their movements,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 93 
 
 were now aware that their safety depended on de- 
 spatch. " Finish your work, warriors," cried Mon- 
 onotto. Obedient to the command, and infuriated 
 by his bleeding wound, the Indian, who, on receiv- 
 ing the shot, had staggered back and leaned against 
 the wall, now sprang forward and tore the infant 
 from its mother's breast. She shrieked, and in that 
 shriek passed the agony of death. She was uncon- 
 scious that her son, putting forth a strength beyond 
 nature, for a moment kept the Indian at bay; she 
 neither saw nor felt the knife struck at her own 
 heart. She felt not the arms of her defenders, Ev- 
 erell and Magawisca, as they met around her neck. 
 She fainted and fell to the floor, dragging her impo- 
 tent protectors with her. 
 
 The savage, in his struggle with Everell, had 
 tossed the infant boy to the ground ; he fell quite 
 unharmed on the turf at Mononotto's feet. There, 
 raising his head, and looking up into the chieftain's 
 face, he probably perceived a gleam of mercy, for, 
 wdth the quick instinct of infancy, that with unerring 
 sagacity directs its appeal, he clasped the naked leg 
 of the savage with one arm, and stretched the other 
 towards him with a piteous supplication that no 
 words could have expressed. Mononotto's heart 
 melted within him ; he stooped to raise the sweet 
 suppliant, when one of the Mohawks fiercely seized 
 him, tossed him wildly around his head, and clashed 
 him on the door-stone. But the silent prayer — per- 
 haps the celestial inspiration — of the innocent crea- 
 ture was not lost, " We have had blood enough,"
 
 94 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 • 
 
 cried Mononotto ; " you have well avenged me, 
 brothers." 
 
 Then looking at Oneco, who had remained in one 
 corner of the portico, clasping Faith Leslie in his 
 arms, he commanded him to follow him with the 
 child. Everell was torn from the lifeless bodies of 
 his mother and sisters, and dragged into the forest. 
 Magawisca uttered one cry of agony and despair 
 as she looked for the last time on the bloody scene, 
 and then followed her father. 
 
 As they passed the boundary of the cleared 
 ground, Mononotto tore from Oneco his English 
 dress, and casting it from him, "Thus perish," he 
 said, " every mark of the captivity of my children. 
 Thou shalt return to our forests," he continued, 
 wrapping a skin around him, " with the badge of 
 thy people."
 
 HOfE LESLIE. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " It is but a shadow vanished— a bubble broke— a dreame finish' t : 
 Eterniiie will pay for all." — Roger Williams, 
 
 Scarcely had the invaders disappeared and the 
 sound of their footsteps died away, when Digby and 
 Hutton came in view of the dweUing. " Ah !" said 
 Hutton, reining in his horse, " I thought all this flus- 
 ter was for nothing — the blast a boy's prank. A 
 pretty piece of work we've made of it ; you'll have 
 Mistress Grafton about your ears for tossing away 
 her Lon'on gimcracks. All is as quiet here as a 
 Saturday night ; nothing to be seen but the smoke 
 from the kitchen chimney, and that's a pleasant sight 
 to me, for I went off without my dinner, and me- 
 thinks it will now taste as savoury as Jacob's pot- 
 tage." 
 
 Digby lent no attention to his companion's chat- 
 tering, but pressed on ; his fears were allayed, but 
 not removed. As he approached the house, he felt 
 that the silence which pervaded it boded no good; 
 but the horrors of the reality far surpassed the worst 
 suggestions of his vague apprehensions. " Oh, my 
 mistress ! my mistress !" he screamed, when the hav- 
 oc of death burst upon his sight. " My good mis- 
 tress—and her girls ! and the baby too ! Oh, God, 
 have mercy on my master !" and he bent over the
 
 96 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 bodies and wrung his hands: "not one — not one 
 spared !" 
 
 "Yes, one," spoke a trembling, whining voice, 
 which proved to be Jennet's, who had just emerged 
 from her hiding-place covered with soot ; " by the 
 blessing of a kind Providence, I have been preserved 
 for some wise end; but," she continued, panting, 
 " the fright has taken my breath away, besides being 
 squeezed as flat as a pancake in the bedroom chim- 
 ney." 
 
 " Stop — for Heaven's sake, stop, Jennet, and tell 
 me, if you can, if Mr. Everell was here." 
 
 Jennet did not know; she remembered having 
 seen the family in general assembled, just before she 
 heard the yell of the savages. 
 
 " How long," Digby inquired, " have they been 
 gone ? how long since you heard the last sound V 
 
 " That's more than mortal man, or woman either, 
 in my case, could tell, Mr. Digby. Do you think, 
 when a body seems to feel a scalping-knife in their 
 heads, they can reckon time ? No ; hours are min- 
 utes, and minutes hours, in such a case." 
 
 " Oh, fool ! fool !" cried Digby ; and, turning dis- 
 gusted away, his eye fell on his musket. " Thank 
 the Lord !" he exclaimed, " Mr, Everell has poured 
 one shot into the fiends ; he alone knew where the 
 gun was : bless the boy — bless him ; he has a strong 
 arm and a stout soul — bless him. They have taken 
 him off; we'll after him, Hutton. Jennet, bring 
 my hunting pouch. Look to your firelock, Hutton. 
 Magawisca ! Oneco ! Faith Leslie, all gone !" he con-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 9t 
 
 tinued, his first amazement dissipating, and thought 
 after thought flashing the truth on his mind. " I re- 
 member last night — oh, Mr. Everell, how the girl 
 deceived you ! she knew it all." 
 
 " Ah, Magawisca ! so I thought,'' said Jennet. 
 " She knows everything evil that happens in earth, 
 sea, or air — she and that mother-witch Nelema. I 
 always told Mrs. Fletcher she was warming a viper 
 in her bosom, poor dear lady ; but I suppose it was 
 for wise ends she was left to her bUndness." 
 
 " Are you ready, Hutton ?" asked Digby, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Ready ! yes, T am ready ; but what is the use, 
 Digby ? what are we two against a host ? and, be- 
 sides, you know not how long they have been gone.'' 
 
 "Not very long," said Digby, shuddering, and 
 pointing to blood that was trickling, drop by drop, 
 from the edge of the flooring to the step. How long 
 the faithful fellow might have urged, we know not, 
 for cowardice hath ever ready and abundant argu- 
 ments, and Hutton w^as not a man to be persuaded 
 into danger ; but the arrival of Mr. Pynchon and his 
 men put an end to the debate. 
 
 Mr. Pynchon w^as the faithful, paternal guardian 
 of his little colony. He saw in this scene of violent 
 death not only the present overwhelming misery of 
 the family at Bethel, but the fearful fate to which 
 all were exposed who had perilled their lives in 
 the wilderness ; but he could give but brief space to 
 bitter reflections and the lamentings of nature. In- 
 stant care and service were necessary for the dead 
 
 Vol. L— I
 
 98 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and the living. The bodies of the mother and chil- 
 dren were removed to one of the apartments, and 
 decently disposed, and then, after a fervent prayer — 
 a duty never omitted in any emergency by the Pil- 
 grims, whose faith in the minute superintendence of 
 Providence was practical — he directed the necessa- 
 ry arrangements for the pursuit of the enemy. 
 
 Little could be gathered from Jennet. She was 
 mainly occupied with her own remarkable preserva- 
 tion, not doubting that Providence had specially in- 
 terposed to save the only life utterly insignificant in 
 any eyes but her own. She recollected to have heard 
 Magawisca exclaim " My father !" at the first onset 
 of the savages. The necessary conclusion was, that 
 the party had been led by the Pequod chief. It was 
 obviously probable that he would return, with his 
 children and captives, to the Mohawks, where, it 
 was well known, he had found refuge ; of course, the 
 pursuers were to take a westerly direction. Jennet 
 was of opinion that the party was not numerous ; and, 
 encumbered as they must be with their prisoners, the 
 one a child, whom it would be necessary, in a rapid 
 flight, to carry, Mr. Pynchon had sanguine expecta- 
 tions that they might be overtaken. 
 
 The fugitives, obliged to avoid the cleared mead- 
 ows, had, as Mr. Pynchon believed, taken an indirect 
 path through the forest to the Connecticut ; which, 
 in pursuance of their probable route, they would of 
 course cross as soon as they could with safety. He 
 selected five of his men, whom he deemed fittest for 
 the expedition, and recommending it to them to be
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 99 
 
 guided by the counsel of Digby, whose impatient zeal 
 was apparent, he directed them to take a direct 
 course to the river. He was to return to the village, 
 and despatch a boat to them, with which they were 
 to ply up the river, in the hope of intercepting the 
 passage of the Indians. 
 
 The men departed, led by Digby, to whose agita- 
 ted spirit every moment's delay had appeared unne- 
 cessary and fatal; and Mr. Pynchon was mounting 
 his horse, when he saw Mr. Fletcher, who had avoid- 
 ed the circuitous road through the village, emerge 
 from the forest, and come in full view of his dwell- 
 ing. Mr. Pynchon called to Jennet, " Yonder is 
 your master; he must not come hither while this 
 precious blood is on the threshold ; I shall take him 
 to my house, and assistance shall be sent to you. In 
 the mean time, watch those bodies faithfully." 
 
 " Oh ! I can't stay here alone," whimpered Jennet, 
 running after Mr. Pynchon ; " I would not stay for 
 all the Promised Land." 
 
 " Back, w^oman !" cried Mr. Pynchon, in a voice of 
 thunder; and Jennet retreated, the danger of ad- 
 vancing appearing for the moment the greater of 
 the two. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was attended by two Indians, who 
 followed him, bearing on a litter his favourite, Hope 
 Leslie. "When they came within sight of Bethel, 
 they shouted the chorus of a native song. Hope in- 
 quired its meaning. They told her, and raising her- 
 self, and tossing back the bright curls that shaded 
 her eyes, she clapped her hands, and accompanied
 
 100 HOrE LESLIE, 
 
 them with the English words, "The home ! the home! 
 the chieftain's home !" " And my home too, is it 
 not ]" she said. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was touched with the joy with which 
 this bright litjle_creature, wVin_haf] Ipff i\ p^l a p.p. in 
 England, hailed his-mst ic dwelling in.t ^p ^^der- 
 ness. He turned on her a smile of delight — he could 
 not speak ; the sight of his home had opened the 
 floodgates of his heart. " Oh, now," she continued, 
 wdth growing animation, " I shall meet my sister. 
 But why does she not come to meet us ? Where is 
 your Everell 1 and the girls 1 There is no one look- 
 ing out for us." 
 
 The stillness of the place, and the absence of all 
 living objects, Struck Mr. Fletcher with fearful ap- 
 prehensions, heightened by the sight of his friend, 
 who was coming at full gallop towards him. To 
 an accurate observer, the effects of joy and sorrow 
 on the human figure are easily discriminated ; mis- 
 ery depresses, contracts, and paralyzes the body as 
 it does the spirit. 
 
 " Remain here for a few moments," said Mr. 
 Fletcher to his attendants, and he put spurs to his 
 horse and galloped forward. 
 
 " Put down the litter," said Hope Leslie to her 
 bearers. " 1 cannot stand stock-still here, in sight of 
 the house where my sister is." The Indians knew 
 their duty, and determining to abide by the letter of 
 their employer's orders, did not depress the litter. 
 
 " There, take that for your sulkiness," she said, 
 giving each a tap on his ear j and half impatient,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 101 
 
 half sportive, she leaped from the litter and bounded 
 forward. 
 
 The friends met. Mr. Pynchon covered his face 
 and groaned aloud. " What has happened to my 
 family 1" demanded Mr. Fletcher. " My wife — my 
 son — my little ones ? Oh, speak ! God give me 
 grace to hear thee !" 
 
 In vain Mr. Pynchon essayed to speak ; he could 
 find no w^ords to soften the frightful truth. Mr. 
 Fletcher turned his horse's head towards Bethel, and 
 was proceeding to end, himself, the insupportable 
 suspense, when his friend, seizing his arm, cried, 
 " Stop ! stop ! go not thither ! thy house is deso- 
 late !" and then, half choked with groans and sobs, 
 he unfolded the dismal story. 
 
 Not a sound nor a sigh escaped the blasted man. 
 He seemed to be turned into stone till he was roused 
 by the wild shrieks of the little girl, who, unobserv- 
 ed, had listened to the communication of Mr. Pyn- 
 chon. 
 
 " Take the child with you," he said ; " I shall go to 
 my house. If — if my boy returns, send a messenger 
 instantly ; otherwise, suffer me to remain alone till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 He passed on without appearing to hear the cries 
 and entreaties of Hope Leslie, who, forcibly detained 
 by Mr. Pynchon, screamed, " Oh ! take me, take me 
 with you : there are but us two left ; I will not go 
 away from you !" but at last, finding resistance use- 
 less, she yielded, and w^as conveyed to the village, 
 where she was received by her aunt Grafton, whose 
 12
 
 102 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 grief was as noisy and communicative as Mr. I'letch- 
 er's had been silent and unexpressed by any of the 
 ordinary forms of sorrow. 
 
 Early on the following morning, Mr. Pynchon, at- 
 tended by several others, men and women, went to 
 Bethel to offer their sympathy and service. They 
 met Jennet at the door, who, greatly relieved by the 
 sight of human faces, and ears willing to listen, in- 
 formed them that, immediately after her master's 
 arrival, he had retired to the apartment that con- 
 tained the bodies of the deceased, charging her not 
 to intrude on him. 
 
 A murmur of apprehension ran around the circle. 
 " It was misjudged to leave him here alone," whis- 
 pered one. " It is not every man, though his faith 
 stand as a mountain in his prosperity, that can bear 
 to have the Lord put forth his hand, and touch his 
 bone and his flesh." 
 
 " Ah !" said another, " my heart misgave me when 
 Mr. Pynchon told us how calm he took it ; such a 
 calm as that is like the still dead waters that cover 
 the lost cities ; quiet is not the nature of the crea- 
 ture, and you may be sure that unseen havoc and 
 ruin are underneath." 
 
 "The poor dear gentleman should have taken 
 something to eat or drink," said a little, plump, fuU- 
 fed lady ; " there is nothing so feeding to grief as an 
 empty stomach. Madam Holioke, do not you think 
 it would be prudent for us to guard with a little cor- 
 dial and a bit of spiced cake — if this good girl can 
 give it to us V looking at Jennet. " The dear lady
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 103 
 
 that's gone was ever thrifty in her housewifery, and 
 I doubt not she left such witnesses behind." 
 
 Mrs. Holioke shook her head, and a man of a most 
 solemn and owl-like aspect, who sat between the la- 
 dies, turned to the last speaker and said, in a deep 
 guttural tone, "Judy, thou shouldst not bring thy 
 carnal propensities to this house of mourning — and 
 perchance of sin. Where the Lord works, Satan 
 worketh also, tempting the wounded. I doubt our 
 brother Fletcher hath done violence to himself. He 
 was ever of a proud — that is to say, a peculiar and 
 silent make, and what won't bend will break." 
 
 The suggestion in this speech communicated alarm 
 to all present. Several persons gathered about Mr. 
 Pynchon. Some advised him to knock at the door 
 of the adjoining apartment ; others counselled for- 
 cing it, if necessary. While each one was proffering 
 his opinion, the door opened from within, and Mr. 
 Fletcher came among them. 
 
 " Do you bring me any news of my son ?" he 
 asked Mr. Pynchon. 
 
 Till this question was put and answered, there 
 was a tremulousness of voice, a knitting of the brow, 
 and a variation of colour, that indicated the agita- 
 tion of the sufferer's soul ; but then a sublime com- 
 posure overspread his countenance and figure. He 
 noticed every one present with more than his usual 
 attention ; and to a superficial observer, one who 
 knew not how to interpret his mortal paleness, the 
 fixed melancholy of his glazed eye, and his rigid 
 muscles, which had the inflexibility of marble, he
 
 1Q4 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 might have appeared to be suffering less than any 
 person present. Some cried outright; some stared 
 with undisguised and irrepressible curiosity; some 
 were voluble in the expression of their sympathy ; 
 while a few were pale, silent, and awe-struck. All 
 these many-coloured feehngs fell on Mr. Fletcher 
 like light on a black surface, producing no change, 
 meeting no return. He stood leaning on the mantel- 
 piece till the first burst of feeling was over; till all, 
 insensibly yielding to his example, became quiet, and 
 the apartment was as still as that in which death 
 held his silent dominion. 
 
 Mr. Pynchon then whispered to him : " My friend, 
 bear your testimony now ; edify us with a seasonable 
 word, showing that you are not amazed at your ca- 
 lamity ; that you counted the cost before you under- 
 took to build the Lord's building in the wilderness. 
 It is suitable that you should turn your affliction to 
 the profit of the Lord's people." 
 
 Mr. Fletcher felt himself stretched on a rack that 
 he must endure with a martyr's patience ; he lifted 
 up his head, and with much effort spoke one brief 
 sentence — a sentence which contains all that a Chris- 
 tian could feel, or the stores of language could ex- 
 press : *' God's will be done !" he said, and then hur- 
 ried away to hide his struggles in solitude. 
 
 Relieved from the restraint of his presence, the 
 company poured forth such moral, consoling, and pi- 
 ous reflections as usually flow spontaneously from the 
 lips of the spectators of suffering, and which would 
 seem to indicate that each individual has a spare
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 105 
 
 stock of wisdom and patience for his neighbour's oc- 
 casions, though, through some strange fatahty, they 
 are never applied to his own use. 
 
 We hope our readers will not think we have wan- 
 tonly sported with their feelings, by drawing a pic- 
 ture of calamity that only exists in the fictitious tale. 
 No; such events as we have feebly related were 
 common in our early annals, and attended by hor- 
 rors that it would be impossible for the imagina- 
 tion to exaggerate. Not only families, but villages, 
 were cut off by the most dreaded of all foes — the 
 ruthless, vengeful savage. 
 
 In the quiet possession of the blessings transmitted, 
 we are, perhaps, in danger of forgetting or undervalu- 
 ing the sufferings by which they were obtained. We 
 forget that the noble Pilgrims lived and endured for 
 us ; that when they came to the wilderness, they 
 said truly, though it may be somewhat quaintly, that 
 they turned their backs on Egypt ; they did virtual- 
 ly renounce all dependance on earthly supports; 
 they left the land of their birth, of their homes, of 
 their father's sepulchres; they sacrificed ease and 
 preferment, and all the dehghts of sense — and for 
 what 1 To open for themselves an earthly paradise 1 
 to dress their bowers of pleasure, and rejoice with 
 their wives and children ? No : they came not for 
 themselves, they lived not to themselves. An exiled 
 and suffering people, they came forth in the dignity 
 of the chosen servants of the Lord, to open the for- 
 ests to the sunbeam, and to the light of the Son of 
 Righteousness ; to restore man — man, oppressed and
 
 106 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 trampled on by his fellow — to religious and civil 
 liberty, and equal rights ; to replace the creatures of 
 God on their natural level ; to bring down the hills, 
 and make smooth the rough places, which the pride 
 and cruelty of man had wrought on the fair creation 
 of the Father of all. 
 
 What was their reward ? Fortune ? distinctions 1 
 the sweet charities of home ? No : but their feet 
 were planted on the Mount of Vision, and they saw, 
 with sublime joy, a multitude of people where the 
 solitary savage roamed the forest; the forest van- 
 ished, and pleasant villages and busy cities appear- 
 ed ; the tangled footpath expanded to the thronged 
 highway ; the consecrated church planted on the 
 rock of heathen sacrifice. 
 
 And that we might realize this vision, enter into 
 this promised land of faith, they endured hardship 
 and braved death, deeming, as said one of their com- 
 pany, that " he is not worthy to live at all, who, for 
 fear of danger or death, shunneth his country's ser- 
 vice or his own honour, since death is inevitable, 
 and the fame of virtue immortal." 
 
 If these were the fervours of enthusiasm, it was an 
 enthusiasm kindled and fed by the holy flame that 
 glows on the altar of God ; an enthusiasm that nev- 
 er abates, but gathers life and strength as the im- 
 mortal soul expands in the image of its Creator. 
 
 We shall now leave the little community assem- 
 bled 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
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 107 
 
 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. 
 
 I\Iononotto and his party in their flight had less 
 than an hour's advantage of their pursuers, and, 
 retarded by their captives, they v»-ould 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 ac- 
 curate 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 ac- 
 celerate their retreat. They placed the little Leslie 
 on the back of one of the iMohawks, and attached 
 her there by a hapins, or strong wide band, passed 
 several times over her, and around the body of her 
 bearer. She screamed at her separation from One- 
 co ; but, being permitted to stretch out her hand and 
 place it in his, she became quiet and satisfied. 
 
 The Mohawk auxiharies, who so lately had seem- 
 ed two insatiate bloodhounds, now appeared to re- 
 gard 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
 
 108 HOPE LESLilg* 
 
 smarting, eyed him with glances of brooding malig- 
 •nity. Magawisca perceived this, and dreading lest 
 the savage should give way to a sudden impulse of 
 revenge, she placed herself between him and Ever- 
 ell. This movement aw^akened Mononotto from a 
 sullen revery, and striking his hands together angri- 
 ly, 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, thrill- 
 ing tone, " My father ! my father ! where are my fa- 
 ther'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 waved 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 w^as 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 1 Oh, spare him 1 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 wxre clustered, are
 
 Hope leslie. 109 
 
 silence and darkness ; thistles have sprung up around 
 our hearth-stones, and grass lias overgro\vn our path- 
 ways. 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 
 v>'orthy 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 
 com.manded 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, re- 
 verting to her habitually calm tone, " if to fear ray 
 father should do a wrong, even to an enemy, is cow- 
 ardice." 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 unw^ittingly touched the spring of 
 her father's vin(Hctive 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 re* 
 venge." 
 
 Vol. L— K
 
 110 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 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 interces- 
 sion; for, though her words were uttered in her o.vn 
 tongue, there was no mistaking her significant man- 
 ner ; but he was indifferent to the success of her ap- 
 peal. 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 Ev- 
 erell, " 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 accent caught her father's ear, when he turn- 
 ed to chide her he suppressed his rebuke, for she sat 
 motionless, and silent as a statue. 
 
 The party were swiftly conveyed to the opposite
 
 HOPE LESLIE. lH 
 
 shore. The canoe was then again taken from the 
 river and plunged into the wood ; and beheving 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 in- 
 tersecting branches of willows, sycamores, and elms. 
 
 Oneco collected dead leaves from the little hol- 
 lows, 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 w^ood-nymph. The Mohawks re- 
 garded 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 moth- 
 er. 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 trickkd 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 sung her to 
 sleep. 
 
 The Indians refreshed themselves with pounded 
 maize and dried fish. A boyish appetite is not fas- 
 tidious, and, with a mind at ease, Everell might have 
 relished this coarse fare ; but now, though repeated- 
 ly solicited, he would not even rise from the ground 
 where he had thrown himself in listless despair. No
 
 112 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 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, w^ho sat 
 apart from the rest, her mantle wrapped closely 
 around her, her head leaning against a tree, and ap- 
 parently 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 aw^akening them. 
 But love, mercy, and hope count nothing impossible, 
 and all Avere 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 
 EverelPs head, stooped down, and putting her lips 
 close to his ear, pronounced his name distinctly. 
 Most persons have experienced the power of a name 
 thus pronounced. Everell awakened instantly and 
 perfectly, and at once understood from Magawisca's 
 gestures, for speak again she dared not, that she 
 urged his departure. 
 
 The love of life and safety is too strong to be par- 
 alyzed for any length of time. Hope was kindled ; 
 extrication and escape seemed possible ; quickening 
 thoughts rushed through his mind. He might be 
 restored to his father; Springfield could not be far 
 distant ; his captors would not dare to remain in that 
 vicinity after the dawn of day ; one half hour, and
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 113 
 
 he was beyond their pursuit. He rose slowly and 
 cautiously to his feet. All was yet profoundly still. 
 He glanced his eye on Faith Leslie, whom he would 
 gladly have rescued ; but Magawisca shook her head, 
 and he felt that to attempt it would be to ensure his 
 own failure. 
 
 The moon shone through the branches of the trees, 
 and shed a faint and quivering light on the wild 
 group. Everell looked cautiously about him to see 
 where he should plant his first footsteps. " If I 
 should tread on those skins," he thought, " that are 
 about them, or on those rustling leaves, it were a gone 
 case with me." During this instant of deliberation, 
 one of the Indians murmured something of his dream- 
 ing thoughts, turned himself over, and grasped Ev- 
 erell's ankle. The boy bit his quivering lip, and sup- 
 pressed an instinctive cry, for he perceived it was but 
 the movement of sleep, and he felt the hold gradu- 
 ally relaxing. He exchanged a glance of joy w^ith 
 Magawisca, when a new source of alarm startled 
 them : they heard the dashing of oars. Breathless — 
 immovable — they listened. The strokes were quick- 
 ly repeated, and the sounds rapidly approached, and 
 a voice spoke, " Not there, boys, not there 3 a little 
 higher up." 
 
 Joy and hope shot through Everell's heart as he 
 sprang Uke a startled deer ; but the Mohawk, awa- 
 kened too by the noise, grasped his leg with one 
 hand, and with the other drawing his knife from his 
 girdle, he pointed it at Everell's heart, in the act to 
 strike if he should make the least movement or sound. 
 K 2
 
 114 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Caution is the instinct of the weaker animals ; the 
 Indian cannot be surprised out of his wariness. 
 Mononotto and his companions, thus suddenly awa- 
 kened, remained as fixed and silent as the trees about 
 them. 
 
 The men in the canoes suspended their oars for a 
 moment, and seemed at a loss how to proceed, or 
 whether to proceed at all. " It is a risky business, I 
 can tell you, Digby," said one of them, " to plunge 
 into those woods ; ' it is ill fighting with wild beasts 
 in their own den ;' they may start out upon us from 
 their holes when we are least looking for them." 
 
 " And if they should," replied Digby, in the voice 
 of one who would fain enforce reason with persua- 
 sion, " if they should, Lawrence, are we not six stout 
 Christian men, with bold hearts, and the Lord on our 
 side to boot ?' 
 
 " I grant ye, that's fighting at odds ; but I mistrust 
 we have no command from the Lord to come out on 
 this wild-goose chase." 
 
 " I take a known duty," replied Digby, " always 
 to be a command from the Lord, and you, Lawrence, 
 1 am sure, will be as ready as another man to serve 
 under such an order." 
 
 Lawrence was silenced for a moment, and anoth- 
 er voice spoke : " Yes, so should we all. Master Dig- 
 by, if you could make out the order ; but I can't see 
 the sense of risking all our lives, and getting but a 
 * thank ye for nothing' when we get back, if, in- 
 deed, we ever get out of the bowels of the forest 
 again into a clearing. To be sure, we've tracked
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 115 
 
 them thus far, but now, on the river, we lose scent. 
 You know they thread the forest as handily as my 
 good woman threads her needle ; and for us to pur- 
 sue them is as vain a thing as for my old chimney- 
 corner cat to chase a catamount through the woods. 
 Come, come, let's head about, and give it up for a 
 bad job." 
 
 " Stop, stop, my friends," cried Digby, as they 
 were about to put the boat around ; " ye surely have 
 not all faint hearts. Feare-naught, you will not so 
 belie your Christian name as to turn your back on 
 danger. And you, John Wilkin, who cut down the 
 Pequods as you were wont to mow the swarth in 
 Suffolk, will you have it thrown up to you that you 
 wanted courage to pursue the caitiffs ? Go home, 
 Lawrence, and take your curly-pated boy on your 
 knee, and thank God, with what heart you may, for 
 his spared life ; and all, all of you, go to that child- 
 less man at Bethel, and say, ' We could not brave 
 the terrors of the forest to save your child, for we 
 have pleasant homes, and wives, and children.' For 
 myself, the Lord helping, while I've life I'll not turn 
 back without the boy ; and if there's one among you 
 that hopes for God's pity, let him go with me." 
 
 " Why, I'm sure it was not I that proposed going 
 back," said Lawrence. 
 
 " And I'm sure," said the second speaker, " that 
 I'm willing, if the rest are, to try our luck farther." 
 
 " Now God above reward ye, my good fellows !" 
 cried Digby, with renewed life ; " I knew it was but 
 tryi:ig your metal to find it true. It is not reason-
 
 116 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 able that you should feel as I do, who have seen my 
 master's home looking like a slaughter-house. My 
 mistress— the gentlest and the best! — oh! it's too 
 much to think of. And then that boy, that's worth 
 a legion of such men as w^e are — of such as I, I 
 mean. But come, let's pull away, a little farther 
 up the stream 5 there's no landing here, w^here the 
 bank is so steep." 
 
 " Stay ! row a little closer," cried one of the men ; 
 " I see something like a track on the very edge of 
 the bank ; its being seemingly impossible is the very 
 reason why the savages would have chosen it." 
 
 They now approached so near the shore that Ev- 
 erell knew they might hear a whisper, and yet to 
 move his lips was certain death. Those who have 
 experienced the agony of a nightmare, when life 
 seemed to depend on a single word, and that word 
 could not be pronounced, may conceive his emotions 
 at this trying moment. Friends and rescue so near, 
 and so unavailing. 
 
 " Ye are mistaken," said another of the pursuing 
 party, after a moment's investigation, " it's but a 
 heron's track," which it truly was ; for the savages 
 had been careful not to leave the slightest trace of 
 their footsteps where they landed. '^ There's a cove 
 a little higher up," continued the speaker ; " we'll 
 put in there, and then, if w^e don't get on their trail, 
 Master Digby must tell us what to do." 
 
 " It's plain w^hat we must do then," said Digby, 
 " go straight on westerly. I have a compass, you 
 know j there is not, as the hunters tell us, a single
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 117 
 
 smoke between this and the valleys of the Housatonic. 
 There the tribes are friendly, and if we reach them 
 without falling in with our enemy, we will not pur- 
 sue them farther." 
 
 " Agreed ! agreed !" cried all the men ; and they 
 again dashed in their oars and made for the cove. 
 Everell's heart sunk within him as the sounds rece- 
 ded ; but hope once admitted will not be again ex- 
 cluded, and with the sanguine temperament of youth, 
 he was already mentally calculating the chances of 
 escape. Not so Magawisca ; she knew the dangers 
 that beset him ; she was aware of her father's de- 
 termined purpose. Her heart had again been rent 
 by a divided duty ; one word from her would have 
 rescued Everell, but that word would have been 
 death to her father ; and when the boat retired, she 
 sunk to the ground, quite spent with the conflict of 
 her feelings. 
 
 It may seem strange that the Indians did not avail 
 themselves of the advantage of their ambush to at- 
 tack their pursuers ; but it will be remembered, the 
 latter were double their number ; and, besides, Mon- 
 onotto's object now was to make good his retreat 
 with his children ; and to effect this, it was essen- 
 tial he should avoid any encounter with his pursuers. 
 After a short consultation with his associates, they 
 determined to remain in their present position till the 
 morning. They were confident they should be able 
 to detect and avoid the track of the enemy, and 
 soon to get in advance of them.
 
 118 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " But the scene 
 Is lovely round ; a beautiful river there 
 Wanders amid the fresh and fertile meads, 
 The paradise he made unto himself, 
 Mining the soil for ages. On each side 
 The fields swell upv^^ard to the hills ; beyond, 
 Above the hills, in the blue distance, rise 
 The mighty columns with which earth props heaven. 
 
 There is a tale about these gray old rocks, 
 A sad tradition." Bryant. 
 
 It is not our purpose to describe, step by step, the 
 progress of the Indian fugitives. Their sagacity in 
 traversing their native forests, their skill in following 
 and eluding an enemy, and all their politic devices, 
 have been so well described in a recent popular work, 
 that their usages have become famihar as household 
 words, and nothing remains but to shelter defects ot 
 skill and knowledge under the veil of silence, since 
 we hold it to be an immutable maxim, that a thing 
 had better not be done than be ill done. 
 
 Suffice it to say, then, that the savages, after 
 crossing the track of their pursuers, threaded the for- 
 est with as little apparent uncertainty as to their path 
 as is now felt by travellers who pass through the 
 same still romantic country in a stagecoach and on 
 a broad turnpike. As they receded from the Con- 
 necticut the pine levels disappeared, the country was 
 broken into hills, and rose into high mountains.
 
 HOI^E LESLIE. llS) 
 
 They traversed the precipitous sides of a river that, 
 swollen by the vernal rains, wound its way among 
 the hills, foaming and raging like an angry monarch. 
 The river, as they traced its course, dwindled to a 
 mountain rill, but still retaining its impetuous char- 
 acter, leaping and tumbling for miles through a de- 
 scending defile, between high mountains, wdiose 
 stillness, grandeur, and immobility contrasted with 
 the noisy, reckless little stream as stern manhood 
 with infancy. In one place, which the Indians call- 
 ed the throat of the mountain, they w^ere obliged to 
 betake themselves to the channel of the brook, there 
 not being room on its margin for a footpath. The 
 branches of the trees that grew from the rocky and 
 precipitous declivities on each side met and inter- 
 laced, forming a sylvan canopy over the imprisoned 
 stream. To INIagawisca, whose imagination breath- 
 ed a living spirit into all the objects of Nature, it 
 seemed as if the spirits of the w^ood had stooped to 
 listen to its sweet music. 
 
 After tracing this little sociable rill to its source, 
 they again plunged into the silent forest, waded 
 through marshy ravines, and mounted to the summits . 
 of steril hills, till at length, at the close of the third 
 day, after having gradually descended for several 
 miles, the hills on one side receded, and left a httle 
 interval of meadow, through w^hich they wound into 
 the lower valley of the Housatonic. 
 
 This continued and difficult march had been sus- 
 tained by Everell with a spirit and fortitude that ev- 
 idently won the favour of the savages, who always
 
 I'SO fiOPE LESLlfi. 
 
 render homage to superiority over physical evil. 
 There was something more than this common feel- 
 ing in the joy with which Mononotto noted the boy's 
 silent endurance, and even contempt of pain. One 
 noble victim seemed to him better than a " human 
 hecatomb." In proportion to his exultation in pos- 
 sessing an object worthy to avenge his son, was his 
 fear that his victim would escape from him. During 
 the march, Everell had twice, aided by Magawisca, 
 nearly achieved his liberty. These detected conspir- 
 acies, though defeated, rendered the chief impatient 
 to execute his vengeance, and he secretly resolved 
 that it should not be delayed longer than the mor- 
 row. 
 
 As the fugitives emerged from the narrow dejflle, 
 a new scene opened upon them ; a scene of valley 
 and hill, river and meadow, surrounded by mountains, 
 whose encircling embrace expressed protection and 
 love to the gentle spirits of the valley. A light 
 summer shower had just fallen, and the clouds, " in 
 thousand liveries dight," had risen from the western 
 horizon, and hung their rich draperies about the clear 
 sun. The horizontal rays passed over the valley, 
 and flushed the upper branches of the trees, the sum- 
 mits of the hills, and the mountains with a flood of 
 light, while the low grounds, reposing in deep shad- 
 ow, presented one of those striking and accidental 
 contrasts in nature that a painter would have select- 
 ed to give effect to his art. 
 
 The gentle Housatonic wound through the depths 
 of the valley, in some parts contracted to a narrow
 
 ilOPE LESLIE. 121 
 
 channel, and murmuring* over the rocks that rippled 
 its surface, and in others spreading wide its clear 
 mirror, and lingering like a lover amid the vines, 
 trees, and flowers that fringed its banks. Thus it 
 flows now^ j but not, as then, in the s^dvan freedom 
 of Nature, when no clattering mills and bustling fac- 
 tories threw their prosaic shadows over the silver 
 waters; when not even a bridge spanned their bo- 
 som ; when not a trace of man's art was seen, save 
 the little bark canoe that glided over them, or lay 
 idly moored along the shore. The savage was rather 
 the vassal than the master of nature, obeying her 
 laws, but never usurping her dominion. He only 
 used the land she prepared, and cast in his corn but 
 where she seemed to invite him by mellowing and 
 upheaving the rich mould. He did not presume to 
 hew down her trees, the proud crest of her uplands, 
 and convert them into " russet lawns and fallows 
 gray." The axeman's stroke, that music to the set- 
 tler^s ear, never then violated the peace of Nature, or 
 made discord- in her music. 
 
 Imagination may be indulged in lingering for a 
 moment in those dusky regions of the past, but it is 
 not permitted to reasonable, instructed man to admire 
 or regret tribes of human beings who lived and died, 
 leaving scarcely a more enduring memorial than the 
 forsaken nest that vanishes before one winter's storms. 
 
 But to return to our wanderers. They had entered 
 the expanded vale by following the windings of the 
 Housatonic around a hill, conical and easy of ascent, 
 excepting on that side which overlooked the river, 
 
 Vol. L— L
 
 12^ HOPE LEStlEi 
 
 where, half way from the base to the summit, rose a 
 perpendicular rock, bearing on its beetling front the 
 age of centuries. On every other side the hill was 
 garlanded with laurels, now in full and profuse 
 bloom, here and there surmounted by an intervening 
 pine, spruce, or hemlock, whose seared winter foli- 
 age was fringed with the bright, tender sprouts of 
 spring. We believe there is a chord even in the 
 heart of savage man that responds to the voice of 
 Nature. Certain it is, the party paused, as it appear- 
 ed, from a common instinct, at a little grassy nook, 
 formed by the curve of the hill, to gaze on this sin- 
 gularly beautiful spot. Everell looked on the smoke 
 that curled from the huts of the village, imbosomed 
 in pine-trees on the adjacent plain. The scene to 
 him breathed peace and happiness, and gushing 
 thoughts of home filled his eyes with tears. Oneco 
 plucked clusters of laurels, and decked his little fa- 
 vourite, and the ojd chief fixed his melancholy eye 
 on a solitary pine, scathed and blasted by tempests, 
 that, rooted in the ground where he stood, lifted its 
 topmost branches to the bare rock, where they seem- 
 ed, in their wild desolation, to brave the elemental 
 fury that had stripped them of beauty and life. 
 
 The leafless tree was truly, as it appeared to the 
 eye of Mononotto, a fit emblem of the chieftain of a 
 ruined tribe. " See you, child," he said, addressing 
 Magawisca, " those unearthed roots ? the tree must 
 fall : hear you the death-song that wails through 
 those blasted branches ?" 
 
 " Nay, father, listen not to the sad strain ', it is
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 123 
 
 but the spirit of the tree mourning over its decay ; 
 rather turn thine ear to the glad song of this bright 
 stream, image of the good. She nourishes the aged 
 trees, and cherishes the tender flowerets, and her song 
 is ever of happiness till she reaches the great sea, 
 image of our eternity." 
 
 *' Speak not to me of happiness, Magawisca ; it 
 has vanished with the smoke of our homes. I tell 
 ye, the spirits of our race are gathered about this 
 blasted tree. Samoset points to that rock — that sac- 
 rifice-rock." His keen glance turned from the rock 
 to EverelL 
 
 Magawisca understood its portentous meaning, 
 and she clasped her hands in mute and agonizing 
 supplication. He answered to the silent entreaty. 
 " It is in vain ; my purpose is fixed, and here it shaH 
 be accomplished. Why hast thou linked thy heart, 
 foolish girl, to this English boy ? I have sworn, 
 kneeling on the ashes of our hut, that I would never 
 spare a son of our enemy's race. The lights of heav- 
 en witnessed my vow, and think you that, now this 
 boy is given into my hands to avenge thy brother, I 
 will spare him ? no, not to thy prayer, Magawisca. 
 No; though thou lookest on me with thy mother's 
 eye, and speakest with her voice, I will not break 
 my vow." 
 
 Mononotto had indeed taken a final and fatal res- 
 olution ; and prompted, as he fancied, by supernat- 
 ural intimations, and perhaps dreading the relent- 
 ings of his own heart, he determined on its imme- 
 diate execution. He announced his decision to the
 
 124 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Mohawks. A brief and animated consultation fol- 
 lowed, during which they brandished their toma- 
 hawks, and cast wild and threatening glances at 
 Everell, who at once comprehended the meaning of 
 these menacing looks and gestures. He turned an 
 appealing glance to Magawisca. She did not speak. 
 " Am I to die now ?" he asked ; she turned, shud- 
 dering, from him. 
 
 Everell had expected death from his savage cap- 
 tors, but while it was comparatively distant he 
 thought he was indifferent to it, or, rather, he believ- 
 ed he should welcome it as a release from the horrible 
 recollection of the massacre at Bethel, which haunt- 
 ed him day and night. But, now that his fate seem- 
 ed inevitable, nature was appalled, and shrunk from 
 it, and the impassive spirit for a moment endured 
 a pang that there cannot be in any " corp'ral suffer- 
 ance." The avenues of sense were closed, and past 
 and future w^ere present to the mind, as if it were 
 already invested with the attributes of its eternity. 
 From this agonizing excitement Everell was roused 
 by a command from the savages to move onward. 
 "It is then deferred," thought Magawisca; and 
 heaving a deep sigh, as if for a moment relieved 
 from a pressure on her overburdened heart, she 
 looked to her father for an explanation; he said 
 nothing, but proceeded in silence towards the village. 
 The lower valley of the Housatonic, at the period 
 to which our history refers, was inhabited by a peace- 
 ful, and, as far as that epithet could ever be applied 
 to our savages, an agricultural tribe, whose territory,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 125 
 
 situate midway between the Hudson and the Con- 
 necticut, was bounded and defended on each side 
 by mountains then deemed impracticable to a foe. 
 These inland people had heard from the hunters of 
 distant tribes, who occasionally visited them, of the 
 aggressions and hostility of the English strangers; 
 but, regarding it as no concern of theirs, they listened 
 much as we listen to news of the Burmese war — 
 Captain Symmes' theory — or lectures on phrenology. 
 One of their hunters, it is true, had penetrated to 
 Springfield, and another had passed over the hills to 
 the Dutch fort at Albany, and returned with the re- 
 port that the strangers' skin was the colour of cow- 
 ardice ; that they served their women, and spoke an 
 miinteUigible language. There was little in this ac- 
 count to interest those who were so ignorant as to be 
 scarcely susceptible of curiosity, and they hardly 
 thought of the dangerous strangers at all, or only 
 thought of them as a people from whom they had 
 nothing to hope or fear, when the appearance of the 
 ruined Pequod chief with his English captives roused 
 them from their apathy. 
 
 The village was on a level, sandy plain, extend- 
 ing for about half a mile, and raised by a natural 
 and almost perpendicular bank fifty feet above the 
 level of the meadows. At one extremity of the plain 
 was the hill we have described ; the other was ter- 
 minated by a broad green, appropriated to sports 
 and councils. 
 
 The huts of the savages were irregularly scattered 
 over the plain : some on cleared ground, and others 
 L2
 
 126 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 just peeping out of copses of pine trees; some on 
 the very verge of the plain, overlooking the mead- 
 ows, and others under the shelter of a high hill 
 that formed the northern boundary of the valley, 
 and seemed stationed there to defend the inhabitants 
 from their natural enemies, cold and wind. 
 
 The huts were the simplest structures of human 
 art ; but, as in no natural condition of society a per- 
 fect equality obtains, some were more spacious and 
 commodious than others. All were made with flex- 
 ible poles, firmly set in the ground, and drawn and 
 attached together at the top. Those of the more in- 
 dolent or least skilful were filled in with branches 
 of trees and hung over with coarse mats, while 
 those of the better order were neatly covered with 
 bark, prepared with art and considerable labour for 
 the purpose. Little garden patches adjoined a few 
 of the dwellings, and were planted with beans, 
 pumpkins, and squashes ; the seeds of these vegeta- 
 bles, according to an Indian tradition (in which w^e 
 may perceive the usual admixture of fable and truth), 
 having been sent to them in the bill of a bird from 
 the southwest by the Great Spirit. 
 
 The Pequod chief and his retinue passed just at 
 twilight over the plain, by one of the many foot- 
 paths that indented it. Many of the w^omen were 
 still at work with their stone-pointed hoes in their 
 gardens. Some of the men and children were at 
 their sports on the green. Here a straggler w^as 
 coming from the river with a string of fine trout; 
 another fortunate sportsman appeared from the hill-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 127 
 
 side with wild turkeys and partridges; while two 
 emerged from the forest with still more noble game, 
 a fat antlered buck. 
 
 This village, as we have described it, and perhaps 
 from the affection its natural beauty inspired, re- 
 mained the residence of the savages long after they 
 had vanished from the surrounding country. With- 
 in the memory of the present generation the remnant 
 of the tribe migrated to the West; and even now 
 some of their famihes make a summer pilgrimage to 
 this their Jerusalem, and are regarded with a mel- 
 ancholy interest by the present occupants of the soil. 
 
 Mononotto directed his steps to the wigwam of 
 the Housatonic chief, which stood on one side of the 
 green. The chief advanced from his hut to receive 
 him, and by the most animated gestures expressed 
 to Mononotto his pleasure in the success of his in- 
 cursion, from which it seemed that Mononotto had 
 communicated with him on his way to the Connec- 
 ticut. 
 
 A brief and secret consultation succeeded, which 
 appeared to consist of propositions from the Pequod, 
 and assent on the part of the Housatonic chief, and 
 w^as immediately followed by a motion to separate 
 the travellers. Mononotto and Everell w^ere to re- 
 main with the chief, and the rest of the party to be 
 conducted to the hut of his sister. 
 
 Magawisca's prophetic spirit too truly interpreted 
 this arrangement; and thinking or hoping there 
 might be some saving power in her presence, since 
 her father tacitly acknowledged it by the pains he
 
 128 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 took to remove her, she refused to leave him. He 
 insisted vehemently ; but, finding her unyielding, he 
 commanded the Mohawks to force her away. 
 
 Resistance was vain, but resistance she would still 
 have made but for the interposition of Everell. *' Go 
 with them, Magawisca," he said, '^ and leave me to 
 my fate. We shall meet again." 
 
 " Never !" she shrieked ; " your fate is death." 
 
 " And after death we shall meet again," replied 
 Everell, with a calmness that evinced his mind was 
 already in a great degree resigned to the event that 
 now appeared inevitable. " Do not fear for me, 
 Magawisca. Better thoughts have put down my 
 fears. When it is over, think of me." 
 
 " And what am I to do with this scorching fire 
 till then V she asked, pressing both her hands on her 
 head. " Oh, my father, has your heart become 
 stone V 
 
 Her father turned from her appeal, and motioned 
 to Everell to enter the hut. Everell obeyed ; and 
 when the mat dropped over the entrance and sep- 
 arated him from the generous creature whose heart 
 had kept true time with his through all his griefs, 
 who he knew would have redeemed his life with her 
 own, he yielded to a burst of natural and not unman- 
 ly tears. 
 
 If this could be deemed a weakness, it was his last. 
 Alone with his God, he realized the sufficiency of His 
 presence and favour. He appealed to that mercy 
 which is never refused, nor given in stinted measure 
 to the humble suppliant. Every expression of pious
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 129 
 
 confidence and resignation which he had heard with 
 the heedless ear of childhood, now flashed like an il- 
 lumination upon his mind. 
 
 His mother's counsels and instructions, to which he 
 had often lent a wearied attention ; the passages from 
 the Sacred Book he had been compelled to commit 
 to memory when his truant thoughts were ranging 
 forest and field, now returned upon him as if a celes- 
 tial spirit breathed them into his soul. Stillness and 
 peace stole over him. He was amazed at his own 
 tranquillity. " It may be," he thought, " that my 
 mother is permitted to minister to me." 
 
 He might have been agitated by the admission of 
 the least ray of hope ; but hope was utterly exclu- 
 ded, and it was only when he thought of his bereft 
 father that his courage failed him. 
 
 But we must leave him to his solitude and silence, 
 only interrupted by the distant hootings of the owl 
 and the heavy tread of the Pequod chief, who spent 
 the night in slowly pacing before the door of the hut. 
 
 Magawisca and her companions were conducted 
 to a wigwam standing on that part of the plain on 
 which they had first entered. It was completely en- 
 closed on three sides by dwarf oaks. In front there 
 was a little plantation of the edible luxuries of the 
 savages. On entering the hut they perceived it had 
 but one occupant, a sick, emaciated old woman, who 
 was stretched on her mat, covered with skins. She 
 raised her head as the strangers entered, and at the 
 sight of Faith Leslie uttered a faint exclamation, 
 deeming the fair creature a messenger from the spir-
 
 130 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 it-land; but, being informed who they were and 
 whence they came, she made every sign and expres- 
 sion of courtesy to them that her feeble strength per- 
 mitted. 
 
 Her hut contained all that was essential to savage 
 hospitality. A few brands were burning on a hearth- 
 stone in the middle of the apartment. The smoke 
 that found egress passed out by a hole in the centre 
 of the roof, over which a mat was skilfully adjusted, 
 and turned to the windward side by a cord that hung 
 within. The old w^oman, in her long pilgrimage, 
 had accumulated stores of Indian riches : piles of 
 sleeping-mats lay in one corner ; nicely-dressed skins 
 garnished the walls ; baskets of all shapes and sizes, 
 gayly decorated with rude images of birds and flow- 
 ers, contained dried fruits, medicinal herbs, Indian 
 corn, nuts, and game. A covered pail, made of folds 
 of birch bark, w^as filled wuth a kind of beer — a de- 
 coction of various roots and aromatic shrubs. Neat- 
 ly-turned w^ooden spoons and bowls, and culinary 
 utensijs of clay, supplied all the demands of the in- 
 artificial housewifery of savage life. 
 
 The travellers, directed by their old hostess, pre- 
 pared their evening repast — a short and simple pro- 
 cess to an Indian ; and, having satisfied the cravings 
 of hunger, they were all, with the exception of Mag- 
 awisca and one of the Mohawks, in a very short time 
 stretched on their mats and fast asleep. 
 
 Magawisca seated herself at the feet of the old 
 woman, and had neither spoken nor moved since she 
 entered the hut. She watched anxiously and impa-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 131 
 
 tientlythe movements of the Indian, whose appoint- 
 ed duty it appeared to be to guard her. He placed 
 a wooden bench against the mat which served for a 
 door, and stuffing his pipe with tobacco from a pouch 
 slung over his shoulder, and then filling a gourd with 
 the liquor in the pail, and placing it beside him, he 
 quietly sat himself down to his night-watch. 
 
 The oltl woman became restless, and her loud and 
 repeated groans at last withdrew Magawisca from 
 her own miserable thoughts. She inquired if she 
 could do aught to allay her pain ; the sufferer point- 
 ed to a jar that stood on the embers, in which a me- 
 dicinal preparation was simmering. She motioned to 
 Magawisca to give her a spoonful of the hquor ; she 
 did so ; and as she took it, " It is made," she said, 
 " of all the plants on which the spirit of sleep has 
 breathed :" and so it seemed to be, for she had 
 scarcely swallowed it when she fell asleep. 
 
 Once or twice she waked and murmured something, 
 and once Magawisca heard her say, " Hark to the 
 wekolis P he is perched on the old oak by the sacri- 
 fice-rock, and his cry is neither musical nor merry : 
 a bad sign in a bird." 
 
 But all signs and portents were alike to Magawis- 
 ca ; every sound rung a death-peal to her ear, and 
 the hissing silence had in it the mystery and fearful- 
 ness of death. The night wore slowly and painfully 
 away, as if, as in the fairy tale, the moments were 
 counted by drops of heart's blood. But the most 
 wearisome nights will end ; the morning approach* 
 
 « Whippoorwill.
 
 13^ HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ed ; the familiar notes of the birds of earhest dawn 
 were heard, and the twilight peeped through the 
 crevices of the hut, when a new sound fell on Mag- 
 awisca's startled ear. It was the slow, measured 
 tread of many feet. The poor girl now broke silence, 
 and vehemently entreated the Mohawk to let her pass 
 the door, or at least to raise the mat. 
 
 He shook his head with a look of unconcern, as 
 if it were the petulant demand of a child, when the 
 old woman, awakened by the noise, cried out that 
 she was dying ; that she must have light and air ; and 
 the Mohawk started up, impulsively, to raise the mat. 
 It was held between two poles that formed the door- 
 posts ; and, while he was disengaging it, Magawisca, 
 as if inspired, and quick as thought, poured the li- 
 quor from the jar on the fire into the hollow of her 
 hand, and dashed it into the gourd which the Mo- 
 hawk had just replenished. The narcotic was boil- 
 ing hot, but she did not cringe ; she did not even 
 feel it; and she could scarcely repress a cry of joy 
 when the savage turned round and swallowed, at one 
 draught, the contents of the cup. 
 
 Magawisca looked eagerly through the aperture, 
 but, though the sound of the footsteps had approach- 
 ed nearer, she saw no one. She saw nothing but a 
 gentle declivity that sloped to the plain, a few yards 
 from the hut, and was covered with a grove of trees ; 
 beyond and peering above them were the hill and 
 the sacrifice-rock ; the morning star, its rays not yet 
 dimmed in the light of day, shed a soft trembling 
 beam on its summit. This beautiful star, alone in
 
 MOPE LESLIE. 133 
 
 the heavens when all other lights were quenched, 
 spoke to the superstitious, or, rather, the imagina- 
 tive spirit of Magawisca. " Star of promise," she 
 thought, " thou dost still linger with us when day is 
 vanished, and now thou art there alone to proclaim 
 the coming sun ; thou dost send in upon my soul a 
 ray of hope ; and though it be but as the spider's 
 slender pathway, it shall sustain my courage." She 
 had scarcely formed this resolution when she needed 
 all its efficacy, for the train whose footsteps she had 
 heard appeared in full view. 
 
 First came her father, with the Housatonic chief; 
 next, alone, and walking with a firm, undaunted step, 
 was Everell, his arms folded over his breast, and his 
 head a little inclined upward, so that Magawisca 
 fancied she saw his full eye turned heavenward; 
 after him walked all the men of the tribe, ranged 
 according to their age, and the rank assigned to each 
 by his own exploits. 
 
 They were neither painted nor ornamented ac- 
 cording to the common usage at festivals and sacri- 
 fices, but everything had the air of hasty preparation 
 Magawisca gazed in speechless despair. The pro- 
 cession entered the wood, and for a few moments dis- 
 appeared from her sight; again they were visible, 
 mounting the acclivity of the hill by a winding, nar- 
 row footpath, shaded on either side by laurels. 
 They now walked singly and slowly, but to Maga- 
 w^isca their progress seemed rapid as a falling ava- 
 lanche. She felt that, if she were to remain pent in 
 that prison-house, her heart would burst, and she 
 
 Vol. L— M
 
 134 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 sprang towards. the doorway in the hope of clearing 
 her passage ; but the Mohawk caught her arm in his 
 iron grasp, and putting her back, calmly retained his 
 station. She threw herself on her knees to him; 
 she entreated, she wept, but in vain : he looked on 
 her with unmoved apathy. Already she saw the 
 foremost of the party had reached the rock, and 
 were forming a semicircle around it : again she ap- 
 pealed to her determined keeper, and again he de- 
 nied her petition, but with a faltering tongue and a 
 drooping eye. 
 
 Magawisca, in the urgency of a necessity that 
 could brook no delay, had forgotten, or regarded as 
 useless, the sleeping potion she had infused into the 
 Mohawk's draught ; she now saw the powerful agent 
 was at w^ork for her, and with that quickness of ap- 
 prehension that made the operations of her mind as 
 rapid as the impulses of instinct, she perceived that 
 every emotion she excited but hindered the effect of 
 the potion. Suddenly seeming to relinquish all pur- 
 pose and hope of escape, she threw herself on a mat, 
 and hid her face, burning with agonizing impatience, 
 in her mantle. There we must leave her, and join 
 that fearful company who were gathered together to 
 witness what they believed to be the execution of 
 exact and necessary justice. 
 
 Seated around their sacrifice-rock — their holy of 
 holies — they listened to the sad story of the Pequod 
 chief with dejected countenances and downcast eyes, 
 save when an involuntary glance turned on Everell, 
 who stood awaiting his fate, cruelly aggravated by
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 135 
 
 every moment's delay, with a quiet dignity and calm 
 resignation that would have become a hero or a 
 saint. Surrounded by this dark cloud of savages, 
 his fair countenance kindled by holy inspiration, he 
 looked scarcely like a creature of earth. 
 
 There might have been among the spectators 
 some who felt the silent appeal of the helpless, cour- 
 ageous boy ; some whose hearts moved them to in- 
 terpose to save the selected victim ; but they were 
 restrained by their interpretation of natural justice, 
 as controlling to them as our artificial codes of laws 
 to us. 
 
 Others, of a more cruel or more irritable disposi- 
 tion, when the Pequod described his wrongs and de- 
 picted his sufferings, brandished their tomahawks, 
 and would have hurled them at the boy ; but the 
 chief said, " Nay, brothers, the work is mine ; he 
 dies by my hand — for my first-born — life for life ; 
 he dies by a single stroke, for thus was my boy cut 
 off. The blood of sachems is in his veins. He has 
 the skin, but not the soul of that maxed race, whose 
 gratitude is like that vanishing mist," and he point- 
 ed to the vapour that was melting from the mount- 
 ain tops into the transparent ether ; " and their prom- 
 ises like this," and he snapped a dead branch from 
 the pine beside which he stood, and broke it in frag- 
 ments. " Boy as he is, he fought for his mother as 
 the eagle fights for its young. I watched him in 
 the mountain-path, when the blood gushed from his 
 torn feet ; not a word from his smooth lip betrayed 
 his pain."
 
 136 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Mononotto embellished his victim with praises, as 
 the ancients wreathed theirs with flowers. He bran- 
 dished his hatchet over Everell's head, and cried ex- 
 ultingly, " See, he flinches not. Thus stood my boy 
 when they flashed their sabres before his eyes and 
 bade him betray his father. Brothers : My people 
 have -told me I bore a woman's heart towards the 
 enemy. Ye shall see. I will pour out this English 
 boy's blood to the last drop, and give his flesh and 
 bones to the dogs and wolves." 
 
 He then motioned to Everell to prostrate himself 
 on the rock, his face downward. In this position 
 the boy would not see the descending stroke. Even 
 at this moment of dire vengeance the instincts of a 
 merciful nature asserted their rights. 
 
 Everell sunk calmly on his knees, not to supplicate 
 life, but to commend his soul to God. He clasped 
 his hands together. He did not — he could not 
 speak ; his soul was 
 
 •' Rapt in still communion, that transcends 
 The imperfect offices of prayer." 
 
 At this moment a sunbeam penetrated the trees 
 that enclosed the area, and fell athwart his brow 
 and hair, kindling it with an almost supernatural 
 brightness. To the savages, this was a token that 
 the victim was accepted, and they sent forth a shout 
 that rent the air. Everell bent forward and pressed 
 his forehead to the rock. The chief raised the dead- 
 ly weapon, when Magawisca, springing from the pre- 
 cipitous side of the rock, screamed " Forbear !" and 
 interposed her arm. It was too late. The blow
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 137 
 
 was levelled — force and direction given ; the stroke, 
 aimed at Everell's neck, severed his defender's arm, 
 and left him unharmed. The lopped, quivering 
 member dropped over the precipice. Mononotto 
 staggered and fell senseless, and all the savages, ut- 
 tering horrible yells, rushed towards the fatal spot. 
 
 " Stand back 1" cried Magawisca. " I have 
 bought his life with my ow^n. Fly, Everell — nay, 
 speak not, but fly — thither — to the east !" she cried, 
 more vehemently. 
 
 Everell's faculties were paralyzed by a rapid suc- 
 cession of violent emotions. He was conscious only 
 of a feehng of mingled gratitude and admiration for 
 his preserver. He stood motionless, gazing on her. 
 " I die in vain, then," she cried, in an accent of such 
 despair that he was roused. He threw his arms 
 around her, and pressed her to his heart as he would 
 a sister that had redeemed his life with her own, and 
 then, tearing himself from her, he disappeared. No 
 one offered to follow him. The voice of nature rose 
 from every heart, and, responding to the justice of 
 Magawisca's claim, bade him " God speed !" To 
 all it seemed that his deliverance had been achieved 
 by miraculous aid. All — the dullest and coldest — 
 paid involuntary homage to the heroic girl, as if she 
 were a superior being, guided and upheld by super- 
 natural power. 
 
 Everything short of miracle she had achieved. 
 The moment the opiate dulled the senses of her keep- 
 er, she escaped from the hut ; and aware that, if she 
 attempted to penetrate to her father through the 
 M2
 
 138 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 semicircular line of spectators that enclosed him, 
 she should be repulsed, and probably borne off the 
 ground, she had taken the desperate resolution of 
 mounting the rock where only her approach would 
 be unperceived. She did not stop to ask herself if 
 it were possible ; but, impelled by a determined spirit, 
 or rather, we would believe, by that inspiration that 
 teaches the bird its unknown path, and leads the 
 goat, with its young, safely over the mountain crags, 
 she ascended the rock. There were crevices in it, 
 but they seemed scarcely sufficient to support the 
 eagle with his grappling talon ; and twigs issuing 
 from the fissures, but so slender that they waved 
 like a blade of grass under the weight of the young 
 birds that made a rest on them ; and yet, such is the 
 power of love, stronger than death, that with these 
 inadequate helps Magawisca scaled the rock and 
 achieved her generous purpose.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 139 
 
 CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 " Powwow~a priest. These do begin and order their service and 
 invocation of their gods, and all the people follow, and join inter- 
 changeably in a laborious bodily service unto sweating, especially 
 of the priest, who spends himself in strange antic gestures and ac- 
 tions even unto fainting. Being once in their houses and beholding 
 what their worship was, I never durst be an eyewitness, spectator, 
 or looker-on, lest I should have been a partaker of Satan's inventions 
 and worships."— Roger Willia.ms. 
 
 The following letter, written by Hope Leslie, and 
 addressed to Everell Fletcher, then residing in Eng- 
 land, will show, briefly, the state of affairs at Bethel 
 seven years subsequent to the date of the events al- 
 ready detailed. Little had occurred, save the chan- 
 ges of the seasons in nature and human life, to mark 
 the progress of time. 
 
 " Dear Everell : 
 
 " This is the fifth anniversary of the day you left 
 us — your birthday too, you know ; so we celebrate 
 it, but with a blended joy and grief, which, as my dear 
 guardian says, is suitable to the mixed condition of 
 human life. 
 
 " I surprised him this morning with a painting on 
 which I had expended much tim.e and laid out all 
 my poor skill. The scene is a forest glade ; a boy 
 is sleeping under a birch tree, near a thicket of hazel
 
 140 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 bushes, and from their deepest shadow peeps a gaunt 
 wolf, in the act of springing on him ; while, just 
 emerging from the depths of the wood, in the back- 
 ground, appears a man with a musket levelled at the 
 animal. I had placed the painting on the mantel- 
 piece, and it caught your father's eye as he entered 
 to attend our morning exercise. He said nothing, 
 for you know the order of our devotions is as strict- 
 ly observed as were the services of the ancient Tem- 
 ple. So we all took our accustomed places: I 
 mine, on the cushion beside your father ; yours still 
 stands on the other side of him, like the vacant seat 
 of Banquo. Love can paint as well as fear ; and 
 though no form, palpable to common eyes, is seat- 
 ed there, yet, to our second sight, imagination pro- 
 duces from her shadowy regions the form of our dear 
 Everell. 
 
 "I beheve the picture had touched the hidden 
 springs of memory, for your father, though he was 
 reading the chapter of Exodus that speaks of the wise- 
 hearted men who wrought for the sanctuary (a por- 
 tion of scripture not particularly moving), repeated- 
 ly wiped the gathering tears from his eyes. Jennet 
 is never lagging in the demonstration of religious 
 emotion, and I inferred from her responsive hems ! 
 and hahs ! that, as there was no obvious cause for 
 tears, she fancied affecting types were lurking in the 
 Moops and selvages, and tenons and sockets, and 
 fine twined linen' about which your father was read- 
 ing. But when he came, in his prayer, to his cus- 
 tomary mention of his absent child ; when he touch-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 141 
 
 ed upon the time when his habitation was made des- 
 olate, and then upon the deliverance of his son, his 
 only son, from the savage foe and the ravening 
 beast, his voice faltered ; every heart responded ; 
 Digby sobbed aloud; and even my aunt Grafton,'^ 
 whose aversion to standing at her devotions has not 
 diminished with her increasing years, stood a monu- 
 ment of patience till the clock twice told the hour ; 
 though it was but the other day, when she thought 
 your father was drawing to a close, and he started 
 a new topic, that she broke out, after her way of 
 thinking aloud, ' Well, if he is going on t'other tack, 
 I'll sit down.' 
 
 " When the exercise was finished, Digby gave vent 
 to his pleasure. 'There, Jennet,' he said, rubbing 
 his hands exultingly, ' you are always on the look- 
 out for witchcraft. I wonder what you call that 1 
 It is a perfect picture of the place where I found Mr. 
 Everell, as that fellow there, in the frieze jacket, is 
 of me ; and anybody would know that, though they 
 would not expect to see John Digby painted in a 
 picture. To be sure, Mr. Everell does not look quite 
 so pale and famished as he did when I first saw him 
 sleeping under that birch tree : as I live, she has put 
 his name there, just as he had carved it. Well, it 
 will be a kind of a history for Mr. Everell's children, 
 when we, and the forest too, are laid low.' 
 
 " Your father permitted the honest fellow's volu- 
 bility to flow unrepressed ; he himself only said, as 
 he drew me to him and kissed me, ' You have kept a 
 faithful copy of our dear Everell in your memory/
 
 142 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " My honest tutor, Cradock, and my aunt Grafton 
 contended for the honour of my excellence in the art — 
 poor Cradock^ ray Apollo ! He maintained that he 
 had taught me the theory, while aunt Grafton boasted 
 'her knowledge of the practice ; but, alas I the little 
 honour my success reflected on them w^as not worth 
 their contest ; and I did them no injustice in secretly 
 ascribing all m.y skill to the source whence the Co- 
 rinthian maid derived her power to trace, by the secret 
 lamp, the shade of her lover. Affection for my dear 
 Everell and for his father is my inspiration 5 but, I 
 confess, it might never have appeared in the mimic- 
 ry of even this rude painting, if my aunt Grafton had 
 not taken lessons at the Convent of the Chartreux at 
 Paris, and had daily access, as you know she has a 
 thousand times repeated to us, to the paintings of 
 Rossi and Albati in the palace of Fontainebleau. 
 
 " But into w^hat egotism does this epistolary jour- 
 nalizing betray me ? The day is yours, Everell, and 
 I will not speak again of myself. 
 
 "My aunt, meaning to do it what honour she 
 could, had our dinner-table set out with massive sil- 
 ver dishes, engraved with her family's armorial bear- 
 ings. They have never before seen the light in 
 America. Your father smiled at their contrast with 
 our bare w^alls, pine tables, chairs, &c., and said we 
 looked like Attila in his rude hut, surrounded with 
 tbe spoils of Rome; and aunt Grafton, who has a 
 decided taste for all the testimonials of her family 
 grandeur, entered into a warm discussion with Mas- 
 ter Cradock as to how far the new man might law-
 
 HOPE LESlIi:. 143 
 
 fully indulge in a vain show. By-the-way, their 
 skirmishing on the debatable grounds of Church 
 and State have of late almost ceased. When I re- 
 marked this to your father, he said he believed I had 
 brought about the present amicable state of affairs, 
 by affording them a kind of neutral ground, where 
 their common affections and interests met. What- 
 ever has produced this result, it is too happy not to 
 be carefully cherished ; so I have taken care that my 
 poor tutor, who never would intentionally provoke a 
 human being, should avoid, as far as possible, all 
 those peculiarities w^hich, as some colours offend 
 certain animals, w^ere sure every day, and thrice a 
 day, to call forth my aunt's animadversions. I have, 
 too, entered into a secret confederacy with Digby, 
 the effect of which is, that Master Cradock's little 
 brown wig is brushed every morning, and is, at least 
 once each day, straight on his head. The brush has 
 invaded, too, the hitherto unexplored regions of his 
 broadcloth, and his black stock gives place, on every 
 Lord's day at least, to a white collar. Aunt Grafton 
 herself has more than once remarked, that, ' for one 
 of these scholar-folks, he goes quite decent.' As to 
 aunt Grafton, I am afraid that, if you were here, 
 though we may both have gained with our years a 
 little discretion, yet I am afraid we should laugh, as 
 we were wont to do, at her innocent peculiarities. 
 She spends many a weary hour in devising new 
 head-gear, and doth daily, as Jennet says, break the 
 law against costly apparel. Jennet is the same un- 
 tired and tiresome railer. If there are anodynes for 
 the tongue in England, pray send some for her.
 
 144 HOPE LESLtU. 
 
 "We are going to-morrow on an excursion to a 
 new settlement on the river, called Northampton 
 Your father feared the toils and perils of the way 
 for me, and has consented, reluctantly, to my being 
 of the party. Aunt Grafton remonstrated, and ex- 
 pressed her natural and kind apprehensions, by al- 
 leging that it was *very unladylike, and a thing 
 quite unheard of in England,' for a young person 
 like me to go out exploring a new country. I urged 
 that our new country develops faculties that young 
 ladies in England were unconscious of possessing. 
 She maintained, as usual, that whatever was not 
 practised and known in England, w^as not worth 
 possessing ; but finally she concluded her opposition 
 with her old customary phrase, ^ Well, it's peculiar 
 of you. Miss Hope,' which, you know, she always 
 uses to characterize whatever opposes her opinions 
 or inclinations. 
 
 "My good tutor, who w^ould fain be my aegis- 
 bearer, insists on attending me. You may laugh at 
 him, Everell, and call him my knight-errant, oi 
 squire, or what you will ; but I assure you, he is a 
 right godly and suitable appendage to a Pilgrim 
 damsel. I will finish my letter when I return; a 
 journey of twenty miles has put my thoughts (which, 
 you know, are ever ready to take wing) to flight 
 
 "25th October, Thursday — or, as the injunction 
 has come from Boston that we be more particular 
 in avoiding these heathen designations, 8th month 
 25th, 5th day.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 14^ 
 
 " Dear Everell : We followed the Indian footpath 
 that winds along the margin of the river, and reached 
 Northampton without any accident. There is but a 
 narrow opening there, scooped out of the forest, and 
 j\Ir. Holioke, wishing to have an extensive view of 
 the country, engaged an Indian guide to conduct 
 your father and himself to the summit of a mount- 
 ain, which rises precipitously from the meadows, and 
 overlooks an ocean of forest. 
 
 " I had gazed on the beautiful summits of this 
 mountain, that, in this transparent October atmo- 
 sphere, were as blue and bright as the heavens them- 
 selves, till I had an irrepressible desire to go to 
 them ; and, like the child who cried for the horns of 
 the silver moon, should I have cried too if my wish- 
 es had been unattainable. 
 
 "Your father acquiesced (as my conscience tells 
 me, Everell, he does too easily) in my wishes, and 
 nobody objected but my tutor, who evidently thought 
 it would be unmanly for him to shrink from the toils 
 that I braved, and who looked forward with dread 
 and dismay to the painful ascent. However, we all 
 reached the summit without scath to life or limb, 
 and then we looked down upon a scene that made 
 me clap my hands, and my pious companions raise 
 their eyes in silent devotion. I hope you have not 
 forgotten the autumnal brilliancy of our woods. 
 They say the foliage in England has a paler, sickly 
 hue ; but for our Western world — Nature's youngest 
 child — she has reserved her many-coloured robe, the 
 brightest and most beautiful of her garments. Last 
 
 Vol. I.— N
 
 146 HOPE LESLlfi. 
 
 week the woods were as green as an emerald, and 
 now they look as if all the summer-spirits had been 
 wreathing them with flowers of the richest and most 
 brilliant dyes. 
 
 " Philosophers may inquire into the process of Na- 
 ture, and find out, if they can, how such sudden 
 changes are produced ; though, after all, I fancy their 
 inquiries will turn out like the experiment of the in- 
 quisitive boy, who cut open the drum to find the 
 sound ; but I love to lend my imagination to poets' 
 dreams, and to fancy Nature has her myriads of little 
 spirits who 
 
 " Do wander everywhere 
 Swifter than the moone's sphere." 
 
 He must have a torpid imagination and a cold heart, 
 I think, who does not fancy these vast forests filled 
 with invisible intelligences. Have these beautiful 
 valleys of our Connecticut, which we saw from the 
 mountain looking like a smile on Nature's rugged 
 face, and stretching as far as our vision extended, 
 till the broad river diminished in the shadowy dis- 
 tance to a silver thread — have they been seen and 
 enjoyed only by those savages who have their sum- 
 mer home in them 1 While I was pondering on this 
 thought, Mr. Holioke, who seldom indulges in a fan- 
 ciful suggestion, said to your father, 'The Romans, 
 you know. Brother Fletcher, had their Cenotapha, 
 empty sepulchres, in honour of those who died in 
 their country's cause, and mouldered on a distant 
 soil. Why may we not have ours, and surmise that 
 the spirits of those who have died for liberty and
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 147 
 
 religion have come before us to this wilderness, and 
 taken possession in the name of the Lord V 
 
 " We lingered for an hour or two on the mountain. 
 Mr. Holioke and your father were noting the sites 
 for future villages, already marked out for them by 
 clusters of Indian huts. The instinct of the children 
 of the forest guides them to these rich intervals, 
 which the sun and the river prepare and almost till 
 for them. While the gentlemen were thus engaged, 
 I observed that the highest rock of the mountain was 
 crowned with a pyramidal pile of stones, and about 
 them were strewn relics of Indian sacrifices. It has, 
 I believe, been the custom of people, in all ages, 
 who were instructed only by Nature, to worship on 
 high places.* I pointed to the rude altar, and ven- 
 tured to ask Mr, Holioke if an acceptable service 
 might not have been offered there. 
 
 " He shook his head at me as if I w^ere but little 
 better than a heathen, and said ' It was all worship 
 to an unknown God.' 
 
 " * But,' said your father, ' the time is approaching 
 when, through the valleys beneath and on this mount, 
 incense shall rise from Christian hearts.' 
 
 " ^ It were well,' replied Mr. Holioke, ' if we now, 
 in the spirit, consecrated it to the Lord.' 
 
 * " About the cliffs 
 
 Lay garlands, ears of maize, and skins of wolf, 
 And shaggy bear, the offerings of the tribe 
 Here made to the Great Spirit ; for they deemed, 
 Like worshippers of the olden time, that God 
 Doth walk on the high places, and affect 
 The earth — o'erlooking mountains." — Bryant.
 
 148 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " ' And let me stand sponsor for it,' said I, ' while 
 you christen it Holioke.' 
 
 " I was gently rebuked for my levity, but my hint 
 was not unkindly taken ; for the good man has never 
 since spoken of his namesake without calling it 
 < Mount Holioke: 
 
 " My senses were enchanted on that high place. 
 I listened to the mighty sound that rose from the 
 forest depths of the abyss like the roar of the distant 
 ocean, and to the gentler voices of nature, borne on 
 the invisible waves of air; the farewell notes of 
 the few^ birds that still linger with us ; the rustling of 
 the leaves beneath the squirrel's joyous leap; the 
 whirring of the partridge startled from his perch; 
 the tinkling of the cow-bell, and the barking of the 
 Indian's dog. I w^as lying with my ear over the 
 rock when your father reminded me that it was time 
 to return, and bade Digby, w^ho had attended us, 
 * look well to Miss Leslie's descent, and lend a help- 
 ing hand to Master Cradock.' 
 
 " My poor tutor's saffron skin changed to brick 
 colour ; and that he might not think I heard the im- 
 putation cast upon his serviceable power, I stepped 
 between him and Digby, and said, ' that with such 
 wings on each side of me, I might fly dow^n the 
 mountain.' 
 
 " * Ah, Miss Hope Leslie,' said Cradock, restored 
 to his self-complacency, ^ you are a merry thought 
 atween us.' He Avould fain have appeared young 
 and agile ; not from vanity, Everell, but to persuade 
 me to accept his proffered assistance. Poor old man !
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 149 
 
 he put me in mind, as he went after Digby, panting 
 and leaping (or rather settling) from crag to crag, 
 of an old horse, that almost cracks his bones to keep 
 pace with a colt. His involuntary groans betrayed 
 the pain of his stiffened muscles, and I lingered on 
 every projecting cliff on the pretence of taking a 
 farewell look of the valleys, but really to allow him 
 time to recover breath. 
 
 " In the mean time the gentlemen had got far in 
 advance of us. We came to the last rock of difficult 
 passage ; Digby gave me his hand to assist me in 
 springing from it, and asked Cradock to ascertain if 
 the foothold below was sure : a necessary precau- 
 tion, as the matted leaves had sometimes proved 
 treacherous. Cradock, in performing this office, star- 
 tled a rattlesnake that lay concealed under a mass 
 of leaves and moss; the reptile coiled himself up 
 and darted his fangs into his hand. I heard the rat- 
 tle, and saw the poor man's deathly paleness as he 
 sunk to the ground, exclaiming ' I am but a dead 
 sinner !' 
 
 " Digby turned to pursue the snake, and I sprang 
 from the rock. I begged Cradock to show me the 
 wound : it was on the back of his hand. I assured 
 him I could easily extract the venom, and would have 
 applied my lips to the wound, but he withdrew his 
 hand. Digby at that moment returned. ' She would 
 suck the poison from my hand, Digby,' said Cradock; 
 * verily, she is but little lower than the angels.' 
 
 " ' What ! Miss Hope !' exclaimed Digby, ' would 
 you be guilty of self-murder even if you could save 
 N 2
 
 150 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the old gentleman from dying, and dying, as it were, 
 by the will of the Lord V I assured Digby that 
 there was no danger whatever to me ; that I had 
 read of many cases of poison being extracted in that 
 way without the slightest injury to the person ex- 
 tracting it. He asked me where I had read such 
 stories. I was obliged to refer to a book of ray aunt 
 Grafton's, called ' The Wonders of the Crusades.' 
 This seemed to Digby but apocryphal authority ; he 
 shook his head, and said ' he would beheve such fa- 
 bles nowhere out of the Bible.' I entreated vehe- 
 mently, for I well knew it could not harm me, and I 
 believed it to be life or death to my poor tutor. He 
 seemed half disposed to yield to me. ' Thou hast a 
 marvellous persuasion, child,' he said ; ' and now 1 
 remember me of a proverb they have in Italy : the 
 lips extract venom from the heart, and poison from 
 the wound.' 
 
 " Digby again shook his head. ' Nothing but one 
 of those flourishes they put into verses,' he said. 
 * Come, come. Master Cradock,stir up a manly spir- 
 it, and let's on to the fort, where we may get help 
 it's lawful for you to use ; and don't ransack your 
 memory for anymore such scholar-rubbish to uphold 
 you in consenting to our young lady's exposing her 
 life to save the fag end of yours.' 
 
 " ' Expose her life !' retorted Cradock, rising with 
 a feeling of honest indignation that for a moment 
 overcame the terror of death. ' Digby, you know 
 that if I had a hundred lives, I would rather lose them 
 all than expose her precious life.'
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 151 
 
 " * I believe you, Master Cradock, I believe you ; 
 and whether you live or die, I will always uphold you 
 for a true-hearted man ; and you must excuse me for 
 my boldness in speaking, when I thought our young 
 mistress was putting herself in the jaws of death.' 
 
 " We now made all speed to reach the fort ; but 
 when we arrived there no aid could be obtained, and 
 poor Cradock's death was regarded as inevitable. I 
 remembered to have heard Nelema say that she knew 
 a certain antidote to the poison of a rattlesnake ; and 
 when I told this to your father, he ordered our horses 
 to be saddled, and we set out immediately for home, 
 where we arrived in six hours. Even in that brief 
 space the disease had made fearful progress. The 
 wound was horribly inflamed, and the whole arm 
 swollen and empurpled. I saw despair in every face 
 that looked on Cradock. I went myself, attended 
 by Jennet and Digby, to Nelema's hut ; for I knew, if 
 the old woman w^as in one of her moody fits, she 
 would not come for any bidding but mine. 
 
 " Jennet, as you know^ w^as always her w^ont, took 
 up her testimony against * the old heathen witch.' 
 ' It were better,' she said, ' to die than to live by the 
 devil's help.' I assured her that, if the case was her 
 own, I would not oppose her pious preference, but 
 that now I must have my own way, and I beheved 
 the Giver of Life would direct the means of its pres- 
 ervation. 
 
 " Though it was near midnight, we found Nelema 
 sitting at the entrance of her hut. I told her my er- 
 rand. ' Peace be with you, child,' she said. * I
 
 162 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 knew you were coming, and have been waiting for 
 you.' She is superstitious, or loves to affect super- 
 natural knowledge, and I should have thought no- 
 thing of her harmless boast had I not seen, by the 
 significant shake of Jennet's head, that she set it 
 down against her. The old woman filled a deerskin 
 pouch from a repository of herbs in one corner of her 
 hut, and then returned to Bethel with us. We found 
 Cradock in a state of partial delirium and nervous 
 restlessness which, your father said, was the imme- 
 diate precursor of death. Aunt Grafton was kneel- 
 ing at his bedside, reading the prayers for the dying. 
 
 Nelema ordered every one, with the exception of 
 myself, to leave the room, for she said her cures would 
 not take effect unless there was perfect silence. 
 Your father retired to his own apartment, and gave 
 orders that he should in no case be diverted from 
 his prayers. Aunt Grafton withdrew with evident 
 reluctance, and Jennet lingered till Nelema's pa- 
 tience was exhausted, when she pushed her out of 
 the room and barred the door against her. 
 
 " I confess, Everell,! would gladly have been ex- 
 cluded too, for I recoiled from witnessing Cradock's 
 mortal agony ; but I dared in no wise cross Nelema ; 
 so I quietly took the lamp, as she bade me, and stood 
 at the head of the bed. She first threw aside her 
 blanket, and discovered a kind of wand, which she 
 had concealed beneath it, wreathed with a snake's 
 skin. She then pointed to the figure of a snake de- 
 lineated on her naked shoulder. * It is the symbol 
 of our tribe,' she said. * Foolish child !' she contin-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 153 
 
 ued, for she saw me shudder, ' it is a sign of hon- 
 our, won for our race by him who first drew from 
 the veins the poison of the king of all creeping 
 things. The tale was told by our fathers, and sung 
 at our feasts ; and now am I, the last of my race, 
 bidden to heal a servant in the house of our enemies.' 
 She remained for a moment silent, motionless, and 
 perfectly abstracted. A loud groan from Cradock 
 roused her. She bent over him, and muttered an in- 
 cantation in her own tongue. She then, after many 
 efforts, succeeded in making him swallow a strong 
 decoction, and bathed the wound and arm with the 
 same liquor. These applications were repeated at 
 short intervals, during which she brandished her 
 wand, making quick and mysterious motions, as if she 
 were writing hieroglyphics on the invisible air. She 
 writhed her body into the most horrible contortions, 
 and tossed her withered arms wildly about her; and, 
 Everell, shall I confess to you, that I trembled lest 
 she should assume the living form of the reptile 
 whose image she bore ? So violent was her exercise, 
 that the sweat poured from her face like rain, and 
 ever and anon she sank down in momentary ex- 
 haustion and stupor, and then would spring to her 
 feet as a racehorse starts on the course, fling back 
 her long black locks that had fallen over her bony 
 face, and repeat the strange process. 
 
 " After a while — how long I know not, for anxi- 
 ety and terror prevented my taking any note of time 
 — Cradock showed plain symptoms of amendment ; 
 his respiration became free ; the colour in his face
 
 154 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 subsided ; his brow, which had been drawn to a knot, 
 relaxed, and his whole appearance became natural 
 and tranquil. ' Now,' whispered Nelema to me, 
 * fear no more for him ; he has turned his back on the 
 grave. I will stay here and watch him, but go 
 thou to thy bed ; thy cheek is pale with weariness 
 and fear.' 
 
 " I was too happy at that moment to feel weari- 
 ness, and would have remained, but Nelema's ges- 
 tures for me to withdraw were vehement, and I left 
 her, mentally blessing her for her effectual aid. As 
 I opened the door I stumbled against Jennet. It 
 w^as evident, from her posture, that she had been 
 peeping through the keyhole. Do not think me a 
 vixen, Everell, if I confess that my first impulse was 
 to box her ears ; however, I suppressed my rage, and 
 for the first time in my hfe was prudent and tempo- 
 rizing, and I stooped to beg her to go with me to my 
 room ; I am sure it was with the timid voice of one 
 who asks a favour, for, the moment we were in the 
 light, I saw by her mien that she felt the power was 
 all in her own hands. 
 
 " ' It is enough,' she said, ^ to make the hair of a 
 saint stand on end to have such carryings-on in my 
 master's house ; and you. Miss Hope Leslie, that have 
 been, as it were, exalted to heaven in point of priv- 
 ileges, that you should be nothing better than an aid 
 and abetment of this emissary of Satan.' 
 
 " ' Hush,' said I, * Jennet, and keep your breath 
 to give thanks for good Mr. Cradock's recovery. 
 Nelema has cured him : Satan does not send forth 
 his emissaries with healing gifts.'
 
 Hope Leslie. 155 
 
 " ^ Now, Miss Leslie,' retorted the provoking crea- 
 ture, * you are in the very gall of bitterness and 
 blindness of the flesh. Did not the magicians with 
 their enchantments even as did Moses and Aaron 7 
 The sons of darkness always put on the form of the 
 sons of light. I always said so. I knew what it 
 would come to. I said she was a witch in Mistress 
 Fletcher's time.' 
 
 " ' And you spoke falsely then, as you do now, 
 Jennet, for Nelema is no witch.' 
 
 " ' No witch !' rejoined Jennet, screaming with her 
 screech-owl voice so loud that I was afraid your fa- 
 ther would hear her ; ' try her, then ; see if she can 
 read in the Bible, or Mr. Cotton's catechism; no, 
 no ; but give her your aunt Grafton's prayer-book, 
 and she will read as glib as a minister.' 
 
 " ' Jennet,' said I, ' you are mad outright ; you 
 seem to forget that Nelema cannot read anything.' 
 
 '•' ' It is all the same as if she could,' persisted Jen- 
 net j * her master makes short teaching : there are 
 none so deaf as those that won't hear. I tell you 
 again. Miss Hope Leslie, remember Mrs. Fletcher; 
 remember what she got for shutting her ears to me.' 
 
 " You will forgive me, Everell, for losing my pa- 
 tience utterly at these profane allusions to your moth- 
 er, and commanding Jennet to leave my room. 
 
 " She made me bitterly repent my want of self- 
 command ; for, self-willed as the fools of Solomon's 
 time, she determined to have her own way, and went 
 to your father's room, where she gained admittance, 
 and gave such a description of Nelema's healing pro-
 
 166 ttOP^ LESLtfi. 
 
 cess, that, late as it was, I was summoned to his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 " As I followed Jennet along the passage, she 
 whispered to me, * Now, for the love of your own 
 soul, don't use his blind partiality to pervert his judg- 
 ment.' 
 
 " I made no reply, but mentally resolved that I 
 would task my power and ingenuity to the utmost to 
 justify Nelema. When we came into the study. Jen- 
 net, to my great joy, was dismissed. It is much 
 easier for me to contend with my superiors than my 
 inferiors. Your father bade me sit down by him. I 
 seated myself on the footstool at his feet, so that I 
 could look straight into his eyes ; for many a time, 
 when my heart has quailed at his solemn address, the 
 tender spirit stationed in that soft hazel eye of his — 
 so like yours, Everell — has quieted all my apprehen- 
 sions. I spoke first, and said ' I was sure Jennet had 
 spoiled the good news of my tutor's amendment, or 
 he would not look so grave.' 
 
 " He replied, ' that it was time to look grave when 
 a powwow dared to use her diabolical spells, mut- 
 terings, and exorcisms beneath a Christian roof, and 
 in the presence of a Christian maiden, and on a 
 Christian man ; but,' he added, * perhaps Jennet hath 
 not told the matter rightly; her zeal is not always 
 according to knowledge. I would gladly beUeve 
 that my house has not been profaned. Tell me, 
 Hope, all you witnessed ; tell me truly.' 
 
 " I obeyed. Your father heard me through with- 
 out any comment, but now andHhen a deep-drawn
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 157 
 
 sigh ; and when I had finished, he asked ' what I 
 understood by the strange proceedings I had de- 
 scribed.' 
 
 " * May I not answer,' I said, ^ in the language of 
 Scripture, " that this only I know^, that whereas thy 
 servant was sick, he is now W'hole." ' 
 
 " * Do not, my dear child,' said your father, * rash- 
 ly misapply Scripture, and thus add to your sin in 
 (as I trust ignorantly) dealing with this witch and 
 her familiars.' 
 
 " I replied, * I did not believe Nelema had used 
 any witchcraft.' 
 
 " He asked me ' if I had not been told that some 
 of our catechized Indians had confessed that when 
 they were pagans they were powwows, devoted in 
 their infancy to demons; that these powwows w^ere 
 factors for the devil ; that they held actual conver- 
 sation, and were in open and avowed confederacy 
 with him V 
 
 " I said ' I had heard all this,' but asked ' if it 
 were right to take the confession of these poor chil- 
 dren of ignorance and superstition against them- 
 selves.' I repeated what I had often heard you, 
 Everell, say, that Magawisca believed the mountain 
 and the valley, the air, the trees, every little rivulet, 
 had their present invisible spirit, and that the good 
 might hold discourse with them. ' Why not believe 
 the one,' I asked, * as well as the other V 
 
 " Your father looked at me sternly. * Dost thou 
 not believe in witchcraft, child V he said. While I 
 hesitated how to reply, lest I should in some way 
 
 Vol. L—
 
 158 iiOPE LESLIE. 
 
 implicate Nelema, your father hastily turned the 
 leaves of the Bible that lay on his table, and opened 
 to every text where familiar spirits, necromancers, 
 sorcerers, wizards, witches, and witchcraft are spo- 
 ken of. 
 
 " I felt as if the windows of heaven were opened 
 on my devoted head. As soon as I could collect my 
 wits, I said something, confusedly, about not having 
 thought much on the subject, but that I had suppo- 
 sed, as indeed I always did, that bad spirits were 
 only permitted to appear on earth when there were 
 also good spirits and holy prophets to oppose them. 
 
 " Your father looked steadily at me for a few mo- 
 ments, then closing the Bible, he said, ' I will not 
 blame thee, my child, but myself, that I have left 
 thee to the guidance of thy natural erring reason ; I 
 should have better instructed thee.' He then kissed 
 me, bade me good-night, and opened the door for me 
 to depart. I ventured to ask ' if I might not say to 
 Jennet that it was his orders she should be silent in 
 regard to Nelema.' 
 
 " ' No, no,' he said 3 ' meddle no farther with that 
 matter, but go to your own apartment, and remain 
 there till the bell rings for morning prayers.' 
 
 " My heart rebelled, but I dared not disobey. I 
 came to my room, and have been sitting by my open 
 window, in the hope of hearing Nelema's parting 
 footsteps ; but I have listened in vain, and, unable to 
 sleep, I have tried to tranquilhze my mind by wri- 
 ting to you. Poor old Nelema ! if she is given up to 
 the magistrates, it will go hard with her, Jennet is
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 159 
 
 such an obstinate, self-willed fool ! I believe she will 
 be willing to see Nelema hung for a witch, that she 
 may have the pleasure of saying ' I told you so.' 
 
 " Poor Nelema ! such a harmless, helpless, lonely 
 being ! my tears fall so fast on my paper that I can 
 scarcely write. I blame myself for bringing her into 
 this hapless case ; but it may be better than I fear. 
 I will leave my letter, and try to sleep. 
 
 " It is as I expected : Nelem.a was sent, early this 
 morning, to the magistrates. She was tried before 
 our triumvirate, Mr. Pynchon, Holioke, and Chapin. 
 It was not enough to lay on her the crime of curing 
 Cradock, but Jennet and some of her gossips impu- 
 ted to her all the mischances that have happened 
 for the last seven years. My testimony was extort- 
 ed from me, for I could not disguise my reluctance 
 to communicate anything that could be made unfa- 
 vourable to her. Our magistrates looked sternly on 
 me, and Mr. Holioke said, ^ Take care, Hope Leslie, 
 that thou art not found in the folly of Balaam, who 
 would have blessed when the Lord commanded him 
 to curse.' 
 
 " I said ' it was better to mistake in blessing than 
 in cursing, and that I was sure Nelema was as inno- 
 cent as myself.' I know not whence I had my cour-^ 
 age, but I think truth companies not with cowardice ; 
 however, what I would fain call courage, Mr. Pyn- 
 chon thought necessary to rebuke as presumption : 
 * Thou art somewhat forward, maiden,' he said, ' in 
 giving thy opinion, but thou must know that we re-
 
 160 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 gard it but as the whistle of a bird ; withdraw, and 
 leave judgment to thy elders.' 
 
 " In leaving the room I passed close to Nelema. 
 I gave her my hand in token of kindness ; and 
 though I heard a murmur of ^ shame ! shame !' I did 
 not withdraw it till the poor old creature had bowed 
 her wrinkled brow upon it, and dropped a tear which 
 no suffering could have extorted. 
 
 " The trial went on, and she was pronounced wor- 
 thy of death ; but, as the authority of our magistra- 
 cy does not extend to life, limb, or banishment, her 
 fate is referred to the court at Boston. In the mean 
 time, she awaits her sentence in a cell in Mr. Pyn- 
 chon's cellar. We have, as yet, no jail. 
 
 " Digby has been summoned before the magis- 
 trates, and publicly reproved for expressing himself 
 against their proceedings. Mr. Pynchon charged 
 him to speak no more against godly governors and 
 righteous government, for ' to such scoffers Heaven 
 had sent divers plagues : some had been spirited 
 away by Satan, some blown up in our harbours, and 
 some, like poor Austin of Quinnepaig, taken into 
 Turkish captivity ! !' Digby's feelings are suppress- 
 ed, but not subdued. 
 
 " How I wish you were here, dear Everell. Some- 
 times 1 wish your mother's letter had not been so per- 
 suasive. Nothing but that last request of hers would 
 have induced your father to send you to your uncle 
 Stretton. If you were here, I am sure you would
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 161 
 
 devise some way to save Nelema. When she is 
 gone you will never again hear of Magawisca. I 
 shall never hear more of my sweet sister. They 
 both, if we may believe Nelema, still dwell safely in 
 the wigwam of Mononotto, among the Mohawks. 
 These Mohawks are said to be a fierce race ; and all 
 those tribes who dwell near the coast, and have, in 
 some measure, come under a Christian jurisdiction, 
 and are called Spraying and catechized Indians,' say 
 that the Mohawks are to them as wolves to sheep. 
 I cannot bear to think of my gentle, timid sister — a 
 very dove in her nature — among these fierce tribes. 
 I wonder that I am ever happy, and yet it is so nat- 
 ural to me to be happy ! The commander of the fort 
 at Albany, at Governor Winthrop's request, has 
 made great efforts to obtain some information about 
 my sister, but without any satisfactory result. Still 
 Nelema insists to me that her knowledge is certain ; 
 and when I have endeavoured to ascertain the source 
 whence she obtained it, she pointed upward, indica- 
 ting that she held mysterious intelligence with the 
 spirits of the air ; but I believe she employed this ar- 
 tifice to hide some intercourse she holds with distant 
 and hostile tribes. 
 
 " What a tragi-comedy is life, Everell I I am 
 sure Shakspeare has copied Nature in dividing his 
 scenes between mirth and sadness. I have laughed 
 to-day heartily, and for a few moments I quite for- 
 got poor Nelema, and all my heart-rending anxieties 
 about her. My tutor, for the first time since his 
 02
 
 162 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 most unlucky mishap, left his room, and made his 
 appearance in the parlour. I was sitting there with 
 aunt Grafton, and I rose to shake his hand, and ex- 
 press my unfeigned joy on his recovery. His little 
 gray eyes were for a moment blinded with tears at 
 what he was pleased to call the ' condescendency of 
 my regard for him.' He then stood for a moment 
 as if he were lost, as you know is always his w^ont, 
 when a blur comes over his mind, which is none of 
 the clearest at best. I thought he looked pale and 
 weak, and I offered him a chair and begged him to 
 sit down ; but he declined it with a wave, or, rather, 
 a poke of his hand, for he never in his life made a 
 motion so graceful as a wave ; and, drawing a paper 
 from- his pocket, he said, * I have here an address to 
 thecj s\^eet Miss Hope Leslie, wherein I have put in 
 a body of words the spirit of my late meditations; 
 and I have endeavoured to express, in the best Latin- 
 ity with which many years of daily and nightly study 
 have possessed me, my humble sense of that marvel- 
 lous wit and kindness of thine, W"hich made thee, as 
 it were, a ministering angel unto me, when I was 
 brought nigh unto the grave by the bite of that most 
 cunning beast of the field, with whom I verily be- 
 lieve the devil left a portion of his sj^irit, in payment 
 of the body he borrowed to beguile our first parents.' 
 "This long preamble finished, Master Cradock 
 began the reading of his address, of which, being in 
 the language of the learned, I could not, as you 
 knew, understand one word ; however, he did not 
 perceive that my smiles were not those of intelli-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 163 
 
 gence, nor hear aunt Grafton's remark, that ' much 
 learning and little wit had made him as crazy as a 
 loon.' He had not proceeded far when his knees 
 began to shake under him, and disdaining to sit (an 
 attitude, I suppose, proscribed in the ceremonies of 
 the schools, the only ceremonies he observes), he con- 
 trived, with the aid of the chair I had placed for 
 him, to kneel. Vvhen he had finished his address, 
 which, according to the rules of art, had a beginning, 
 a middle, and, thank Heaven ! an end, he essayed to 
 rise ; but, alas ! though, like FalstafF, he had an 
 ' alacrity in sinking,' to rise was impossible; for, be- 
 sides the usual impediments of his bulk and clumsi- 
 ness, he was weakened and stiffened by his late sick- 
 ness ; so I was fain to call Digby to his assistance, 
 and run away to my own apartment to write you, 
 dear Everell, who are ever patient with my Bethel 
 chronicles, an account of what aunt Grafton calls 
 ' this scholar foolery.' 
 
 " Yesterday was our lecture day, and I went to 
 the village to attend the meeting. A sudden storm 
 of hail and wind came on during the exercises, and 
 continued after, and I was obliged to accept Mrs. 
 Pynchon's invitation to go home with her. After 
 we had taken our supper, I observed Mr. Pynchon 
 fill a plate bountifully with provisions from the table, 
 and give it, with a large key which he took from a 
 little cupboard over the fireplace, to a serving-woman. 
 She returned in a short time with the key, and, as I 
 observed, restored it to its place. Digby came
 
 164 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 shortly after to attend me home. The family hos- 
 pitably urged me to remain, and, ascertaining from 
 Digby that there was no especial reason for my re- 
 turn, I dismissed him. 
 
 " The next morning I was awakened from a deep 
 sleep by one of Mr. Pynchon's daughters, w'ho told 
 me, with a look of terror, that a despatch had arri- 
 ved early that morning from Boston, notifying the 
 acquiescence of the court there in the opinion of our 
 magistrates, and Nelema's sentence of condemnation 
 to death ; that her father had himself gone to the cell 
 to announce her fate to her, when lo I she had van- 
 ished : the prison door was fast, the key in its usual 
 place, but the witch was spirited away. I hurried 
 on my clothes, and trembling with surprise, pleasure, 
 or whatever emotion you may please to ascribe to 
 me, I descended to the parlour, where the family 
 and neighbours had assembled to talk over the strange 
 event. I only added exclamations to the various 
 conjectures that w^ere made. No one had any doubt 
 as to who had been Nelema's deliverer, unless a sus- 
 picion was implied in the inquiring glances which 
 Mr. Pynchon cast on me, but which, I believe, no one 
 but myself observed. Some could smell sulphur 
 from the outer kitchen door to the door of the cell ; 
 and there were others who fancied that, at a few 
 yards' distance from the house, there w^ere on the 
 ground marks of a slight scorching : a plain indica- 
 tion of a visitation from the enemy of mankind. One 
 of the most sagacious of our neighbours remarked 
 that he had often heard of Satan getting his servants
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 165 
 
 into trouble, but he never before heard of his getting 
 them out. However, the singularity of the case only 
 served to magnify their v;onder, vrithout in the least 
 weakening their faith in the actual, and, as it appear- 
 ed, friendly alliance between Nelema and the Evil 
 One. Indeed, I was the only person present whose 
 belief in her witchcraft w^as not, as it were, convert- 
 ed into sight. 
 
 " Everell, I had been visited by a strange dream 
 that night, which I will venture to relate to you, for 
 you, at least, will not think me confederate with Ne- 
 lema's deliverer. 
 
 " Methought I stood, with the old woman, beneath 
 the elm-tree at the end of Mr. Pynchon's garden ; 
 the moon, through an opening of the branches, shone 
 brightly on her face : it was wet with tears. 
 
 " ' I shall not forget,' she said, ' who saved me from 
 dying by the hand of an enemy. As surely as the 
 sun will appear there again,' she added, pointing to 
 the east, ' so surely, Hope Leslie, you shall see your 
 sister.' 
 
 " ' But, Nelema,' said I, ' my poor little sister is 
 in the far western forests j you can never reach 
 there.' 
 
 " * I will reach there,' she replied j ' if I crawl on 
 my hands and knees, I will reach there.' 
 
 " Think you, dear Everell, my sister will ever ex- 
 pound this dream to me 1 
 
 " I was the first to carry the news to Bethel. Your 
 father was in one of his meditative humours, and 
 heeded it no more than if I had told him a bird had
 
 166 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 flown from its cage. Jennet joined in the general 
 opinion, that Satan, or at least one of his emissaries, 
 had opened the prison door -, and our good Digby, 
 with his usual fearlessness, maintained, in the teeth 
 of her exhortation and invective, that an angel had 
 wrought for the innocent old woman. 
 
 " A week has elapsed. It is whispered that on 
 the night Nelema vanished, Digby was missed by 
 his bedfellow ! strange depredations were commit- 
 ted on Jennet's larder ! and muffled oars were heard 
 on the river ! 
 
 "Our magistrates have made long and frequent 
 visits to Bethel, and have held secret conferences 
 with your father. The purport of them I leave you 
 to conjecture from the result. Yesterday he sent for 
 me to the study. He appeared deeply affected. It 
 was some time before he could command his voice ; 
 at length he said that he had determined to accept 
 for me Madam Winthrop's invitation to Boston. I 
 told him, and told him truly, that I did not wish to 
 go to Boston ; that 1 was perfectly contented — per- 
 fectly happy. ' And what,' I asked, ' will you and 
 poor aunt Grafton do without me V 
 
 " ' Your aunt goes with you,' he said ; ^ and as for 
 me, my dear child, I ha^-e too long permitted myself 
 the indulgence of having you with me. I have a 
 pilgrimage to accomplish through this wilderness, 
 and I am sinful if I linger to w^atch the unfolding of 
 even the single flower that has sprung up in my 
 path.'
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 167 
 
 ^•^But,' said I, 'does not He who appoints the 
 path through the wilderness, set the flowers by the 
 wayside ? I will not — I will not be plucked up and 
 cast away,' He kissed me, and said, * I believe, my 
 beloved child, thou wert sent in mercy to me ; but 
 it were indeed sinful to convert the staff vouchsafed 
 to my pilgrimage into fetters. I should ever bear in 
 mind that life is a race and a warfare, and nothing 
 else: you have this yet to learn, Hope. I have 
 proved myself not fit to teach or to guide thee — nor 
 is your aunt. Madam Winthrop will give you pious 
 instruction and counsel ; and her godly niece, Esther 
 Downing, will, I trust, win you to the narrow path, 
 Avhich, as the elders say, she doth so steadily pursue.' 
 
 " The idea of this Puritanical guardianship did not 
 strike me agreeably, and, besides, I love Bethel ; I 
 love your father — with my whole soul I love him ; 
 and, as you already know, Everell, therefore it is no 
 confession, I love to have my own way, and I said I 
 would not go. 
 
 " ' You must go, my chdd,' said your father ; ' I 
 cannot find it in my heart to chide you for your re- 
 luctance, but you must go. Neither you nor I have 
 any choice.' 
 
 '' ' But why must I go ?' I asked. 
 
 " ' Ask no questions,' he replied ; ' it is fixed that 
 you must go. Tell your aunt Grafton that she must 
 be ready to leave Springfield next Aveek. Mr. Pyn- 
 chon and his servants attend you. Now leave me, 
 my child ; for when you are with me, you touch at 
 will every chord in my hearty and I would fain keep 
 it still now.'
 
 li68 . HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " I left him, Everell, while I could command my 
 tears; and after I had given them free course, I in- 
 formed aunt Grafton of our destiny. She was so de- 
 lighted with the prospect of a visit to Boston, that I 
 too began to think it must be very pleasant ; and 
 my dread of this straight-laced Mrs. Winthrop and 
 her perpendicular niece gave place to indefinite an- 
 ticipations of pleasure. I shall, at any rate, see you 
 sooner than if I remained here. Thank Heaven, the 
 time of your return approaches ; and now that it is 
 so near, I rejoice that your father has not been per- 
 suaded, by those who seem to me to take a very su- 
 perfluous care of his private affairs, to recall you 
 sooner. On this subject he has stood firm ; satisfied, 
 as he has always said, that he could not err in com- 
 plying with the last request of your sainted mother. 
 
 " Aunt Grafton charges me with divers messages 
 to you, but I will not add a feather to this leaden 
 letter, which you will now have to read, as I have 
 written it, by instalments. 
 
 "Farewell, dear Everell: forget not thy loving 
 friend and sister, 
 
 " Hope Leslie." 
 
 As Hope had declined her aunt's messages, the 
 good lady affixed them herself; and here they fol- 
 low. 
 
 " To Everell Fletcher, 
 " Valued Sir, 
 " Being much hurried in point of time, I would 
 fain have been myself excused from writing, but Miss
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 169 
 
 Hope declines adding to her letter what I have in- 
 dited. 
 
 " In your last, you mention being visited with the 
 great cold, which I take, from your account of it, to 
 be the same as that with which we were all shaken 
 soon after the coronation of his present majesty (God 
 bless him !). I had then a recipe given me for an in- 
 falhble remedy by the Lady Penyvere, great aunt, 
 by the mother's side, to la belle Rosette, maid of 
 honour to the queen. 
 
 " I enclose it for you, believing it will greatly ad- 
 vantage you : though Hope insists that, if the cold 
 has not yet left you, it will be a chronic disease be- 
 fore this reaches you ; in which case I would advise 
 you to apply to old Lady Lincoln, who hath, in her 
 family receipt-book, many renowned cures for chron- 
 ics. I remember one in particular, somewhere about 
 the middle of the book, which follows immediately 
 after a rare recipe for an every-day plum-pudding. 
 
 " I doubt not that years have mended thee, and 
 that thou wouldst now condemn the folly and igno- 
 rance of thy childhood, which made thee then deride 
 the most sovereign remedies. Hope, I am sorry to 
 say, is as obstinate as ever ; and it was but yesterday, 
 when I wished her to take some diluents for a latent 
 fever, that she reminded me of the time when she 
 and you, in one of your mischievous pranks, threw 
 the pennyroyal tea out of the window, and suffered 
 me to believe that it had cured an incipient pleurisy. 
 Thus presumptuous is youth ! Hope is, to be sure, 
 notwithstanding her living entirely without medicine, 
 
 Vol. L— P
 
 itO HOPE Leslie:. 
 
 in indifferent good health ; her form is rather more 
 slender than when you left us, as is becoming at sev- 
 enteen ; but her cheek is as round and as ruddy as 
 a peach. I should not care so much about her self- 
 will on the score of medicine, but that her stomach, 
 being in such perfect order now, would bear every 
 kind of preventive, and medicines of this class are 
 so simple that they can do no harm. I beheve it is 
 true, as old Doctor Panton used to say, * your heal- 
 thy people are always prejudiced against medicine.' 
 I wish you w^ould drop a hint on this subject in your 
 next letter to her, for the slightest hint from you goes 
 farther than a lecture from me. 
 
 " It was very thoughtful in you, Mr. Everell, and 
 what I once should not have expected, to inquire so 
 particularly after my health. I am happy to say, 
 that at this present I am better than I have been for 
 years, which is unaccountable to me, as, since the 
 hurry of our preparations for Boston, I have forgot- 
 ten my pills at night and my tonics in the morning. 
 
 " I wish you to present many thanks to Lady Amy 
 for assisting you in my commissions. The articles 
 in general suited, though the pinking of the flounces 
 was too deep. My gown was a trifle too dark ; but 
 do not mention that to Lady Amy, for I make no 
 doubt she took due pains, and only wanted a right 
 understanding of the real hue, called feuille morte, 
 which, between you and I — sub rosa, mind — my 
 gown w^ould not be called by any person skilled in 
 the colours of silk. Hope thought to convince me 
 I was WTong by matching it with a dead leaf from 
 the forest. Was not that peculiar of Hope 1
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 171 
 
 " Now, Mr. Everell, I would not be an old woman 
 before my time, therefore I will have another silk of 
 a brighter cast. Brown it must be, but \i\e\y — live- 
 ly. I will enclose a lock of Hope's hair, which is 
 precisely the hue I mean. You will observe it has 
 a golden tinge, that makes it appear in all lights as 
 if there were sunshine on it, and yet it is a decided 
 brown ; a difficult colour to hit, but by due inquiry — 
 and I am sure, from the pains you were at to procure 
 the articles I requested for Hope, you will spare no 
 trouble — I think it may be obtained. 
 
 " I am greatly beholden to you for the pocket- 
 glass you sent me; it is a mighty convenient article, 
 and an uncommon pretty little attention, Mr. Ever- 
 ell. 
 
 " Your present to Hope was a real beauty. The 
 only blue fillet, and the prettiest of any colour I ever 
 saw ; and such a marvellous match for her eyes — 
 that is, when the light is full on them ; but you know 
 they always had a changeable trick with them. I 
 remember Lady Amy's once saying to me before we 
 left England, that my niece would yet do mischief 
 with those laughing black eyes of hers. I liked her 
 sister's (poor dear Mary — God help her the while !) 
 better then ; they were the true Leshe blue. But 
 one word more of the fillet. Your taste in it cannot 
 be too much commended ; but then, as I tell Hope, 
 one does not want always to see the same thing; 
 and she doth continually wear it : granted, it keeps 
 the curls out of her eyes, and they do look lovely 
 falling about it ; but she wears it week-days and Suu-
 
 173 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 days, feast-days and fast-days, and she never yet has 
 put on theHenriette^ — do remember a thousand thanks 
 to Lady Amy for the pattern — the Henriette I made 
 her, Hke that worn by the queen the first night she 
 appeared in the royal box. 
 
 " I should like to have a little more chitchat with 
 you, Mr. Everell, now my pen has got, so to speak, 
 warm in the harness ; but business before pleasure. 
 I beg you will remember me to all inquiring friends. 
 Alas ! few in number now, as most of my surviving 
 contemporaries have died since I left England. 
 
 " Farewell, Mr. Everell ; these few lines are from 
 your friend and well-wisher, 
 
 " Bertha Grafton. 
 
 "N.B. — It is a great pleasure to me to think you 
 are living in a churchman's family, where you can't 
 but steer clear of — you know what — peculiarities. 
 
 " N.B. — Hope will have given you the particulars 
 of poor Master Cradock's miscarriage ; his mind was 
 set a little agee by it, but he appears to be mending. 
 
 " N.B. — The enclosed recipe hath marvellous vir- 
 tues in fevers as well as in colds."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 173 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " A country lad is my degree, 
 
 An' few there be that ken me, ; 
 But what care 1 how few they be, 
 I'm welcome aye to Nannie, 0." 
 
 Burns. 
 
 There are hints in Miss Leslie's letter to Everell 
 Fletcher that require some amplification to be quite 
 intelligible. She looked upon herself as the unhap- 
 py, though innocent cause, of the old Indian woman's 
 misfortune ; and, rash as generous, she had resolv- 
 ed, if possible, to extricate her. With the inconsid- 
 erate warmth of youthful feeling, she had, before the 
 grave and reverend magistrates, declared her belief 
 in Nelema's innocence, and thereby implied a censure 
 of their wisdom. This was certainly an almost un- 
 paralleled presumption in those times, when youth 
 was accounted inferiority ; but the very circumstance 
 that in one hght aggravated her fault, in another 
 mitigated it ; and her youth being admitted in ex- 
 tenuation of her offence, she was allowed to escape 
 with a reproof and admonition of moderate length, 
 while her poor guardian was condemned to a long 
 and private conference on the urgency of reclaiming 
 the spoiled child. Various modes of effecting so de- 
 sirable an object were suggested ; for, as the Scotch- 
 man said in an analogous case, " Ilka man can man- 
 age a wife but him that has her." 
 P 2
 
 174 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 This matter had passed over, and justice was pro- 
 ceeding in her stern course, when fortune, accident, 
 or, more truly. Providence, favoured the benevolent 
 wishes of our heroine. She had, as has been seen, 
 been carried by an unforeseen circumstance to the 
 house of one of the magistrates. There, mindful of 
 the poor old prisoner, whose sentence she knew was 
 daily expected from Boston, she had been watchful 
 of every circumstance relating to her, and when she 
 observed the key of her prison deposited in an ac- 
 cessible place (no one dreaming of any interference 
 in behalf of the condemned), she was inspired with 
 a sudden resolution to set her free. This was a bold, 
 dangerous, and unlawful interposition; but Hope 
 Leslie took counsel only from her own heart, and 
 that told her that the rights of innocence were para- 
 mount to all other rights : and as to danger to her- 
 self, she did not weigh it — she did not think of it. 
 
 Digby came to the village to attend her home, and 
 this afforded her an opportunity of concert with him ; 
 in the depths of the night, when all the household 
 were in profound sleep, she stole from her bed, found 
 her way to the door of the dungeon, and leading out 
 the prisoner, gave her into Digby's charge, who had 
 a canoe in waiting, in which he ferried her to the 
 opposite shore, where he left her, after having sup- 
 plied her with provisions to sustain her to the valleys 
 of the Housatonic, if, indeed, her wasted strength 
 should enable her to reach there. The gratitude of 
 the poor old creature for her unexpected deliverance 
 from shameful death is faintly touched on in Hope's
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 175 
 
 letter. She could scarcely, without magnifying her 
 own merit, have described the vehement emotion 
 with, which Nelema promised that she would devote 
 the remnant of her miserable days to seeking and re- 
 storing her lost sister. Again and again, while Hope 
 urged her departure, she reiterated this promise; 
 and finally, when she parted from Digby, she repeat- 
 ed, as if it were a prophecy, " She shall see her sis- 
 ter." 
 
 Young persons are not apt to make a very exact 
 adjustment of means and ends, and our heroine cer- 
 tainly placed an undue confidence in the power of the 
 helpless old woman to accomplish her promise ; but 
 she needed not this to increase her present joy at her 
 success. She crept to her bed, and was awakened in 
 the morning, as she has herself related, with the in- 
 formation of Nelema's escape. She had now a part 
 to play to which she was unused : to mask her feel- 
 ings, affect ignorance, and take part in the conster- 
 nation of the assembled village. As may be ima- 
 gined, her assumed character was awkwardly enough 
 performed; but all were occupied with their own 
 surmises, and no one thought of her — no one except- 
 ing Mr. Pynchon, who had scarcely fixed his eye on 
 her when a suspicion that had before flashed on his 
 mind was confirmed. He knew, from the simplici- 
 ty of her nature, and from her habitual frankness, 
 that she would not have hesitated to avow^ her pleas- 
 ure in Nelema's escape if she had not herself been 
 accessory to it. He watched her averted eye, he 
 observed her unbroken silence, and her lips, that, in
 
 176 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 spite of all her efforts, played into an inevitable 
 smile at the superstitious surmises of some of the 
 wise people, whose philosophy had never dreamed 
 of that every-day axiom of modern times, that su- 
 pernatural aid should not be called in to interpret 
 events which may be explained by natural causes. 
 
 However satisfactory Mr. Pynchon's conclusions 
 were to himself, he confined them, for the present, 
 to his own bosom. He was a merciful man, and 
 probably felt an emotion of joy at the old woman's 
 escape, that could not be suppressed by the stern jus- 
 tice that had pronounced her worthy of death. But 
 while he easily reconciled himself to the loss of the 
 prisoner, he felt the necessity of taking instant and 
 efficient measures to subdue to becoming deference 
 and obedience the rash and lawless girl who had 
 dared to interpose between justice and its victim. 
 His heart recoiled from punishing her openly, and 
 he contented himself with insisting, in a private in- 
 terview with Mr. Fletcher, on the necessity of her 
 removal to a stricter control than his ; and recom- 
 mended, for a time, a temporary transfer of his neg- 
 lected authority to less indulgent hands. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher complied so far as to consent that 
 his favourite should be sent for a few months to Bos- 
 ton, to the care of Madam Winthrop, whose char- 
 acter being brought out by the light of her husband's 
 official station, was held up as a sort of pattern 
 throughout New-England. But we must, for the 
 present, pass by state characters — gallery portraits — 
 for the miniature picture that lies next our heart, and
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 177 
 
 which it is full time should be formally presented to 
 our readers, whose curiosity, we trust, has not been 
 sated by occasional glimpses. 
 
 Nothing could be more unlike the authentic, " thor- 
 oughly educated," and thoroughly disciplined young 
 ladies of the present day than Hope Leslie — as un- 
 like as a mountain rill to a canal — the one leaping 
 over rocks and precipices, sportive, free, and beauti- 
 ful, or stealing softly on, in unseen, unpraised love- 
 liness; the other, formed by art, restrained within 
 prescribed and formal limits, and devoted to utility. 
 Neither could anything in outward show be more 
 unlike a modern belle arrayed in the last Paris fash- 
 ion, than Hope Leslie in her dress of silk or muslin, 
 shaped with some deference to the fashion of the 
 day, but more according to the dictates of her own 
 skill and classic taste, which she followed somewhat 
 pertinaciously, in spite of the suggestions of her ex- 
 perienced aunt. 
 
 Fashion had no shrines among the Pilgrims : but 
 where she is most abjectly worshipped, it would be 
 treason against the paramount rights of Nature to 
 subject such a figure as Hope Leslie's to her tyranny. 
 As well might the exquisite classic statue be arrayed 
 in corsets, manches en gigot, garnitures en tulle, See 
 Her height was not above the medium standard of 
 her sex ; she was delicately formed ; the high health 
 and the uniform habits of a country life had endowed 
 her with the beauty with which Poetry has invested 
 Hebe ; while her love for exploring hill and dale, 
 ravine and precipice, had given her that elastic step
 
 178 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and ductile grace which belong to all agile animals, 
 and which made every accidental attitude such as 
 a painter would have selected to express the nymph- 
 like beauty of Camilla. 
 
 It is in vain to attempt to describe a face whose 
 material beauty, though that beauty may be faultless, 
 is but a medium for the irradiations of the soul. For 
 the curious, we would, if we could, set down the col- 
 our of our heroine's eyes; but, alas! it was undefi- 
 nable ; and appeared gray, blue, hazel, or black, as 
 the outward light touched them, or as they kindled 
 by the light of her feelings. 
 
 Her rich brown hair turned in light waves from 
 her sunny brow, as if it would not hide the beauty 
 it sheltered. Her mouth, at this early period of life, 
 had nothing of the seriousness and contemplation 
 that events might afterward have traced there. It 
 rather seemed the station of all-sportive, joyous, and 
 kindly feeling; and, at the slightest motion of her 
 thoughts, curled into smiles, as if all the breathings 
 of her young heart were happiness and innocence. 
 
 It may appear improbable that a girl of seventeen, 
 educated among the strictest sect of the Puritans, 
 should have had the open, fearless, and gay charac- 
 ter of Hope Leslie ; but it must be remembered that 
 she lived in an atmosphere of favour and indulgence, 
 which permits the natural qualities to shoot forth in 
 unrepressed luxuriance : an atmosphere of love, that, 
 like a tropical climate, brings forth the richest flow- 
 ers and most flavorous fruits. She was transferred 
 from the care of the gentlest and tenderest of moth-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 179 
 
 ers to Mr. Fletcher, who, though stern in his princi- 
 ples, was indulgent in his practice ; whose denying 
 virtues were all self-denying j and who infused into 
 the parental affection he felt for the daughter, some- 
 thing of the romantic tenderness of the lover of her 
 mother. Her aunt Grafton doted on her ; she was 
 the depository of her vanity as well as of her affec- 
 tion. To her simple tutor she seemed to imbody 
 all that philosophers and poets had set down in their 
 books of virtue and beauty ; and those of the old 
 and rigid, who w^ere above or below the influence of 
 less substantial charms, regarded the young heiress 
 with deference. In short, she was the petted lamb 
 of the fold. 
 
 It has been seen that Hope Leslie was superior 
 to some of the prejudices of the age. This may be 
 explained without attributing too much to her nat- 
 ural sagacity. Those persons she most loved, and 
 with whom she had lived from her infancy, were of 
 variant rehgious sentiments. Her father had be- 
 longed to the Established Church, and, though he 
 had much of the gay spirit that characterized the 
 cavaliers of the day, he was serious and exact in his 
 observance of the rites of the Church. She had oft- 
 en been her mother's companion at the proscribed 
 " meeting," and witnessed the fervour with which 
 she joined in the worship of a persecuted and suf- 
 fering people. Early impressions sometimes form 
 moulds for subsequent opinions ; and when, at a more 
 reflecting age, Hope heard her aunt Grafton rail with 
 natural good sense, and with the freedom, if not the
 
 180 HOPE LESLIE!. 
 
 point, of mother-wit, at some of the peculiarities of 
 the Puritans, she was led to doubt their infallibility ; 
 and, like the bird that spreads his wings, and soars 
 above the limits by which each man fences in his 
 own narrow domain, she enjoyed the capacities of 
 her nature, and permitted her mind to expand be- 
 yond the contracted boundaries of sectarian faith. 
 Her religion was pure and disinterested ; no one, 
 therefore, should doubt its intrinsic value, though it 
 had not been coined into a particular form, or re- 
 ceived the current impress. 
 
 Though the history of our heroine, like a treasured 
 flower, has only left its sweetness on the manuscript 
 page, from which we have amplified it, yet we have 
 been compelled to infer, from some transactions 
 which we shall faithfully record, that she had faults ; 
 but w^e leave our readers to discover them. Who 
 has the resolution to point out a favourite's defects ? 
 
 As our fair readers are not apt to be observant of 
 dates, it may be useful to remind them that Miss Les- 
 lie's letter was written in October. In the following 
 May, two ships from the mother country anchored at 
 the same time in Boston Bay. Some passengei^s from 
 each ship availed themselves of the facility of the pi- 
 lot-boat to go up to the town. Among others were 
 two gentlemen, who met now for the first time : the 
 one a youth, in manhood's earhest prime, with a frank, 
 intelligent, and benevolent countenance, over which, 
 as he strained his eyes to the shore, joy and anxiety 
 flitted with rapid vicissitude ; the other had advan* 
 ced farther into life : he might not be more than five-
 
 Hope Leslie. 181 
 
 and-thirty, possibly not so much ; but his face was 
 deeply marked by the ravages of the passions, or, 
 perhaps, the stirring scenes of life. His eyes were 
 black and piercing, set near together, and overhung 
 by thick black brows, whose incessant motion indi- 
 cated a restless mind. The concentration of thought, 
 or the designing purpose expressed by the upper part 
 of his face, was contradicted by his loose, open, flex- 
 ible lips. His complexion had the same puzzling 
 contrariety ; it was dark and saturnine, but enliven- 
 ed with the ruddy hue of a bon vivant. His nose 
 neither turned up nor down, was neither Grecian nor 
 Roman. In short, the countenance of the stranger 
 was a worthless dial-plate — a practical refutation of 
 the science of Physiognomy ', and, as the infallible 
 art of Phrenology was unknown to our fathers, they 
 were compelled to ascertain the character (as their 
 unlearned descendants still are) by the slow devel- 
 opment of the conduct. The person of the stranger 
 had a certain erect and gallant bearing that marks a 
 man of the world, but his dress w^as strictly Puritan- 
 ical ; and his hair, so far from being permitted the 
 " freedom of growing long," then deemed " a lux- 
 urious feminine prolixity," or being covered with 
 a wig (one of the abominations that, according to 
 Eliot, had brought on the country the infliction of 
 the Pequod war), was cropped with exemplary pre- 
 cision. But, though the stranger's apparel was elab- 
 orately Puritanical, still there was a certain elegance 
 about it which indicated that his taste had reluctant- 
 ly yielded to his principles. His garments were of 
 Vol. L—Q
 
 182 HOPE LESllE. 
 
 the finest materials, and exactly fitted to a form of 
 striking manly symmetry. His hair, it is true, was 
 scrupulously clipped, but, being thick and jet black, 
 it becomingly defined a forehead of uncommon white- 
 ness and beauty. In one particular he had departed 
 from the letter of the law, and, instead of exposing 
 his throat by the plain, open linen collar usually 
 worn, he sheltered its ugly protuberance with a fine 
 cambric ruff, arranged in box plaits. In short, 
 though, with the last exception, a nice critic could 
 not detect the most venial error in his apparel, yet 
 among the Puritans he looked much like a " dandy 
 Quaker" of the present day amid his sober-suited 
 brethren. 
 
 While the boat, impelled by a favouring tide and 
 fair breeze, glided rapidly towards the metropolis of 
 the now thriving colony, the gentlemen fell into con- 
 versation with the pilot. The elder stranger inquired 
 if Governor Winthrop had been re-elected. 
 
 " Yes, God bless him," replied the sailor, " the 
 worthy gentleman has taken the helm once more." 
 
 " Has he," asked the stranger, eagerly, *' declared 
 for King or Parliament ?" 
 
 " Ho ! I don't know much about their land-tackle," 
 replied the seaman ; " but, to my mind, the fastings 
 we have had all along when the king won the day, 
 and the rejoicings when the Parliament gained it, 
 was what you might call a declaration. Since you 
 speak of it, I do remember I heard the boys up in 
 town saying that our magistrates, at election, did 
 scruple about the oath, and concluded to leave out
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 183 
 
 that part which promises to bear true faith and alle- 
 giance to our sovereign lord, King Charles." 
 
 " So, we have thrown his majesty overboard, and 
 are to sail under Parliament colours ?" said the young 
 gentleman. " Well," he continued, " this might 
 have been predicted some five or six years since, for, 
 I remember, there were then disputes whether the 
 king's ensign should be spread there," and he point- 
 ed to the fortifications on Castle Island, past which 
 the boat was at that moment gliding. " They scruple 
 now about the oath. Then their consciences rebell- 
 ed against the red cross in the ensign, which, I re- 
 member, was called ' the Pope's gift,' * a relic of pa- 
 pacy,' ' an idolatrous sign,' &c." 
 
 " Scruples of conscience are ever honourable," 
 said the elder stranger ; " and, doubtless, your gov- 
 ernor has good reason for not complying with the 
 Scripture rule : ' render unto Csesar the things that 
 are Caesar's.' " 
 
 "There is no doubt of it," replied the seaman. 
 " The governor — God bless him ! — knows the rules 
 of the Good Book as well as I know the ropes of a 
 ship; and there is no better pilot than he for all 
 weathers, as he shows by not joining in the hue and 
 cry against the good creature tobacco. Fair winds 
 through life, and a pleasant harbour at last, do I wish 
 him for this piece of Christian love !" at the same 
 time he illustrated his benediction by putting a por- 
 tion of the favourite luxury in his mouth. 
 
 " I am sorry," said the young gentleman, " that 
 our magistrates have volunteered a public expression
 
 184 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 of their feelings ; their sympathies, of course, are 
 with the Parhament party ; they virtually broke the 
 yoke of royal authority when they left their native 
 land, and showed what value they set on liberty by 
 sacrificing for it every temporal good. Now they 
 have a right to enjoy their liberty in peace." 
 
 " Peace V' said the elder gentleman, emphatically ; 
 " thus it ever is with the natural man, crying peace, 
 peace, where there is no peace. Think you, young 
 man, that if the king were to recover his power, he 
 would not resume all the privileges he has formerly 
 granted to these people, who, thanks to Him whose 
 ark abideth with them ! show themselves so ready 
 to cast off their allegiance ?" 
 
 " The king, no doubt," replied the young gentle- 
 man, " would like to resume both power and posses- 
 sion ; but still I think we might retain our own, on 
 the principle that he had no right to give, and, in 
 truth, could not give what was not his, and what we 
 have acquired either by purchase of the natives or 
 by lawful conquest, W'hich gives us the right to the 
 vacuum domicilium.^^ 
 
 " I am happy to see, sir," said the elder gentle- 
 man, slightly bowing and smiling, " that your prin- 
 ciples, at least, are on the side of the Puritans." 
 
 " My feelings and principles both, sir ; but that 
 does not render me insensible to the happiness of the 
 adverse party, or the wisdom of all parties, which is 
 peace ; the peace which the generous Falkland so 
 earnestly invokes, every patriot may ardently desire. 
 Peace, if I may borrow^ a figure from our friend the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 185 
 
 pilot here, is a fair wind and a flood-tide, and war 
 a storm that must wreck some, and may wreck both 
 friend and foe." 
 
 The young gentleman seemed tired of the conver- 
 sation, and turned away, fixing his eager gaze on the 
 shore, towards which his heart bounded. His com- 
 panion, however, was not disposed to indulge him in 
 silence. " This town, sir," he said, " appears to be 
 familiar to you. I, alas ! am a stranger and a wan- 
 derer." This w^as spoken in a tone of unaffected se- 
 riousness. 
 
 " Of such this country is the natural home," repli- 
 ed the young man, regarding his companion for the 
 first time with some interest, for he had been repelled 
 by what seemed to him to savour of cant, of which 
 he had heard too much in the mother country. " I 
 should be happy, sir," he said, courteously, " to ren- 
 der my acquaintance with the town of any service 
 to you." 
 
 The stranger bowed in acknowledgment of the ci- 
 vility. " I would gladly," he said, " find entertain- 
 ment with some godly family here. Is Mr. Wilson 
 still teacher of the congregation ?" 
 
 " No, sir : if he were, you might securely count on 
 his hospitality, as it was so notorious that ^ come in, 
 you are heartily w'elcome,' w^as said to be the ana- 
 gram of his name. But, if he is gone, the doors 
 in Boston are always open to the stranger. Mr. 
 Cotton, I believe, is the present minister — is he not, 
 pilot ?" 
 
 " Yes, an please you, sir ; but I'm thinking," he 
 Q2
 
 186 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 added, with a leer, " that that butterfly will be an 
 odd fish to harbour with any of our right godly ones." 
 The young gentleman followed the direction of the 
 pilot's eye, and for the first time observed a lad, who 
 sat on one side of the boat, leaning over, and amu- 
 sing himself with lashing the v/aves with a fanciful 
 walking-stick. He overheard the pilot's remark, and 
 raised his head, as it appeared, involuntarily, for he 
 immediately averted it again, but not till he had ex- 
 posed a face of uncommon beauty. He looked about 
 fifteen. He had the full, melting dark eye and rich 
 complexion of southern cUmes; masses of jetty curls 
 parted on his forehead, shaded his temples and neck, 
 and " smooth as Hebe's was his unrazored lip." It 
 was obvious that it was his dress which had called 
 forth the sailor's sarcasm. The breast and sleeves 
 of his jerkin were embroidered ; a deep ponited rich 
 lace ruff embellished his neck, if a neck round and 
 smooth as alabaster could be embelhshed ; and his 
 head was covered with a little fantastic Spanish hat, 
 decorated with feathers. 
 
 " Does that youth appertain to you, sir ?" asked 
 the young gentleman of the elder stranger. 
 
 " Yes, he is a sort of dependant — a page of mine," 
 he replied, with an embarrassed manner; but in a 
 moment recovering his self-possession, he added, " I 
 infer, from the gratuitous remarks of our very frank 
 pilot, and from the survey you have taken of the lad, 
 that you think his apparel extraordinary." 
 
 " It might possibly," replied the young man, with 
 a smile, " offend against certain sumptuary laws of 
 our colony, and thus prove inconvenient to you."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 187 
 
 "Roslin, do you hear?" said the master to the 
 page, who nodded his head without raising it j " thy 
 finery, boy, as I have told thee, must be retrenched ;" 
 then turning to his companion, and lowering his 
 voice to a confidential tone, he added, " the lad hath 
 lived on the Continent, and hath there imbibed these 
 vanities, of which I hope in good time to reform 
 him; perhaps his youth hath overwrought v;ith my 
 indulgence in suffering them thus long." 
 
 The young gentleman courteously prevented any 
 farther, and, as he thought, unnecessary exculpation, 
 by saying " that the offence was certainly a very tri- 
 fling one, and if observed at all, would be, by the 
 most scrupulous, considered as venial in so young a 
 lad." He now again turned his ardent gaze to the 
 shore. " Ah ! there is the spire of the new meeting- 
 house," he said ; " and when I went away, the good 
 people assembled under a thatched roof, and within 
 mud walls." 
 
 " And I can remember," said the pilot, " for I was 
 among the first comers to the wilderness, when for 
 weeks the congregation met under an oak tree : and 
 there was heart-worship there, gentlemen, if there 
 ever was on the ball." 
 
 A church standing where Joy^s huildings are now 
 located was the only one then in Boston. The 
 greater part of the houses were built in its vicinity, 
 just about the heart of the peninsula, on whose stri- 
 king and singular form its first possessors aver they 
 saw written prophecies of its future greatness. Some 
 of its most prominent features have been softened by
 
 188 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 time, and others changed by the busy art of man. 
 Wharves, whole streets, and the noble granite mar- 
 ket-house (a prouder memorial to its founder than a 
 triumphal arch) now stand where the deep " cove" 
 stretched its peaceful harbour, between the two hills 
 that stood like towers of defence at its extremities. 
 That at the north rose to the height of fifty feet above 
 the sea, and on its level summit stood a windmill ; 
 towards the sea it presented an abrupt declivity, and 
 was fortified at its base by a strong battery. The 
 eastern hill was higher than its sister by some thirty 
 feet ; it descended kindly towards the town, and was 
 on that side planted with corn. Towards the sea its 
 steep and ragged cliffs announced that Nature had 
 formed it for defence ; and, accordingly, our fathers 
 soon fortified it with "store of great artillery," and 
 changed the first pastoral name of Corn-hill, which 
 they had given it, to the more appropriate designation 
 of Fort-hill. A third hill flanked the town, rising 
 to the height of one hundred and thirty-eight feet. 
 " All three," says Johnson, " like overtopping tow- 
 ers, keepe a constant watch to foresee the approach 
 of forrein dangers, being furnished with a beacon, 
 and loud babbling guns, to give notice, by their re- 
 doubled eccho, to all their sister townes." 
 
 Shawmut, a word expressing living fountains, was 
 the Indian name of Boston. Tri-mountain, its first 
 English name, and descriptive of Beacon Hill, which, 
 as we are told, rose in three majestic and lofty emi- 
 nences, the most eastern of these summits having on 
 its brow three little hillocks. Its present, and, as
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 189 
 
 we fondly believe, immortal name, was given with 
 characteristic reverence, in honour of one of its first 
 pastors, Mr. Cotton, who came from Boston, in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 But we return from this digression to our pilot- 
 boat, which now had nearly reached its landing- 
 place. A throng had gathered on the " town-dock" 
 in expectation of friends, or news from friends. In 
 vain did the young stranger's eye explore the crowd 
 for some familiar face ; he was obliged to check the 
 greetings that rose to his lips, and repress the 
 throbbings of his heart. " Time," he said, " has 
 wrought strano^e chancres. I fancied that even the 
 stones in Boston would know me; but now I see 
 not one welcoming look, unless it be in those barba- 
 ry and rose bushes, that appear just as they did the 
 last time I scrambled over Windmill Hill." They 
 now landed at the foot of this hill, and the young 
 gentleman told his companion that he should j^o to 
 his old home at Governor Winthrop's, where he was 
 sure of finding friends to welcome him. " And if 
 you will accompany me thither," he said, " I am cer- 
 tain our kind governor will render you all the cour- 
 tesies which, as a stranger, you may require." 
 
 This opportune offer was of course accepted ; 
 and the gentlemen proceeded like old acquaintances, 
 arm in arm together, after a short consultation be- 
 tween the master and page, the amount of which 
 seemed to be that the boy should attend him, and 
 await without Governor Winthrop's door farther 
 orders.
 
 190 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 They had not gone far, when, as they turned a 
 corner, two young ladies issued from the door of a 
 house a little in advance, and walked on without 
 observing them. The young gentleman quickened 
 his steps. ^' It must be she 1" he exclaimed, in a most 
 animated tone. ^' There is but one person in the 
 world that has such tresses !" and his eye rested on 
 the bright golden ringlets that peeped from beneath 
 a chip gipsy hat worn by one of the ladies. 
 
 " That is not a rational conclusion of yours," said 
 his companion. " Women have cunning devices by 
 which to change the order of Nature in the colouring 
 of the hair. I have seen many a court dame arrayed 
 in the purchased locks of her serving-maid ; besides, 
 you know it is the vain fashion of the day to make 
 much use of coloured powders, fluids, and unguents." 
 
 " That may all be ; but do you not see this 
 nymph's locks are, as Rosalind says, of the colour 
 God chooses ?" 
 
 " It were better, my friend, if you explained your 
 meaning without a profane quotation from a play, 
 a practice to which our godless cavaliers are much 
 addicted ; but pardon my reproof : age has privi- 
 leges." 
 
 "I do not know," replied the young gentleman, 
 " what degree of seniority may confer this privilege ; 
 if some half dozen years, I submit to your right ; and 
 the more readily, as I am just now too happy to 
 quarrel about anything ; but excuse me, I must quick- 
 en my pace to overtake this girl, who trips it along 
 as if she had Mercury's wings on those pretty feet."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 19l 
 
 " Ah, that's a foot to leave its print in the mem- 
 ory," said the elder gentleman, in an animated and 
 natural tone, that, eagerly as his companion was 
 pressing on, did not escape his observation. 
 
 They had now approached the parties they were 
 pursuing near enough to hear their voices and catch 
 a few words of their conversation. " You say it's 
 edifying, and all that," said the shortest of the two 
 young ladies, in reply to what seemed, from the tone 
 in which it was concluded, to have been an expostu- 
 lation ; " and I dare say, dear Esther, you are quite 
 right, for you are as wise as Solomon, and always in 
 the right ; but for my part, I confess, I had infinitely 
 rather be at home drying marigolds, and matching 
 embroidery silks for aunt Grafton." 
 
 " Hope Leslie ! by Heaven !" exclaimed the young 
 man, springing forward. The young lady turned at 
 the sound of her name, uttered a scream of joy, and, 
 under the impulse of strong affection and sudden de- 
 light, threw her arms around the stranger's neck, and 
 was folded in the embrace of Everell Fletcher. 
 
 The next instant, the consciousness that the street 
 was an awkward place for such a demonstration of 
 happiness, or, perhaps, the thought that the elegant 
 young man before her was no longer the playfellow 
 of her childhood, suffused her neck and face with the 
 deepest crimson ; and a sort of exculpatory excla- 
 m.ation of " I w^as so surprised !" burst from her lips, 
 and extorted a smile even from Everell's new ac- 
 quaintance, whose gravity had all the fixedness of 
 premeditation.
 
 19^ HOPE LESLIi:. 
 
 For a moment Everell's eyes were riveted to Hope 
 Leslie's face, which he seemed to compare with the 
 image in his memory. " Yes," he said, as if think- 
 ing aloud, " the same face that I saw, for the first 
 time, peeping through my curtains, the day Digby 
 brought me home to Bethel : how is Digby ? my 
 dear father ? Mrs. Grafton ? the Winthrops 1 ev- 
 erybody ?" 
 
 " All, all well ; but I must defer particulars till I 
 have introduced, you to my friend, Miss Downing." 
 
 "Miss Downing! is it possible!" exclaimed Ev- 
 erell ; and a recognition followed which showed that, 
 though he had not before observed the lady, who 
 had turned aside, and was sheltered under the thick 
 folds of a veil, the parties w^ere not unknown to each 
 other. Miss Leslie now drew her friend's arm with- 
 in hers, and, as she did so, she perceived she trem- 
 bled excessively ; but, too considerate to remark an 
 agitation which it was obvious the lady did not mean 
 to betray, she did not appear to notice it, and pro- 
 ceeded to give Everell such particulars of his friends 
 as he must be most impatient to hear. She told him 
 that his father was in Boston, and that, in compli- 
 ance with his son's wishes, he had determined to fix 
 his residence there. Everell was rejoiced at this de- 
 cision, for gloomy recollections were, in his mind, al- 
 ways associated with Bethel, and he was never hap- 
 py when he thought of the dangers to which Miss 
 Leslie was exposed there. 
 
 " My last letters from America," he said, " inform- 
 ed me that you had, as yet, no tidings from your 
 sister or my friend Magawisca»"
 
 irOPE LESLIE. 193 
 
 ^•'Nor have we now; still I cling to my belief 
 that my poor sister will some day be restored to me : 
 Nelema's promise is prophecy to me." 
 
 They had by this time reached Governor Win- 
 throp's. Miss Downing withdrew her arm from her 
 fi iend, with the intention of retiring to her own apart- 
 ment ; but her steps faltered, and she sunk down in 
 the first chair she could reach, hoping to escape all 
 observation in the bustle of joy occasioned by the 
 unexpected arrival of Everell ; and she did so, ex- 
 cepting that her aunt called the colour to her cheek 
 by saying, " My dear Esther, you have sadly fatigued 
 yourself; you are as pale as death !" and Hope Les- 
 lie, noticing that Everell cast stolen glances of anx- 
 ious inquiry at her friend, made, with the usual ac- 
 tivity of a romantic imagination, a thousand conjec- 
 tures as to the nature of their acquaintance. But 
 there was nothing said or done to assist her specula- 
 tions ; and while the governor was looking over a 
 letter of introduction, presented to him by Everell's 
 chance acquaintance, who had announced himself 
 by the name of Sir Philip Gardiner, the young ladies 
 withdrew to their own apartment. 
 
 Vol. L— R
 
 1^4 HO?E LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " A pensive nun, devout and pure, 
 Sober, steadfast, and demure." 
 
 Il Penseroso. 
 
 When the two ladies were alone, there were a 
 few moments of embarrassed and uninterrupted si- 
 lence, a rare occurrence between two confidential 
 young friends. Hope Leslie w^as the first to speak. 
 " Come, my dear Esther," she said, " it is in vain 
 for you to think of hiding your heart from me; if 
 you do not fairly conduct me through its mazes, I 
 shall make use of the clew you have dropped, and 
 find my own way through the labyrinth/' 
 
 " Hope Leshe ! what clew do you mean ? You 
 should not trifle thus." 
 
 " Well, then, I wall be as serious as you please, 
 and most solemnly demand why thou hast never 
 hinted to the friend of thy bosom that thou hadst 
 seen in thine own country this youth, Everell Fletch- 
 er, of w^hom I have, at divers times and sundry pla- 
 ces, most freely spoken to thee ?" 
 
 " I never told you I had not seen him." 
 
 " Oh no ! but methinks, for a godly, gracious 
 maiden as thou art, Esther — approved by our elders, 
 the pattern of our deacons' wives — your actions, as 
 well as your language, should be the Gospel * yea, 
 yea, and nay, nay 3' this 'paltering with a double
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 195 
 
 sense,' as the poet has it, would better become a pro- 
 fane damsel like myself." 
 
 " If I have lacked sincerity, I merit your reproach ; 
 but I meant to have told you. Mr. Fletcher's arri- 
 val now was unexpected — " 
 
 " And you were indisposed ? your nerves de- 
 ranged ? your circulations disordered ? I thought so 
 when I saw that burning blush, that looked, even 
 through the folds of your veil, as if it would set it on 
 fire ; but, now your surprise is over, why look so like 
 the tragic muse ? Raise up your eyes and look at 
 me, dear Esther, and do not let those long eyelashes 
 droop over your pale cheek like a weeping willow 
 over monumental marble." 
 
 " Oh, Hope Leslie ! if it were not sinful, I could 
 wish that monumental marble might press the clods 
 on my cold bosom." 
 
 Hope was startled at the unaffected solemnity and 
 deep distress of her friend : every pulsation of her 
 heart was audible, and her lips, which before were 
 as pale as death, became absolutely blue. She threw 
 her arms around her, and kissed her tenderly, 
 " Dear, dear Esther," she said, " forgive me for of" 
 fending thee. I never will ask thee anything again 
 — never, so long as I live. You may look glad or 
 sorry, blush or faint — do anything you please, and 
 I never will ask you for a reason." 
 
 " You are very kind, very generous, Hope ; but 
 have you not already guessed the secret I have striv- 
 en to hide ? You hesitate : answer me truly." 
 
 "Why, then, if I must answer truly, perhaps I
 
 196 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 have," replied Hope, looking, in spite of herself, as 
 archly as the mischievous little god, when he sees one 
 of his own arrows trembling in the heart ; " ' set a 
 thief to catch a thief,' dear Esther, is an old maxim ; 
 and, though I have never felt this nervous malady, 
 yet, you know, lam skilled in the books that describe 
 the symptoms, thanks to aunt Grafton's plentiful stock 
 of romances and plays." 
 
 " Oh, most unprofitable skill I But I have no right 
 to reproach thee, since what hath been but the sport 
 of thy imagination is my experience — degrading ex- 
 perience. Whatever it may cost me, you shall know 
 all, Hope Leslie. You have justly reproached me 
 with insincerity : I will at least hghten my con- 
 science of the burden of that sin." 
 
 Hope's curiosity was on tiptoe ; and, notwithstand- 
 ing her generous resolution not voluntarily to pene- 
 trate her friend's mystery, she was delighted with the 
 dawn of a disclosure which, she believed, would 
 amount to a simple confession of a tender sentiment. 
 She sincerely pitied Miss Downing's sufferings ; but 
 it is, perhaps, impossible for a third person to sym- 
 pathize fully with feelings of this nature. ^' Now, 
 Esther," she said, sportively, " fancy me to be the 
 priest, and yourself the penitent. Confess freely, 
 daughter ; our holy Church, through me, her most 
 unworthy servant, doth offer thee full absolution." 
 
 " Stop, stop, Hope Leslie ! do not trifle with holy 
 words and most unholy rites ; but listen seriously, and 
 compassionate a weakness that can never be forgot- 
 ten."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 197 
 
 Miss Downing then proceeded to relate some of 
 the following particulars ; but, as her narrative was 
 confused by her emotions, and as it is necessary our 
 readers should, for the sake of its illustration, be pos- 
 sessed of some circumstances which ^Yere omitted 
 by her, we here give it, more distinctly, in our own ; 
 language. 
 
 Esther was the daughter of Emanuel Downing, 
 the husband of Governor Winthrop's sister, so often 
 mentioned by that gentleman in his journal as the 
 faithful and useful friend of the Pilgrims, w^hom he 
 finally joined in New-England. 
 
 Esther Downing was of a reserved, tender, and 
 timid cast of character, and, being bred in the strict- 
 est school of the Puritans, their doctrines and prin- 
 ciples easily commingled with the natural qualities 
 of her mind. She could not have disputed the nice 
 points of faith, sanctification, and justification, with 
 certain celebrated contemporary female theologians, 
 but no one excelled her in the practical part of her 
 religion. In the language of the times, justification 
 was witnessed both by word and w^ork. 
 
 That young ladies were then indulged in a moder- 
 ate degree of personal embellishment, we learn from 
 one of the severest Pilgrim satirists, who avers that 
 he w^as " no cynic to the due hravery of the true 
 gentry," and allows that " a good text always de- 
 serves a fair margent." Miss Downing was certain- 
 ly a pure and beautiful '' text," but her attire never 
 varied from the severest Gospel simplicity. It is pos- 
 sible that she was fortified in this self-denying virtue 
 R 2
 
 198 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 by that lively little spirit that ever hovers about a 
 woman's toilet, whispering- in her ear that all the 
 arts of the tyring-woman could not improve the be- 
 comingness of her Madonna style. She wore her 
 hair, which was of a sober brown hue, parted on her 
 forehead, and confined behind in a braid that was so 
 adjusted, it may be accidentally, as to perfectly de- 
 fine the graceful contour of her head. Her com- 
 plexion was rather pale, but so exquisitely fair and 
 transparent that it showed the faintest tinge of col- 
 our, and set off to the greatest advantage features 
 which, if not striking, had the admitted beauty of 
 perfect symmetry. She was at least half a head tall- 
 er than our heroine or the Venus de Medicis ; but, 
 as neither of these were standards with the Pilgrims, 
 no one who ventured to speak of the personal graces 
 of Esther Downing ever impeached their perfection. 
 Spiritual graces were then in far higher estimation 
 than external charms; and Miss Downing, who 
 would have been a reigning belle in our degenerate 
 times, was always characterized by a religious epi- 
 thet ; she was the " godly" or the " gracious maid- 
 en." She attained the age of nineteen without one 
 truant wish straying beyond the narrow bound of 
 domestic duty and rehgious exercises ; but the course 
 of youth and beauty " never doth run smooth," and 
 the perils that commonly beset it now assailed the 
 tender Esther. 
 
 Everell Fletcher came to her father's to pass two 
 months. He had then, for some years, resided in the 
 family of his uncle Stretton, a moderate churchman,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 199 
 
 who, though he had not seen fit to eradicate the re- 
 ligious and poKtical principles that had been planted 
 in the mind of the boy, had so tempered them that, 
 to confess the truth, the man fell far below the stand- 
 ard of Puritanism. At first Esther was rather 
 shocked by the unsubdued gayety, the unconstrained 
 freedom, and the air of a man of society that distin- 
 guished Everell from the few demure, solemn young 
 men of her acquaintance ; but there is an irresistible 
 charm in ease, simplicity, and frankness, when chas- 
 tened by the refinements of education, and there is 
 a natural affinity in youth, even when there is no 
 resemblance in the character ; and Esther Downing, 
 who at first remained in Everell's presence but just 
 as long as the duties of hospitality required, soon 
 found herself lingering in the parlour, and strolling 
 in the walks that w^ere his favourite resort. It seem- 
 ed as if the sun had risen on her after a polar win- 
 ter, and cheerfulness and her pleasant train sprung 
 up in a mind that had been chilled and paralyzed by 
 the absence of w^hatever cherishes the gay temper of 
 youth ; but it was, after all, but the stinted growth 
 of a polar summer. 
 
 She felt a change stealing over her ; new thoughts 
 were in her heart, 
 
 " And love and happiness their theme." 
 
 She did not investigate the cause of this change, but 
 suffered the current of her feelings to flow uncheck- 
 ed, till she was roused to reflection by her serving- 
 maid, wdio said to her mistress one evening, when 
 she came in from a long moonlight walk with Ever-
 
 200 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ell, " Our worthy minister has been here to-day, and 
 he asked me what kept you from the lecture-room 
 so oft of late. I minded him it rained last night. 
 He said that in months past no tempest detained 
 you from the place of worship. I made no answer 
 to that ; besides that, it was not for me to gainsay the 
 minister. He stood as if meditating a minute, and 
 then he took up your psalm-book, and as he did so, 
 a paper dropped with some verses written on it, and 
 he said, with almost a smile, * Ah, Judy, then your 
 young lady tries her hand, sometimes, at versifying 
 the words of the royal psalmist V " 
 
 " Did he look at the lines, Judy ?" asked Esther, 
 blushing deeply with the consciousness that they were 
 but a profane sentimental effusion. 
 
 " Yes, my lady ; but he looked solemnized, and 
 said nothing more about them ; but, turning to me, 
 and speaking as if he would ask a question, he said, 
 * Judy, it was your mistress' wont to keep the wheel 
 of prayer in perpetual motion. I doubt not her pri- 
 vate duty is still faithfully done V I answered to 
 him that your honoured parents had been absent the 
 last week, and you had had company to entertain, 
 and were not quite as long at closet- exercise as 
 usual." 
 
 " Judy, you were very ready wdth your excuses 
 for me," said her mistress, after a moment's thought- 
 fulness. 
 
 "It must be a dumb dog indeed," replied the 
 girl, " that cannot bark for such a kind mistress as 
 thou art."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 201 
 
 How often does an accidentj a casual word even, 
 serve as a key to unlock feelings of which the pos- 
 sessor has been unconscious. The conscientious girl 
 was suddenly awakened from what appeared to her a 
 sinful dream. Had she perceived, on investigation, a 
 reciprocal sentiment in Everell Fletcher, she would 
 probably have permitted her feelings to flow in their 
 natural channel; but, not mingling with his, they 
 were like a stream that, being dammed up, flows 
 back, and spreads desolation where it should have 
 produced life and beauty. 
 
 The severest religionists of the times did not re- 
 quire the extinction of the tenderest human affec- 
 tions. On the contrary, there was, perhaps, never 
 a period when they were more frequently and per- 
 fectly illustrated. How many delicate women, whom 
 the winds of heaven had never visited roughly, sub- 
 scribed with their lives to that beautiful declaration 
 of affection from a tender and devoted wife : ^' Whith- 
 ersoever your fatall destinie," she said to her hus- 
 band, " shall dryve you, eyther by the furious waves 
 of the great ocean, or by the manifolde and horrible 
 dangers of the lande, I will surely beare you com- 
 pany. There can be no peryll chaunce to me so ter- 
 rible, nor any kynde of deathe so cruelle, that shall 
 not be much easier for me to abyde than to live so 
 farre separate from you." 
 
 But, though human affections were permitted, they 
 were to be in manifest subservience to religious devo- 
 tion : their encroachments were watched with a vi- 
 gilance resembhng the jealousy with which the Israel-
 
 202 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ites defended from every profane footstep the Holy 
 Circle around the ark of the living God. It was 
 this jealousy that now alarmed the fearful, supersti- 
 tious girl ; and, after some days of the most unspa- 
 ring self-condemnation, irnbittered by an indefinite 
 feeling of disappointment, she fell into a dangerous 
 illness, and in the paroxysms of her fever she pray- 
 ed fervently that her Creator would resume the spirit 
 which had been too weak to maintain its fidehty. 
 It seemed as if her prayer was soon to be granted ; 
 she felt herself, and was pronounced by her physician, 
 to be on the verge of the grave. She then was in- 
 spired with a strong desire, proceeding, as she be- 
 lieved, from a divine intimation, but which might 
 possibly have sprung from natural feeling, to open 
 her heart to Everell. This disclosure, followed by 
 her dying admonition, would, she hoped, rescue him 
 from the vanities of youth. She accordingly request- 
 ed her mother to conduct him to her bedside, and to 
 leave them alone for a few moments ; and when her 
 request was complied with, she made to the aston- 
 ished youth, in the simplicity and sincerity of her 
 heart, a confession that, in other circumstances, the 
 rack would not have extorted. 
 
 At first Fletcher fancied her reason was touched. 
 He soothed her, and attempted to withdraw to call 
 her attendants. She interpreted his thoughts, assured 
 him he was mistaken, and begged that he would not 
 waste one moment of her ebbing life. He then knelt 
 at her bedside, took her burning hand in his, and 
 bathed it with tears of deep commiseration and ten-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 203 
 
 (ler regret. He promised to lay up her exhortations 
 in his heart, and cherish them as the law of his life ; 
 but he did not intimate that he had ever felt a senti- 
 ment responding to hers. There was that in the so- 
 lemnity of the death-bed, in her purity and truth, 
 that would have rebuked the slightest insincerity, 
 however benevolent the feeling that dictated it. 
 
 This strange interview lasted but a few moments. 
 ]\Iiss Downing, in the energy of her feeling, raised 
 herself on her elbow ; the effort exhausted her, and 
 she sunk back in a stupor which appeared to be the 
 immediate precursor of death. Her friends flocked 
 round her, and Fletcher retired to his own room, 
 filled with sorrowful concern at the involuntary in- 
 fluence he had exercised on this sensitive being, who 
 seemed to him far better fitted for heaven than for 
 earth. 
 
 But Miss Downing was not destined yet to be 
 translated to a more congenial sphere. Her unbur- 
 dened heart reposed after its long struggles ; the 
 original cause of her disease was lightened, if not 
 removed ; and the elasticity of a youthful constitution 
 rose victorious over her malady. She never men- 
 tioned Everell Fletcher ; but she heard, incidental- 
 ly, that he had remained at her father's till she was 
 pronounced out of danger, and had then gone to his 
 uncle Stretton's in Suflfolk. 
 
 The following autumn, her father, in compliance 
 with a request of Madam Winthrop, and in the hope 
 that a voyage would benefit her health, which was 
 still delicate, sent her to Boston. There she met
 
 S64 
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope Leslie — a bright, gay spirit — an allegro to her 
 penseroso. They were unlike in everything that dis- 
 tinguished each ; and it was therefore more proba- 
 ble, judging from experience, that they would be- 
 come mutually attached. Whatever the theory of 
 the affections may be, the fact was that they soon 
 became inseparable and confidential friends. Hope 
 sometimes ventured to rally Esther on her over-scru- 
 pulousness, and Miss Downing often rebuked the 
 laughing girl's gayety ; but, however variant their 
 dispositions, they melted into each other like light 
 into shade, each enhancing the beauty and effect of 
 the other. 
 
 Hope often spoke of Everell, for he was associa- 
 ted with all the most interesting recollections of her 
 childhood, and probably with her visions of the fu- 
 ture ; for what girl of seventeen has not a lord for 
 her air-built castles ? 
 
 Miss Downing listened calmly to her description 
 of the hero of her imagination, but never, by word 
 or sign, gave token that she knew aught of him oth- 
 er than was told her 3 and the secret might have 
 died with her, had not her emotion at Everell's un- 
 expected appearance half revealed the state of her 
 heart to her quick-sighted friend. This revelation 
 she finished by a full confession, interrupted by tears 
 of bitter mortiiication. 
 
 " Oh I" she concluded, " had I but known how to 
 watch and rule my own spirit, I should have been 
 saved these pangs of remorse and shame." 
 
 " My dear Esther," said Hope, brushing away the
 
 riOPE LESLIE. ^05 
 
 tears of sympathy that suffused her eyes, " I assure 
 you I am not crying because I consider it a crying 
 case ; you people that dwell in the clouds have al- 
 ways a mist before you ; now I can see that your 
 path is plain, and sure the end thereof; just give 
 yourself up to my guidance, who, though not half 
 so good and wise as you are, am far more sure-foot- 
 ed. I do not doubt in the least Everell feels all he 
 ought to feel. I defy anybody to know you and not 
 love you, Esther. And do you not see that, if he 
 had made any declaration at the time, it might have 
 seemed as if he were moved by pity or gratitude ? 
 He knew you were coming to New-England, and 
 that he was to follow youj and now he has an- 
 ticipated his return by some wrecks, and why nobody 
 knows, and it must be because you are here : don't 
 you think so ? You will not speak, but I know by 
 your smile what you think as well as if you did." 
 
 Arguments appear very sound that are fortified by 
 our wishes, and Miss Downing's face w'as assuming 
 a more cheerful expression, when Jennet (our old 
 friend Jennet) came into the room to give the young 
 ladies notice to prepare for dinner, and to inform 
 them that Sir Philip Gardiner was to dine with them 3 
 " and a godly appearing man he is," said Jennet, 
 " as ever I laid my eyes on ; and it is a wonder to 
 me that our Mr. Everell should have fallen into such 
 profitable company ; for, I am sorry to see it and 
 loath to say it, he looks as gay as when he used to 
 play his mad pranks at Bethel ; when it was next to 
 an impossibility to keep you and him, Miss Hope, 
 
 Vol. I.^-S
 
 206 HOPE LESLiE. 
 
 from talking and laughing even on a Sabbath day. 
 I think," she continued, glancing her eye at Miss 
 Downing, " sober companions do neither of you any 
 good ; and it is so strange Mr. Everell should come 
 home with his hair looking like one of those heathen 
 pictures of your aunt's." 
 
 " Oh ! hush. Jennet ! It w^ould be a sin to crop 
 those dark locks of Mr. Everell." 
 
 " A sin indeed, Miss Leslie ! That is the w^ay you 
 always turn things wrong side out ; a sin to have his 
 hair cut like his father's — or the honourable govern- 
 or's — or this Sir Philip Gardiner's — or any other 
 Christian man's." 
 
 " Well, Jennet, I wish it would come into your 
 wise head that Christian tongues were not made for 
 railing. As to my being serious to-day, that is en- 
 tirely out of the question ; therefore you may spare 
 yourself hint and exhortation, and go to my aunt, 
 and ask her for my blue bodice and necklace. But 
 no — " she said, stopping Jennet, for she recollected 
 that she had directed the blue bodice because it 
 matched her blue fillet, Everell's gift, and a secret 
 voice told her she had best, under existing circum- 
 stances, lay that favourite badge aside. " No, Jen- 
 net, bring me my pink bodice and my ruby locket." 
 Jennet obeyed, but not without muttering, as she left 
 the room, a remonstrance against the vanities of dress. 
 
 Jennet was one of those persons, abounding in 
 every class of life, whose virtues are most conspicu- 
 ous in " damning sins they are not inclined to." 
 We ought, perhaps, to apologize for obtruding so
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 207 
 
 humble and disagreeable a personage upon our read- 
 ers. But the truth is, she figured too much on the 
 family record of the Fletchers to be suppressed by 
 their faithful historian. Those personages ycleped 
 bores in the copious vocabulary of modern times, 
 seem to be a necessary ingredient in life, and, like 
 pinching shoes and smoky rooms, constitute a por- 
 tion of its trials. Jennet had first found favour with 
 Mrs. Fletcher from her religious exterior. To em- 
 ploy none but godly servants was a rule of the Pil- 
 grims ; and there were certain set phrases and modes 
 of dress which produced no slight impression upon 
 the minds of the credulous. To do Jennet justice, 
 she had many temporal virtues; and though her re- 
 ligion was of the ritual order, and, therefore, partic- 
 ularly disagreeable to her spiritual mistress, yet her 
 household faculties were invaluable, for then, as now, 
 in the interior of New-England, a faithful servant 
 was hke the genius of a fairy tale — no family could 
 hope for more than one. 
 
 Long possession legalized Jennet's rights and in- 
 creased her tyrannical humours, which were natural- 
 ly most freely exercised on those members of the 
 family who had grown from youth to maturity under 
 her eye. In nothing was the sweetness of Hope Les- 
 lie's temper more conspicuous than in the perfect 
 good-nature with which she bore the teasing imper- 
 tinences of this menial, who, like a cross cur, was 
 ready to bark at every passer by. 
 
 Youth and beauty abridge the labours of the toilet, 
 and our young friends, though on this occasion unu-
 
 208 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 sually solicitous about the impression they were to 
 make, were not long in attiring themselves; and 
 when Mrs. Grafton presented herself to attend them 
 to dinner, they were awaiting her. "Upon my 
 word," she said, " young ladies, you have done hon- 
 our to the occasion ; it is not every day we have two 
 gentlemen fresh from Old England to dine with us ; 
 I am glad you have shown yourselves sensible of the 
 importance of the becomings. It is every woman's 
 duty, upon all occasions, to look as well as she can." 
 
 " And a duty so faithfully performed, my dear 
 aunt," said Hope, " that I fancy, like other duties, it 
 becomes easy from habit." 
 
 " Easy !" replied Mrs. Grafton, with perfect na- 
 "iveU ; "second nature, my dear, second nature. I 
 was taught, from a child, to determine, the first thing 
 in the morning, what I should wear that day ; and 
 now it is as natural to me as to open my eyes when 
 I Avake." 
 
 " I should think, madam," said Esther, " that oth- 
 er and higher thoughts were more fitting a rational 
 creature, preserved through the night-watches." 
 
 Hope was exquisitely susceptible to her aunt's 
 frailties, but she would fain have sheltered them 
 from the observation of others. " Now, my gentle 
 Esther," she whispered to Miss Downing, " lecturing 
 is not your vocation, and this is not lecture-day. On 
 jubilee-days slaves were set free, you know, and why 
 should not folhes be ?" 
 
 Miss Downing could not have failed to have made 
 some sage reply to her friend's casuistry, but the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 209 
 
 ringing of a bell announced the dinner, and the young 
 ladies, arm in arm, followed Mrs. Grafton to the di- 
 ning-room. Just as they entered, Hope whispered, 
 " Remember, Esther, the festal day is sacred, and 
 may not be violated by a sad countenance." This 
 ■was a well-timed caution ; it called a slight tinge to 
 Miss Downing's cheeks, and relieved her too ex- 
 pressive paleness. 
 
 Everell Fletcher met them at the door. The 
 light of his happiness seemed to gild every object. 
 He complimented Mrs. Grafton on her appearance ; 
 told her she had not in the least changed since he 
 saw her — an implied compliment, always, after a 
 woman has passed a certain age. He congratulated 
 Miss Downing upon the very apparent effect of the 
 climate on her health ; and then, breaking through 
 the embarrassment that slightly constrained him in 
 addressing her, he turned to Hope Leslie, and they 
 talked of the past, the present, and the future with 
 spontaneous animation, their feelings according and 
 harmonizing as naturally as the music of the stars 
 when they sang together. 
 
 S 2
 
 210 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Our New-England shall tell and boast of her Winthrop, a law- 
 giver as patient as Lycurgus, but not admitting any of his criminal 
 disorders ; as devout as Numa, but not liable to any of his heathen- 
 ish madnesses ; a governor in whom the excellences of Christianity 
 made a most improving addition unto the virtues, wherein, even with- 
 out those, he would have made a. parallel for the great men of Greece 
 or of Rome, which the pen of a Plutarch has eternized."— Cotton 
 Mather. 
 
 The governor's house stood in the main street 
 (Washington-street), on the ground now occupied 
 by " South Row." There was a little court in front 
 of it ; on one side a fine garden ; on the other a 
 beautiful lawn, or, as it was called, " green," ex- 
 tending to the corner on which the "Old South" 
 (Church) now stands, and an ample yard and offices 
 in the rear. 
 
 The mighty master of fiction has but to wave his 
 wand to present the past to his readers with all the 
 vividness and distinctness of the present j but we, 
 who follow him at an immeasurable distance — we, 
 who have no magician's enchantments, wherewith 
 we can imitate the miracles wrought by the rod of 
 the prophet — we must betake ourselves to the com- 
 pass and the rule, and set forth our description as 
 minutely and exactly as if we were making out an 
 inventory for a salesman. In obedience to this ne- 
 cessity, we offer the following detailed description
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 211 
 
 of the internal economy of a Pilgrim mansion, not 
 on any apocryphal authority, but quoted from an au- 
 thentic record of the times. 
 
 " In the principal houses was a great hall, orna- 
 mented with pictures ; a great lantern ; velvet cush- 
 ions in the window-seat to look into the garden : on 
 either side a great parlour, a little parlour or study, 
 furnished with great looking-glasses, Turkey carpets, 
 window-curtains and valance, picture and a map, a 
 brass clock, red leather-back chairs, a great pair of 
 brass andirons : the chambers well furnished with 
 feather beds, warming-pans, and every other ele- 
 gance and comfort : the pantry well filled with 
 substantial fare and dainties, Madeira wine, prunes, 
 marmalade, silver tankards and wine-cups not un- 
 common." 
 
 If any are incredulous as to the correctness of the 
 above extract, we assure them that its truth is con- 
 firmed by the spaciousness of the Pilgrim habitations 
 still standing in Boston, and occupied by their de- 
 scendants. These Pilgrims were not needy adven- 
 turers nor ruined exiles. Mr. Winthrop himself had 
 an estate in England worth seven hundred pounds 
 per annum. Some of his associates came from lordly 
 halls, and many of them brought wealth, as well as 
 virtue, to the colony. 
 
 The rigour of the climate, and the embarrassments 
 incident to their condition, often reduced the Pil- 
 grims, in their earliest period, to the wants of extreme 
 poverty ; but their sufferings had the dignity and 
 merit of being voluntary, and are now, as the tat-
 
 212 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 tered garments of the saints are to the faithful, sa- 
 cred in the eyes of their posterity. 
 
 Our humble history has little to do with the pub- 
 lic life of Governor Winthrop, which is so well 
 known to have been illustrated by the rare virtue of 
 disinterested patriotism, and by such even and pa- 
 ternal goodness, that a contemporary witty satirist 
 could not find it in his heart to give him a harsher 
 name than " Sir John Temperwell." His figure (if 
 we may trust to the fidelity of his painter) was tall 
 and spare ; his eye dark blue, and mild in its ex- 
 pression : he had the upraised brow, which is said to 
 be indicative of a religious disposition ; his hair and 
 his beard, which he w^ore long, w^ere black. On the 
 whole, we must confess, the external man presents 
 the solemn and forbidding aspect of the times in 
 which he flourished : though we know him to have 
 been a model of private virtue, gracious and gentle 
 in his manners, and exact in the observance of all 
 gentlemanly courtesy. 
 
 His wife was admirably qualified for the station 
 she occupied. She recognised, and continually 
 taught to matron and maiden, the duty of unquali- 
 fied obedience from the wife to the husband, her ap- 
 pointed lord and master -, a duty that it was left to 
 modern heresy to dispute, and which our pious fa- 
 thers, or even mothers, were so far from questioning, 
 that the only divine right to govern which they ac- 
 knowledged was that vested in the husband over 
 the wife. Madam Winthrop's matrimonial virtue 
 never degenerated into the slavishness of fear or the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 213 
 
 obsequiousness of servility. If authorized and ap- 
 proved by principle, it was prompted by feeling; 
 and, if we may be allowed a coarse comparison, like 
 a horse easy on the bit, she was guided by the slight- 
 est intimation from him who held the rein ; indeed, 
 to pursue our humble illustration still farther, it 
 sometimes appeared as if the reins were dropped, 
 and the inferior animal were left to the guidance of 
 her own sagacity. 
 
 Without ever overstepping the limits of feminine 
 propriety. Madam Winthrop manifestly enjoyed the 
 dignity of her official station, and felt that if the 
 governor were the greater, she was the lesser light. 
 There was a shght tinge of official importance in her 
 manner of conferring her hospitalities and her coun- 
 sel ; but she seemed rather to intend to heighten the 
 value of the gift than the merit of the giver. 
 
 Governor Winthrop possessed the patriarchal 
 blessing of a numerous offspring ; but, as they w'ere 
 in no way associated with the personages of our 
 story, we have not thought fit to encumber it with 
 any details concerning them. 
 
 We return from our long digression to the party 
 we left in Governor Winthrop's parlour. 
 
 The tables were arranged for dinner. Tables, we 
 say, for a side-table was spread, but in a manner so 
 inferior to the principal board, which was garnished 
 with silver tankards, wine-cups, and rich china, as to 
 indicate that it was destined for inferior guests. 
 This indication was soon verified ; for, on a servant 
 being sent to announce dinner to Governor Winthrop,
 
 214 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 who was understood to be occupied with some of the 
 natives on state business, that gentleman appeared, 
 attended by four Indians : Miantunnomoh, the young 
 and noble chief of the Narragansetts, two of his 
 counsellors, and an interpreter. Hope turned to 
 Everell to remark on the graceful gestures by which 
 they expressed their salutations to the company : 
 " Good Heavens !" she exclaimed, " Everell, what 
 ails you ?" for she saw that he was as pale as death. 
 
 *' Nothing, nothing," said Everell, wishing to 
 avoid observation, and turning towards the window : 
 he then added, in explanation to Hope, who follow- 
 ed him, " these are the first Indians I have seen since 
 my return, and they brought too vividly to mind 
 my dear mother's death." 
 
 Governor Winthrop motioned to his Indian guests 
 to take their seats at the side-table, and the rest of 
 the company, including the elder Fletcher and Cra- 
 dock, surrounded the dinner-table, and serving-men 
 and all reverently folded their arms and bowed their 
 heads while the grace or prefatory prayer was pro- 
 nouncing. 
 
 After all the rest had taken their seats, the Indians 
 remained standing; and although the governor po- 
 litely signified to the interpreter that their delay 
 wronged the smoking viands, they remained motion- 
 less, the chief drawn aside from the rest, his eye cast 
 down, his brow lowering, and his whole aspect ex- 
 pressive of proud displeasure. 
 
 The governor rose, and demanded of the interpret- 
 er the meaning of their too evident dissatisfaction.
 
 HOPE LESLie. 215 
 
 " My chief bids me say," replied the savage, " that 
 he expects such treatment from the English saga- 
 more as the English receive in the wigwam of the 
 Narragansett chief. He says that when the English 
 stranger visits him, he sits on his mat and eats from 
 his dish." 
 
 " Tell your chief," replied the governor, who had 
 urgent state reasons for conciliating Miantunnomoh, 
 " that I pray him to overlook the wrong I have done 
 him: he is right; he deserves the place of honour. 
 I have heard of his hospitable deeds, and that he 
 doth give more than even ground to his guests ; for 
 our friend, Roger Wilhams, informed us that he hath 
 known him, wdth his family, to sleep abroad to make 
 room in his wigwam for Enojlish visiters." 
 
 Governor Winthrop added the last circumstance 
 partly as a full confession of his fault, and partly as 
 an apology to his helpmate, who looked a good deal 
 disconcerted by the disarrangement of her dinner. 
 However, she proceeded to give the necessary orders ; 
 the table w^as remodelled, a sufficient addition made, 
 and the haughty chief, his countenance relaxing to 
 an expression of grave satisfaction, took his seat at 
 the governor's right hand. His. associates being 
 properly accommodated at the table, the rest of the 
 company resumed their stations. 
 
 Everell cast his eye around on the various viands 
 which covered the hospitable board. " Times have 
 mended," he said, to Madam Winthrop, " in my ab- 
 sence. I remember once sitting down with my fa- 
 ther to a good man's table, on which was nothing
 
 ^16 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 but a sorry dish of clams ; but our host made up for 
 the defect of his entertainment by the excess of his 
 gratitude, for, as I remember, he gave thanks that 
 ' we were permitted to eat of the abundance of the 
 seas, and of treasures hid in the sand.' " 
 
 Hope LesHe understood so well the temper of tlie 
 company she was in, that she instantly perceived a 
 slight depression of their mercury at what appeared 
 to them a tone of levity in Everell. She interposed 
 her shield. " What may we expect from the future," 
 she said, " if now it seems strange to us that, ten 
 years ago, the best in the colony were reduced to 
 living upon muscles, acorns, and ground-nuts ; and 
 that our bountiful governor, having shared his flour 
 and meat with the poorest in the land, had his last 
 batch of bread in the oven, w^hen the ship with suc- 
 cours arrived ? the Lion, or the Blessing of the Bay — 
 •which was it. Master Cradock ? for it was you who 
 told me the story," she added, bending towards Cra- 
 dock, who sat opposite to her. 
 
 Cradock, who always felt, at the least notice from 
 Hope, an emotion similar to that of a pious Catholic 
 when he fancies the image of the saint he worships 
 to bend propitiously towards him — Cradock dropped 
 his knife and fork, and erecting his body with one 
 of those sudden jerks characteristic of awkward men, 
 he hit the elbow of a servant, who was just placing 
 a gravy-boat on the table, and brought the gravy 
 down on his little brown wig, whence it found its 
 way, in many a bubbling rill, over his face, neck, 
 and shoulders.
 
 ilOPE LESLIE. Sl^ 
 
 A murmur of sympathy and suppressed laughter 
 ran around the table ; and while a servant, at his 
 mistress's bidding, was applying napkins to Cradock, 
 he seemed only intent upon replying to Miss Leslie. 
 " It was the Lion, Miss Hope ; ha, indeed, a won- 
 derful memory ! yes, yes, it was the Lion. The 
 Blessing of the Bay was the governor's own vessel." 
 
 " That name," said Sir Philip Gardiner, in a low 
 tone to Hope Leslie, next w^hom he sat, " should, I 
 think, have been reserved, where names are signifi- 
 cant, for a more just appropriation." 
 
 He spoke in a tone of confidential gallantry so 
 discordant with his demeanour, that the fair listener 
 lost the matter in the manner; and, turning to him 
 W'ith one of those looks so confounding to a man w^ho 
 means to speak but to one ear in the company, 
 " What did you say, sir V she asked. 
 
 " He said, my dear," said Mrs. Grafton, who sat 
 at the knight's left hand, and who would have con- 
 sidered it worse to suppress a compliment than to 
 conceal treason, " he said, my dear, that you should 
 have been named the Blessing of the Bay." 
 
 Sir Philip recoiled a little at this flat version of 
 his compliment; but he had other interests to sus- 
 tain more important than his knightly courtesy, and 
 he was just contriving something to say which might 
 secure him a safe passage past Scylla and Charyb- 
 dis, when Madam Winthrop, who was exclusively 
 occupied with the duty of presiding, begged Sir 
 Philip w^ould change his plate, and take a piece of 
 wild turkey, which she could recommend as savoury 
 
 Vol. L—T
 
 218 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and tender ; or a piece of the venison — the venison, 
 she said, was a present from the son of their good old 
 friend and ally, Chicatabot, and she was sure it was 
 of the best. 
 
 The knight declined the proffered delicacies, aU 
 leging he had already been tempted to excess by 
 the cod's head and shoulders — a rarity to a Euro- 
 pean. 
 
 " But," said Miss Leslie, " you will not dine on 
 fish alone, and on Friday too ? why, w^e shall suspect 
 you of being a Romanist." 
 
 If there was anything in the unwonted blush that 
 deepened the knight's complexion which might lead 
 an observer to suspect that an aimless dart had 
 touched a vulnerable point, he adroitly averted sus- 
 picion, by saying " that he trusted temperance and 
 self-denial w^ere not confined to a corrupt and super- 
 stitious Church, and that, for himself, he found much 
 use in voluntary mortifications of appetite." 
 
 " Fastings oft," said Cradock, who had been play- 
 ing the part of a valiant trencherman, taking liber- 
 ally of all of the various feast, " fastings oft are an 
 excellent thing for those who have grace for them ; 
 and yours, Sir Philip, if one may judge from the rud- 
 diness of your complexion, are wonderfully prosper- 
 ed." The knight received the simple compliment 
 with a silent bow. 
 
 Cradock turned to Miss Downing, who sat on his 
 right : " Now, Miss Esther, you do wrong yourself; 
 there is that pigeon's wing, just as I gave it to you 1" 
 
 Hope Leslie looked up with a deprecating glance,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 219 
 
 as if she would have said, " Heaven help my tutor ! 
 he never moves without treading on somebody's 
 toes." 
 
 "Is not Miss Downing well?" asked the elder 
 Fletcher, who now, for the first time, noticed that she 
 looked unusually pale and pensive. 
 
 " Perfectly well," said Esther. 
 
 " Indifferently well, my dear, you mean," said 
 Madam Winthrop. " Esther," she added, " always 
 feeds like a Canary bird ; but I never despair of a 
 young lady : they have all the chameleon gift of liv- 
 ing upon air." 
 
 " Will Miss Downing mend her appetite with 
 wine," asked young Fletcher, " and allow me the 
 honour of taking it with her ?" 
 
 " Everell !" exclaimed Hope, touching his elbow, 
 but not in time to check him. 
 
 " My son !" said his father, in a voice of rebuke. 
 
 " Mr. Fletcher !" exclaimed Governor Winthrop, 
 in a tone of surprise. 
 
 " What have I done now ?" asked Everell of Hope 
 Leslie; but Hope was too much diverted with his 
 mistake and honest consternation to reply. 
 
 " You have done nothing inexcusable, my young 
 friend," said the governor ; " for you probably did 
 not know that the vain custom of drinking one to 
 another, has been disused at my table for ten years ; 
 and that our general court prohibited this ' employ- 
 ment of the creature out of its natural use' by their 
 order in the year of our Lord 1639, four years since ; 
 so that the custom hath become quite obsolete with
 
 220 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 US, though it may be still in practice among our lax- 
 er brethren of England." 
 
 " With due deference I speak," said Everell, " to 
 my elders and superiors ; but it really appears to me 
 to border on the Quixotism of fighting windmills to 
 make laws against so innocent a custom." 
 
 " No vanity is innocent, Mr. Everell Fletcher," 
 replied the governor, " as you will yourself, after 
 proper consideration, confess. Tell me, when but 
 now you would have proffered wishes of health to 
 my niece Esther, was it not an empty compliment, 
 and not meant by you for an argument of love, which 
 should always be unfeigned ?' 
 
 The governor's proposition appeared to himself 
 to be merely an abstract metaphysical truth ; but to 
 the younger part of his audience, at least, it convey- 
 ed much more than met the ear. 
 
 Miss Downing blushed deeply, and Everell at- 
 tempted, in vain, to stammer a reply. Hope Leslie 
 perceived the pit, and essayed a safe passage over it. 
 "Esther," she said," Everell shall not be our knight 
 at tilt or tournament, if he cannot use the lance your 
 uncle has dropped at his feet. Are there not always, 
 Everell, in your heart, arguments of love unfeigned 
 when you drink to the health of a fair lady ?" 
 
 Before Everell had time to reply except by a 
 sparkling glance, the governor said, " This is some- 
 what too light a discussion of a serious topic." 
 
 This rebuke quenched at once the spark of gayety 
 Hope had kindled ; and the dinner, never a prolonged 
 meal in this pattern mansion, was finished without
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 221 
 
 any other conversation than that exacted by the or* 
 dinary courtesies of the table. 
 
 After the repast was ended, the Indian chief took 
 his leave with much fainter expressions of attachment 
 than he had vouchsafed on a former visit, as the gov- 
 ernor had afterward occasion to remember. 
 
 The party dispersed in various directions, and the 
 governor withdrew, with the elder Fletcher, to his 
 study. When there. Governor Winthrop lighted his 
 pipe, a luxury in which he sparingly indulged ; and 
 then, looking over a packet of letters, he selected 
 one and handed it to Mr. Fletcher, saying, " There 
 is an epistle from Brother Downing which your son 
 has brought to me. Read it yourself; you will per- 
 ceive that he has stated his views on a certain sub- 
 ject, interesting to you and to us all ; and stated 
 them directly, without any of the circumlocution and 
 ambiguity which a worldly-minded man would have 
 employed on a like occasion." 
 
 Mr. Downing introduced the important topic of his 
 epistle, Avhich Mr. Fletcher read with the deepest at- 
 tention, by saying that " Fletcher, junior, returns to 
 the colony a fit instrument, as I trust, to promote its 
 welfare and honour. He is gifted with divers and 
 goodly talents, and graced with sufficient learning. 
 
 " I have often been sorely wounded at hearing the 
 censures passed on our brother Fletcher for having 
 sent his son into the bosom of a prelatical family, 
 but I confidently believe the youth returns to his 
 own country with his Puritan principles uncorrupted ; 
 although, it is too true, as our stricter brethren often 
 T2
 
 222 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 remark^ that he has little of the outward man of a 
 * Pilgrim indeed.' 
 
 " He is, Brother Winthrop, a high-metalled youth, 
 and on this account I feel, as you doubtless will, the 
 urgency of coupling him with a member of the con- 
 gregation, and one who may, in all likelihood, ac- 
 complish for him that precious promise of the apos- 
 tle, ' the believing wife shall sanctify the unbelieving- 
 husband.' 
 
 "I have already taken the first step towards 
 bringing about so desirable an end, by inviting the 
 young man to my house, where he spent two months 
 of the summer. I then favoured his intimate inter- 
 course with my well-beloved daughter Esther, whose 
 outward form I may say, without boasting, is a fit 
 temple for the spirit within." 
 
 Mr. Downing then proceeded to state some cir- 
 cumstances already known to the reader, and par- 
 ticularly dwelt on Everell's remaining at his house 
 during his daughter's dangerous illness ; touched 
 lightly on their having had an interview, very affect- 
 ing to both parties, and in regard to the particulars 
 of which, both, with the shyness natural to youth, 
 had been silent; and finally set forth, in strong 
 terms, the concern evinced by Everell while Esther's 
 recovery was doubtful. 
 
 "Notwithstanding," the letter proceeded to say, 
 " these circumstances are so favourable to my wish- 
 es, I have some apprehensions ; and therefore, broth- 
 er, I bespeak your immediate interposition in behalf 
 of the future spiritual prosperity of this youth. He
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 223 
 
 hath been assiduously courted by Miss Leslie's pa- 
 ternal connexions, and I have reason to believe they 
 have solicited him to marry her and bring her to 
 England. But, without such solicitation, the mar- 
 riage is a probable one. Miss Leslie is reported 
 here to be wanting in grace — a want that I fear 
 would not impoverish her in young Fletcher's esti- 
 mation ; and to be a maiden of rare comeliness — a 
 thing precious in the eyes of youth, too apt to set a 
 high price on that which is but dust and ashes. 
 The young lady is of great estate too ; but that, I 
 think, will not weigh with the young man, for I dis- 
 cern a lofty spirit in him that would spurn the yoke 
 of Mammon. Nor do I think, with some of our 
 brethren, that ^ gold and grace did never yet agree.' 
 Yet there are some who would make this alliance a 
 ground of farther scandal against our brother Fletch- 
 er. It is whispered that his worldly affairs are not 
 so prosperous as we could wish. Mark me, brother, 
 my confidence in him is unmoved, and I think, and 
 am sure, that he would not permit his son to espouse 
 this maiden, with the dowry of a queen, if thereby 
 he endangered his spiritual welfare. But, brother, 
 you in the New World are as a city set on a hill. 
 Many lie in wait for your halting, and all appearance 
 of evil should be avoided. On this account and 
 many others. Brother Fletcher and all of us should 
 duly prize that medium and safe condition for which 
 Agur prayed. 
 
 " One more reason I would suggest, and then com- 
 mend the business to thy guidance, who art justly
 
 224 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 termed, by friend and foe, the Moses of God's people 
 in the wilderness. 
 
 "It seemeth to me, the motive of Miss Leslie's 
 mother, in going with her offspring to the colony, 
 should be duly weighed and respected. Could her 
 purpose, in any other way, be so certainly accom- 
 pHshed as by uniting her daughter speedily with a 
 godly and approved member of the congregation ?" 
 
 Every sentence of this letter stung Mr. Fletcher. 
 He repeatedly threw it down, rose from his seat, and 
 after taking two or three turns across the study, 
 screwed his courage to the sticking point, and re- 
 turned to it again. Governor Winthrop's attention 
 appeared to be riveted to a paper he was perusing, 
 till he could no longer, from motives of delicacy to 
 his friend, affect to abstract his attention from him. 
 Mr. Fletcher finished the letter, and leaning over the 
 table, covered his face with his hands. His emotion 
 could not be hidden. The veins in his temples and 
 forehead swelled almost to bursting, and his tears fell 
 like rain-drops on the table. Governor Winthrop 
 laid his hand on his friend's arm, and by a gentle 
 pressure expressed a sympathy that it would have 
 been difficult to imbody in words. 
 
 After a few moments' struggle with his feelings, 
 Mr. Fletcher subdued his emotion, and turning to 
 Governor Winthrop, he said, with dignity, " I have 
 betrayed before you a weakness that I have never 
 expressed but in that gracious Presence where w^eak- 
 ness is not degradation. Thus has it ever pleased 
 Him, who knows the infirmity of my heart, to try me.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 225 
 
 From my youth my path hath been hedged up with 
 earthly affections. Is it that I have myself forged the 
 fetters that bind me to the earth ? Is it that I have 
 given to the creature what I owed to the Creator, 
 that one after another of my earthly delights is taken 
 from me ? that I am thus stripped bare ? Oh ! it 
 has been the thought that came unbidden to my 
 nightly meditations and my daily reveries, that I 
 might live to see these children of two saints in 
 heaven united. This sweet child is the image of her 
 blessed mother. She was her precious legacy to me, 
 and she hath been such a spirit of love and content- 
 ment in my lone dwelling, that she hath inwrought 
 herself with every fibre of my heart." 
 
 " This was natural," said Governor Winthrop. 
 
 " Ay, my friend, and was it not inevitable ? I did 
 think," he continued, after a momentary pause, " that 
 in their childhood, their affections, as if instinct with 
 their parents' feelings, mingled in natural union ; if 
 their hearts retain this bent, I think it were not right 
 to put a force upon them." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied his friend ; " but the af- 
 fections of youth are flexible, and may be turned 
 from their natural bent by a skilful hand. It is our 
 known duty to direct them heavenward. In taking 
 care for the spiritual growth of our young people, 
 who are soon to stand in their father's places, we 
 do, as we are bound, most assuredly build up the in- 
 terests of our Zion. I should ill deserve the honour- 
 able name my brethren have given me if I were not 
 zealous over our youth. In fearing any opposition
 
 226 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 from the parties in question, I think, my worthy 
 brother, you disquiet yourself in vain. It appeareth 
 from Downing's letter that there hath been tender 
 passages between your son and his daughter Esther ; 
 and even if Hope Leslie hath fed her fancies with 
 thoughts of Everell, yet I think she would be for- 
 ward to advance her friend's happiness ; for, not- 
 withstanding she doth so differ from her in her gay 
 carriage, their hearts appear to be knit together." 
 
 " You do my beloved child but justice ; what is 
 difficult duty to others hath ever seemed impulse in 
 her ; and I have sometimes thought that the cove- 
 nant of works was to her a hinderance to the cove- 
 nant of grace ; and that, perhaps, she would hate sin 
 more for its unlawfulness if she did not hate it so 
 much for its ugliness." 
 
 Governor Winthrop thought his friend went a lit- 
 tle too far in magnifying the virtue of his favourite. 
 " Pardon," he said, " the wounds inflicted by a friend ; 
 they are faithful. I have thought the child rests too 
 much on 'performances ; and you must allow, broth- 
 er, that she hath not — I speak it tenderly — that pass- 
 iveness that, next to godhness, is a woman's best 
 virtue." 
 
 " I should scarcely account," replied Mr. Fletch- 
 er, " a property of soulless matter a virtue." This 
 was spoken in a tone of impatience that indicated 
 truly that the speaker, like an over-fond parent, 
 could better endure any reproach cast on himself 
 than the slightest imputation on his favourite. Gov- 
 ernor Winthrop was not a man to shrink from inflict-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. ^S7 
 
 ing what he deemed a salutary pain because his pa- 
 tient recoiled from his touch j he therefore proceeded 
 in his admonition. 
 
 " Partiality is dangerous, as we see in the nota- 
 ble history of David and Absalom, and elsewhere ; 
 and perhaps it was your too great indulgence that 
 imboldened the child to the daring deed of violating 
 the law by the secret release of the condemned." 
 
 " That violation rests upon suspicion, not proof," 
 said Mr. Fletcher, hastily. 
 
 " And why," replied Governor Winthrop, smiling, 
 " is it permitted to rest on suspicion 1 from respect 
 to our much-suffering Brother Fletcher, and consid- 
 eration of the youth of the offender, we have winked 
 at the offence. But we will pass that ; I would be 
 the last to lift the veil that hath fallen over it ; I 
 only alluded to it to enforce the necessity of a strict- 
 er watch over this lawless girl. Would it not be 
 wise and prudent to take my brother's counsel, and 
 consign her to some one who should add to affection 
 the authority of a husband ?" 
 
 Governor Winthrop paused for a reply, but re- 
 ceiving none, he proceeded : " One of our most 
 promising youth hath this day discoursed to \ne of 
 Hope Leslie, and expressed a matrimonial intent to- 
 wards her." 
 
 " And who is this ?" demanded Mr. Fletcher. 
 
 " WilKam Hubbard — the youth who hath come 
 with so much credit from our prophets' school at 
 Cambridge. He is a discreet young man, steeped 
 in learning, and of approved orthodoxy."
 
 22§ HOPE LESLtn. 
 
 " These be cardinal points with us," replied Mr. 
 Fletcher, calmly, " but they are not like to commend 
 him to a maiden of Hope Leslie's temper. She in- 
 clineth not to bookish men, and is apt to vent her 
 childish gayety upon the ungainly ways of scholars." 
 
 Thus our heroine, by her peculiar taste, lost at 
 least the golden opportunity of illustrating herself 
 by a union with the future historian of New-Eng- 
 land. 
 
 After a little consideration the governor resumed 
 the conversation. " It is difficult," he said, " to suit 
 a maiden who hath more whim than reason : what 
 think you of Sir Philip Gardiner 1" 
 
 " Sir Philip Gardiner ! a new-comer of to-day ! 
 and old enough to be the father of Hope Leslie !" 
 
 " The fitter guide for her youth. Besides, broth- 
 er, you magnify his age : he is still on the best side 
 of forty. He is a man of good family, who, after 
 having fought on the side where his birth naturally 
 cast him, hath been plucked, as a brand from the 
 burning, by the preaching and exhortation of the 
 godly Mr. Wilkins; and feeling, as he declares, a 
 pious horror at the thought of imbruing his hands any 
 farther in blood, he hath come to cast his lot among 
 us, instead of joining our friends in England." 
 
 " Hath he credentials to verify all these particu- 
 lars ?" 
 
 Governor Winthrop coloured slightly at an inter- 
 rogatory that implied a deficiency of wariness on his 
 part, and replied, " That he thought the gentleman 
 scarcely needed other than he carried in his language
 
 iiOPE LESLIE. 229 
 
 arid deportment, but that he had come furnished with 
 a letter of introduction satisfactory in all points." 
 
 " From whom ?" inquired Mr. Fletcher. 
 
 " From one Jeremy Austin, who expresseth him- 
 self as, and Sir Philip says is, a warm friend to us." 
 
 " Is he known to you 1" 
 
 " No ; but I think 1 have heard him mentioned as 
 a well- wilier to our colony." 
 
 This was not perfectly satisfactory to Mr. Fletch- 
 er, but he forbore to press the point farther, and 
 turned his attack to that part of the suggestion that 
 appeared most vulnerable. " Methinks," he said, 
 " you are over-hasty in proposing to match Hope 
 Leslie wuth this stranger." 
 
 " Nay, I meant not a formal proposition. I noted 
 that Sir Philip was struck with Hope's outward gra- 
 ces. He is an uncommon personable man, and hath 
 that bearing that finds favour in maidens' eyes, and 
 the thought came to me that he may have been sent 
 here, in good time, to relieve all our perplexities; 
 and, to confess the truth, brother, if I may use the 
 sporting language of our youth, I am impatient to 
 put jesses on this wild bird of yours while she is on 
 our perch. But, to be serious, and surely the sub- 
 ject doth enforce us to it, I am satisfied that you will 
 not oppose any means that may offer to secure the 
 lambs of our flock in the true fold." 
 
 "I shall oppose nothing that will promote the 
 spiritual prosperity of those dear to me as my own 
 soul. I have no reason to doubt my son's filial obe- 
 dience ; he hath never been wanting ', and, though 
 
 Vol. L—U
 
 230 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 both he and I have fallen under censure, I see not 
 that I erred in sending him from me, since I but com- 
 plied with the last request of his sainted mother, and 
 that compliance deprived me of the only child left 
 of my little flock. I speak not vauntingly ; but let 
 not those who have remained in Egypt condemn 
 him who has drank of the bitterest waters of the wil- 
 derness." Mr. Fletcher, finding himself again yield- 
 ing to irrepressible emotions, rose and hastily left his 
 jnore equal-tempered and less interested friend. 
 
 Thus did these good men, not content with their 
 magnanimous conflict with necessary evils, involve 
 themselves in superfluous trials. Whatever gratified 
 the natural desires of the heart was questionable, and 
 almost everything that was difficult and painful as- 
 sumed the form of duty. As if the benevolent Fa- 
 ther of all had stretched over our heads a canopy of 
 clouds instead of the bright firmament, and its glori- 
 ous host, and ever-changing beauty, and had spread 
 under our feet a wilderness of bitter herbs instead 
 of every tree and plant yielding its good fruit. But 
 "we would fix our eyes on the bright halo that encir* 
 cled the Pilgrim's head, and not mark the dust that 
 sometimes sullied his garments.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 <' Then crush, even in their hour of birth, 
 The infant buds of love, 
 And tread his glowing fire to earth. 
 Ere 'tis dark in clouds above." 
 
 Halleck. 
 
 The observance of the Sabbath began with the 
 Puritans, as it still does with a great portion of their 
 descendants, on Saturday night. At the going down 
 of the sun on Saturday, all temporal affairs were 
 suspended ; and so zealously did our fathers main- 
 tain the letter as well as the spirit of the law, that, 
 according to a vulgar tradition in Connecticut, no 
 beer was brewed in the latter part of the Aveek, lest 
 it should presume to work on Sunday. 
 
 It must be confessed that the tendency of the age 
 is to laxity ; and so rapidly is the wholesome strict- 
 ness of primitive times abating, that, should some 
 antiquary, fifty years hence, in exploring his garret 
 rubbish, chance to cast his eye on our humble pages, 
 he may be surprised to learn that even now the Sab- 
 bath is observed, in the interior of New-England, 
 with an almost Judaical strictness. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon an uncommon bustle is ap- 
 parent. The great class of procrastinators are hur- 
 rying to and fro to complete the lagging business of 
 the week. The good mother^j like Burns's matron,
 
 232 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 are plying their needles, making " auld claes look 
 amaist as weel's the new;" while the domestics, or 
 help* (we prefer the national descriptive terra), are 
 wielding with might and main their brooms and 
 mops, to make all tidy for the Sabbath. 
 
 As the day declines, the hum of labour dies away, 
 and after the sun is set, perfect stillness reigns in ev- 
 ery well-ordered household, and not a footfall is 
 heard in the village street. It cannot be denied, 
 that even the most spiritual, missing the excitement 
 of their ordinary occupations, anticipate their usual 
 bedtime. The obvious inference from this fact is 
 skilfully avoided by certain ingenious reasoners, who 
 allege that the constitution was originally so orga- 
 nized as to require an extra quantity of sleep on 
 every seventh night. We recommend it to the cu- 
 rious to inquire how this peculiarity was adjusted 
 "when the first day of the \veek was changed from 
 Saturday to Sunday. 
 
 The Sabbath morning is as peaceful as the first 
 hallowed day. Not a human sound is heard without 
 the dwellings, and, but for the lowing of the herds, 
 the crowing of the cocks, and the gossiping of the 
 birds, animal hfe would seem to be extinct, till, at 
 the bidding of the church-going bell, the old and 
 young issue from their habitations, and with solemn 
 demeanour bend their measured steps to the meetings 
 house. The family of the minister — the squire — the 
 doctor — the merchants — the modest gentry of the 
 
 ♦ Mr. Mathews (nice observer as he is), as well as many ofher 
 foreigners, mistakes in adding an s to this word for the plural.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 233 
 
 village, and the inechanic and labourer, all arrayed 
 in their best, all meeting on even ground, and all 
 with that consciousness of independence and equali- 
 ty which breaks down the pride of the rich, and res- 
 cues the poor from servility, envy, and discontent. 
 If a morning salutation is reciprocated, it is in a sup- 
 pressed voice ; and if, perchance. Nature, in some 
 reckless urchin, burst forth in laughter, " My dear, 
 you forget it's Sunday !" is the ever ready reproof. 
 
 Though every face w^ars a solemn aspect, yet we 
 once chanced to see even a deacon's muscles relaxed 
 by the w^it of a neighbour, and heard him allege, in 
 a half deprecating, half laughing voiccj " The squire 
 is so droll that a body must laugh, though it be Sab- 
 bath-day." 
 
 The farmer's ample wagon and the little one-horse 
 vehicle bring in all w'ho reside at an inconvenient 
 walking distance ; that is to say, in our riding com- 
 munity, half a mile from the church. It is a pleas- 
 ing sight to those who love to note the happy pecu- 
 liarities of their own land, to see the farmer's daugh- 
 ters, blooming, intelligent, and w^ell bred, pouring out 
 of these homely coaches wath their nice w^hite gowns, 
 prunello shoes, Leghorn hats, fans, and parasols, 
 and the spruce young men with their plaited ruffles, 
 blue coats, and yellow^ buttons. The wliole commu- 
 nity meet as one religious family, to offer their devo- 
 tions at the common altar. If there is an outlaw 
 from the society — a luckless wight, whose vagrant 
 taste has never been subdued, he may be seen steal- 
 ing along the margin of some little brook, far away 
 U2
 
 234 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 from the condemning observation and troublesome 
 admonitions of his fellows. 
 
 Towards the close of the day, or (to borrow a 
 phrase descriptive of his feeling who first used it) 
 " when the Sabbath begins to abate,'' the children 
 cluster about the windows. Their eyes wander from 
 their catechisms to the western sky; and though it 
 seems to them as if the sun would never disappear, 
 his broad disk does slowly sink behind the mountain ; 
 and while his last ray still lingers on the eastern 
 summit, merry voices break forth, and the ground 
 resounds with bounding footsteps. The village belle 
 arrays herself for her twilight walk ; the boys gath- 
 er on " the green ;" the lads and girls throng to the 
 " singingrschool ;" while some coy maiden lingers 
 at home, awaiting her expected suiter; and all enter 
 upon the pleasures of the evening with as keen a 
 relish as if the day had been a preparatory penance. 
 
 We have passed over eight days, which glided 
 away without supplying any events to the historian 
 of our heroine's life, though even then the thread 
 was spinning that was to form the woof of her des- 
 tiny. 
 
 Intent on verifying the prediction she had made 
 to Esther, that Everell would soon declare himself 
 her lover, she promoted the intercourse of the par- 
 ties in every way she could without making her mo- 
 tive apparent. While she treated Everell with frank 
 sisterly affection, and was always easy and animated 
 in his society, which she enjoyed above all other 
 pleasures, she sedulously sought to bring Esther's
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 235 
 
 moral and mental graces forth to the light. In their 
 occasional walks she took good care that Everell 
 should be the companion of her friend, while she 
 permitted Sir Philip Gardiner to attend her. He 
 was a man of the world, practised in all the arts of 
 society ; and though he sometimes offended her by 
 the excess of his flattering gallantries, yet he often 
 deeply interested her with his lively descriptions of 
 countries and manners unknown to her. 
 
 It was just at twilight on Saturday evening when 
 the elder JSIr. Fletcher came into Madam Winthrop's 
 parlour, found his son sitting there alone, and inter- 
 rupted a very delightful meditation on the eloquence 
 of Hope Leslie, who had just been with him, des- 
 canting on the virtues of her friend Esther. The 
 charms of the fair speaker had, we believe, a far 
 larger share of his thoughts than the subject of her 
 harangue. 
 
 " We have a lecture extraordinary to-night," said 
 Mr. Fletcher ; " our rulers, some time since, issued 
 an order, limiting our regular religious meetings to 
 one during the week. Shall you go, my son ?" 
 
 " Sir ! go to the lecture ?" replied Everell, as it 
 just waking from a dream; and then added, for then 
 he caught a ghmpse of Hope through the door with 
 her hat and mantle, " oh, yes ; certainly, sir, I shall 
 go to the lecture." 
 
 He snatched his hat, and would have joined Miss 
 Leslie ; but she saw his intention, and turning to him 
 as she passed the threshold of the door, she said, 
 " You need not go with me, Everell 3 I have to call 
 for aunt Grafton, at Mrs. Cotton's."
 
 236 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " May I not call with you ?" 
 
 " No ; I had rather you would not," she said, de- 
 cidedly, and hurried away without any explanation 
 of her preference. 
 
 " What can have disturbed Hope ?" asked Mr. 
 Fletcher, for both he and his son had observed that 
 her cheek was flushed and her eye tearful. 
 
 " I cannot imagine," replied Everell -, " she left 
 me, not half an hour since, all smiles and gayety." 
 
 " It is but the April-temper of youth," said the fa- 
 ther. " Hope is of a feeling make : she often re- 
 minds me of the Delta lands, where the fruits spring 
 forth before the waters have retired. Smiles are 
 playing on her lips before the tear is dry on her 
 cheek. But this sensitiveness should be checked : 
 the dear child's feelings have too long been indul- 
 ged." 
 
 " And as long as they are all innocent, sir, why 
 should they not be indulged ?" 
 
 " Because, my son, she must be hardened for the 
 cross-accidents and unkind events, or, rather, I should 
 say, the wholesome chastisements of life. She can- 
 not — we can none of us — expect indulgence from the 
 events of life." Mr. Fletcher paused for a moment, 
 looked around, then shut the door and returned to 
 his son. " Everell," he said, " you have ever been 
 dutiful to me." 
 
 " And ever shall be, my dear father," replied Ev- 
 erell, with frank confidence, little thinking how soon 
 the virtue might become difficult. 
 
 " Trust not, my son, to thine own strength -, it may
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 237 
 
 soon be put to a test that will make thee feel it to be 
 but weakness. Everell, thou seest that Hope loves 
 thee even as she loved thee in thy childhood. Let 
 her affection remain of this temper, I charge thee, as 
 thou respectest thy father's and thine own honour. 
 And, Everell, it were well if you fixed your eye on — " 
 
 " Stop, sir ! stop, I beseech you, and tell me — not 
 because I have any thoughts — any intentions, I 
 mean — any formed purpose, I would say — but tell 
 me, I entreat you, why this prohibition ?" 
 
 Everell spoke with such earnestness and ingenu- 
 ousness that his father could not refuse to answer 
 him ', but his reasons seemed, even to himself, to lose 
 half their force as they emerged from their shroud of 
 mystery. He acknowledged, in the first place, what 
 his most cherished wishes had been in relation to 
 Hope and Everell. He then communicated the in- 
 timations that had been thrown out, that his views 
 for his son w^re mercenary. 
 
 Everell laughed at the idea. " No one," he said, 
 " can so well afford such an imputation as you, sir, 
 whose whole life has been a practical refutation of 
 it ; and, for my ow^n part, I am satisfied W'ith the 
 consciousness that I would not marry any woman 
 with a fortune whom I would not marry if the case 
 ^vere reversed, or even if we were both penniless." 
 
 " I believe this is not an empty boast, my son ; 
 but we have set ourselves up as a mark to the world, 
 and, as Brother Winthrop has said, and repeated to 
 me, we cannot be too sohcitous to avoid all appear- 
 ance of evil There are covetous souls, who, on the
 
 238 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 slightest ground, would suspect us of pursuing our 
 own worldly by-ends." 
 
 " And so, sir, to win the approbation, or, rather, 
 the good word of these covetous souls, we are to de- 
 grade ourselves to their level, and act as if we were 
 capable of their mean passions." 
 
 " Everell, my son, you speak presumptuously ; we 
 are capable of all evil ; but we will waive that ques- 
 tion at present. Our individual wishes must be sur- 
 rendered to the public good. We have laid the 
 foundation of an edifice, and our children must be 
 so coupled together as to secure its progress and sta- 
 bility when the present builders are laid low." 
 
 " And so, my dear father, a precious gem is to be 
 mortared in like a common brick, wherever may best 
 suit the purposes and views of the builders. You 
 are displeased, sir. Perhaps I spoke somewhat has- 
 tily. But, once for all, I entreat you not to dispose 
 of us as if we were mere machines : we owe you our 
 love and reverence." 
 
 " And obedience, Everell." 
 " Yes, sir, as far as can be manifested by not do- 
 ing what you command us not to do." 
 
 " Have I, then, strained parental authority so far, 
 that you think it necessary thus to qualify your 
 duty ?" 
 
 " No, indeed, my dear father ; and it is because 
 your authority has ever been too gentle to be felt, 
 that I wince at the galling of a new yoke. You will 
 admit that my submission has not been less perfect 
 for being voluntary. Trust me, then, for the future ^ 
 and I promise—"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 239 
 
 Everell was, perhaps, saved from rashly commit- 
 ting himself by the entrance of Madam Winthrop, 
 ■who inquired if the gentlemen were ready to attend 
 her to the lecture. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Everell," she said, " here is Esther 
 to show you the way, than whom there can be no 
 safer guide." 
 
 Miss Downing stood beside her aunt, but she 
 shrunk back at Everell's approach, hurt at what 
 seemed to her a solicitation for his attention. He 
 perceived her instinctive movement, but, without ap- 
 pearing to notice it, he offered his arm to Madam 
 Winthrop, saying, " As there is no skill in guiding 
 one quite capable of self- guidance, I will not inflict 
 myself on Miss Downing, if you will allow me the 
 honour of attending you." 
 
 Madam Winthrop submitted with the best grace 
 to this cross purpose. The elder Fletcher offered 
 his arm to Miss Downing, and endeavoured to draw 
 her into conversation ; but she was timid, downcast, 
 and reserved ; and mentally comparing her with 
 Hope Leslie, he felt how improbable it was that 
 Everell would ever prefer her. The old, even when 
 grave and rigid, are said to affect the^oung and gay ; 
 on the same principle, perhaps, that a dim eye de- 
 lights in bright colours. 
 
 " Is that Gorton's company ?" asked Everell, point- 
 ing towards several prisoners, who, in the custody of 
 a file of soldiers, appeared to be going towards the 
 sanctuary. 
 
 " Yes," replied Madam Winthrop j " the govern-
 
 240 HOPE LESllE. 
 
 or and our ruling elders have determined that, as 
 they are to be tried next week, they shall have the 
 benefit of all our public teaching in the mean time." 
 
 " I should fear they would deem this punishment 
 before trial," said Everell. 
 
 " They did reluct mightily at first ; but on bemg 
 promised that, if they had occasion to speak, after 
 sermon they should be permitted, provided they only 
 spoke the words of sobriety and truth, they consent- 
 ed to come forth." 
 
 This Gorton, whom Hubbard calls " a prodigious 
 minister of exorbitant novelties," had been brought, 
 with his adherents, from Rhode Island, by force of 
 arms, to be tried for certain civil and ecclesiastical 
 offences, for which, according to the most learned 
 antiquary of our New World (Mr. Savage), they 
 were not amenable to the magistracy of Massachu- 
 setts. 
 
 The prisoners were ushered into the church, and 
 placed before the ruling elders. The governor then 
 entered, unattended by his halberd-bearers (a cere- 
 mony dispensed with except on Sunday), and, fol- 
 lowed by his family, walked slowly to his pew, 
 where Miss Le^ie was already seated between Mrs. 
 Grafton and Sir Philip Gardiner. She rose, and 
 contrived to exchange her location for one next Miss 
 Downing. " Look, Esther," she said, in a whisper, 
 to her friend, " at that lad who stands in the corner 
 of the gallery, just beside the lamp." 
 
 " I see him ; but what of him ?" 
 
 " Why, just observe how^ he gazes at me : his eye
 
 HOPE LESLIE. S4l 
 
 is like a burning-glass — it really scorches me. I 
 wish the service were over. Do you think it will 
 be long ?" 
 
 '• It may be long, but I trust not tedious," replied 
 Esther, with a gravity which was the harshest rebuke 
 she could ever command. 
 
 " Oh, it will be both !" said Hope, in a despairing 
 tone ; " for there is Mr. Wheeler in the pulpit, and 
 he always talks of eternity till he forgets time." 
 
 " My dear Hope !" said Esther, in a voice of min- 
 gled surprise and reproof. 
 
 The service presently began, and Hope endeavour- 
 ed dutifully to assume a decorous demeanour, and 
 join Esther in singing the psalm ; but her mind was 
 soon abstracted, and her voice died away. 
 
 The preacher had not proceeded far in his dis- 
 course before all her patience was exhausted. Even 
 those who are the most strenuous advocates for the 
 passive duties of the sanctuary might have bestowed 
 their pity on our heroine, who had really serious 
 cause for her feverish impatience ; obliged to sit, 
 while a young man, accounted a " universal schol- 
 ar," seemed determined, like many unfledged preach- 
 ers, to tell all he knew in that one discourse, which 
 w^as then called a prophesying — an extempore effu- 
 sion. He was bent, not only on making " root and 
 branch work" of poor Gorton's heresies, but on eradi- 
 cating every tare from the spiritual field. To Hope 
 he appeared to maintain one even pace straight for- 
 ward, like the mortal in the fairy tale, sentenced to 
 an eternal walk over a boundless plain. 
 
 Vol. I.-~X
 
 242 HOPE LESLIfi. 
 
 " Do, Esther, look at the candles," she whispered ; 
 " don't you think it must be nine o'clock ?" 
 
 " Oh, hush ! no, not yet eight." 
 
 Hope sighed audibly, and once more resumed a 
 listeninof attitude. All human labours have their 
 end, and therefore had the preacher's. But, alas 
 for our heroine ! when he had finished, Gorton — 
 whose face for the last hour had expressed that he 
 felt much like a criminal condemned to be scourged 
 before he is hung — Gorton rose, and, smarting under 
 a sense of wrongs, repeated all the points of the 
 discourse, and made points where there were none ; 
 refuted and attacked, and proved (to his own satis- 
 faction) " that all ordinances, ministers, sacraments, 
 &c., were but men's invention — silver shrines of 
 Diana." 
 
 While this self-styled " professor of mysteries" 
 spoke, Hope was so much interested in his genuine 
 enthusiasm and mysticism (for he was the Sweden- 
 borg of his day) that she forgot her own secret 
 subject of anxiety; but when he had finished, and 
 half a dozen of the ruling elders rose at the same 
 moment to prove the weapons of orthodoxy upon 
 the arch heretic, she whispered to Esther, "I can 
 never bear this ; I must make an apology to Madam 
 Winthrop, and go home !" 
 
 " Stay," said Esther ; " do you not see Mr. Cotton 
 is getting up ?" 
 
 Mr. Cotton, the regular pastor, rose to remind his 
 brethren of the decree, " that private members should 
 be very sparing in their questions and observations
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 243 
 
 after public sermons," and to say that he should 
 postpone any farther discussion of the precious points 
 before them, as it was near nine o'clock, after which 
 it was not suitable for any Christian family to be un- 
 necessarily abroad. 
 
 Hope now, and many others, instinctively rose, in 
 anticipation of the dismissing benediction ; but Mr. 
 Cotton waved his hand for them to sit down, till he 
 could communicate to the congregation the decision 
 to which the ruling elders and himself had come on 
 the subject of the last Sabbath sermon. " He would 
 not repeat what he had before said upon that lust of 
 costly apparel, which was fast gaining ground, and 
 had already, as was well known, crept into godly 
 families. He was pleased that there were among 
 them gracious women, ready to turn at a rebuke, as 
 was manifested in many veils being left at home, 
 that were floating over the congregation like so many 
 butterflies' wings in the morning. Economy, he just- 
 ly observed, was, as well as simplicity, a Christian 
 grace; and, therefore, the rulers had determined, 
 that those persons who had run into the excess of 
 immoderate veils and sleeves, embroidered caps, and 
 gold and silver lace, should be permitted to wear 
 them out, but new ones should be forfeited." 
 
 This sumptuary regulation announced, the meeting 
 was dismissed. 
 
 Madam Winthrop whispered to Everell that she 
 was going, with his father, to look in upon a sick 
 neighbour, and would thank him to see her niece 
 home. Everell stole a glance at Hope, and dutiful- 
 ly offered his arm to Miss Downing.
 
 244 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope, intent only on one object, was hurrying out 
 of the pew, intending, in the jostling of the crowd, to 
 escape alone ; but she was arrested by Madam Win- 
 throp's saying, *' Miss Leshe, Sir Philip offers you 
 his arm ;" and, at the same moment, her aunt stoop- 
 ed forward to beg her to wait a moment, till she 
 could send a message to Deacon Knowles's wife, that 
 she might wear her new gown with the Turkish 
 sleeves the next day. 
 
 " Oh, martyrdom !" thought Hope, with, indeed, 
 little of the spirit of a martyr. She dared not speak 
 aloud, but she continued to whisper to Mrs. Graf- 
 ton, " For pity's sake, do leave Mrs. Knowles to take 
 care of herself 3 I am tired to death with staying 
 here." 
 
 " No wonder," replied her aunt, in the same low 
 tone J " it is enough to tire Job himself; but just 
 have a minute's patience, deary ; it is but doing as 
 a body would be done by, to let Mistress Knowles 
 know she may come out in her new gown to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " Well, just as you please, ma'am ; but I will go 
 along with Sir Philip, and you can follow with Mr. 
 Cradock. Mr. Cradock, you will wait for Mrs. 
 Grafton?" 
 
 " Surely, surely," replied the good man, eagerly ; 
 " there is nothing you could ask me, Miss Hope, as 
 you well know — be it ever so disagreeable — that I 
 would not do." 
 
 " Thank you for nothing, Mr. Cradock," said the 
 testy dame, with a toss of her head 3 " you are over
 
 HOPE LESLIE* 245 
 
 civil, I think, to-night. It is very well, Miss Hope, 
 it is very well ; you may go : you know Cradock, at 
 best, is purblind at night ; but it is very well ; you 
 can go ; I can get home alone. It is very peculiar 
 of you, Mr. Cradock." 
 
 Poor Cradock saw he had offended, but how he 
 knew not ; and he looked imploringly to Hope to 
 extricate him; but she was too anxious about her 
 own affairs to lend her usual benevolent care to his 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " My dear aunt," said she, " I will not go without 
 you, if you prefer to go with me ; only do let us go." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton now acquiesced, for in her flurry she 
 had lost sight of the messenger whom she intended 
 to intrust with the important errand. Sir Philip ar- 
 ranged her hood and cloak with a grace that she af- 
 terward said " was so like her dear deceased," and 
 in a few moments the party was in the street, and 
 really moving homeward. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton prided herself on a slow, measured 
 step, which she fancied was the true gait of dignity. 
 Hope, on the contrary, always moved as the spirit 
 moved her ; and now she felt an irresistible impulse 
 to hurry forward. 
 
 " My dear," said her aunt, " how can you fly so ? 
 I am sure, if they in England were to see you walk, 
 they would think you had been brought up here to 
 chase the deer in the woods." 
 
 Hope dared not confess her anxiety to get for- 
 ward, and she could no longer check it. 
 
 " It is very undignified, and very unladylike, and 
 X2
 
 246 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 very unbecoming, Hope ; and I must say it is unto- 
 ward and unfroward of you to hurry me along so. 
 Don't you think it is very pecuUar of Hope, Sir 
 PhiHp ?" 
 
 The knight suspected that Miss Leshe's haste 
 "was merely impatience of his society, and he could 
 scarcely curb his chagrin while he said that " the 
 young lady undoubtedly moved with uncommon ce- 
 lerity ; indeed, he had before suspected she had in- 
 visible wings." 
 
 " Thank you for your hint, Sir Philip," exclaimed 
 Hope. " It is a night," she continued, looking up 
 at the bright moon, " to make one long to soar ; so 
 I will just spread my wings, and leave you to crawl 
 on the earth." She withdrew her arm from Sir 
 Philip's, and, tripping on before them, she soon 
 turned a corner and was out of sight. 
 
 We must leave the knight biting his lips with 
 vexation, and feeling much like a merchant obliged 
 to pay a heavy duty on a lost article. However, to 
 do him justice, he did not make an entire loss of it, 
 but so adroitly improved the opportunity to win the 
 aunt's favour, that she afterward said to Hope, that, 
 if she must see her wedded to a Puritan, she trusted 
 it would be Sir Philip, for he had nothing of the 
 Puritan but the outside. 
 
 Hope had not proceeded far when she heard a 
 quick step behind her, and, looking back, she saw 
 the young man whose gaze had disturbed her at 
 the lecture. She had an indefinite womanly feeling 
 of fear ; but a second thought told her she had best
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 247 
 
 conceal it, and she slackened her pace. Her pur- 
 suer approached till he was parallel to her, and 
 slackened his also. He looked at her without speak- 
 ing ; and, as Hope glanced her eye at him, she was 
 struck with an expression of wretchedness and pas- 
 sion that seemed unnatural on a countenance so 
 young and beautiful. " Anything is better than this 
 strange silence," thought Hope ; so she stopped, 
 looked the stranger full in the face, and said, inqui- 
 ringly, " You have, perhaps, lost your way V 
 
 " Lost my way 1" replied the youth, in a half ar- 
 ticulate voice : " yes, lady, I have lost my way." 
 
 The melancholy tone and mysterious look of the 
 stranger led Hope to suspect that he meant to con- 
 vey more than the natural import of his words ; but, 
 without seeming to understand more, she said, " I 
 perceive, by your foreign accent, that you are a 
 stranger here. If you will tell me where you wish 
 to go, I will direct you." 
 
 " And who will guide you, lady 1" responded the 
 stranger, in a thrilling tone. *' The lost may warn, 
 but cannot guide." 
 
 "I need no guidance," said Hope, hastily, still 
 persisting in understanding him literally : " I am fa- 
 miliar with the way ; and, if I cannot be of service 
 to you, must bid you good-night." 
 
 " Stop one moment !" exclaimed the stranger, lay- 
 ing his hand on Hope's arm with an imploring look : 
 " you look so good — so kind — )^ou may be of ser- 
 vice to me;" and then bursting into a passionate 
 flood of tears, he added, " Oh ! no, no, there is no 
 help for me I"
 
 248 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope now lost all thought for herself in concern 
 for the unhappy being before her. " "Who or what 
 are you V she asked. 
 
 " I ! what am 1 1" he replied, in a bitter tone ; 
 " Sir Philip Gardiner's slave, or servant, or page, or — 
 whatever he is pleased to call me. Nay, lady, look 
 not so piteously on me ! I love my master — at least 
 I did love him ; but I think innocence is the breath 
 of love ! Heaven's mercy, lady ! you will make me 
 weep again if you look at me thus." 
 
 "Nay, do not weep, but tell me," said Hope, 
 " what I can do for you ; I cannot remain here lon- 
 ger." 
 
 " Oh ! you can do nothing for me — no one can do 
 anything for me. But, lady — take care for thyself." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" demanded Hope, in a tone 
 of mingled alarm and impatience ; " do you mean 
 anything ?" 
 
 The boy looked apprehensively about him, and, 
 approaching his lips close to Hope's ear, he said in 
 a whisper, " Promise me you will not love my mas- 
 ter. Do not believe him, though he pledge the 
 w^ord of a true knight always to love you ; though 
 he swear it on the holy crucifix, do not believe it !" 
 
 Hope now began to think that the youth's senses 
 were impaired j and, more impatient than ever to 
 escape from him, she said, " Oh, I can promise all 
 that, and as much more in the same way as you will 
 ask of me. But leave me now, and come to me 
 again when you want a much more difficult ser-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 249 
 
 " I never shall want anything else, lady," he re^ 
 plied, shaking his head mournfully ; " I want nothing 
 else but that you would pity me ! You may — -for 
 angels pity, and I am sure you look hke one. Pity 
 me ! never speak of me, and forget me." He drop- 
 ped on his knee, pressed her hand to his hps, rose 
 to his feet, and left her so hastily that she was scarce^ 
 ly conscious of his departure till he was beyond her 
 sight. 
 
 Whatever matter for future reflection this inter- 
 view might have afforded her, Hope had now no 
 time to dwell on it ; and she hastened forward, and 
 surmounting a fence at the southeastern extremity of 
 the burial-ground, entered the enclosure now the 
 churchyard of the stone chapel. The moon was high 
 in the heavens ; masses of black clouds were driven 
 by a spring gale over her bright disk, producing 
 startling changes, from light to darkness, and from 
 darkness to that gleamy, indefinite, illusive bright- 
 ness, which gives to moonlight its dominion over the 
 imagination. 
 
 At another time Hope Leslie would have shrunk 
 from going alone, so late at night, to this region of 
 silence and sad thoughts, and her fancy might have 
 imbodied the shadows that flitted over the little 
 mounds of earth ; but she was now so engrossed by 
 one absorbing, anxious expectation, that she scarce- 
 ly thought of the place where it was to be attained, 
 and she pressed on as if she were passing over com- 
 mon clods. Once, indeed, she paused, as the moon 
 shot forth a bright ray, stooped down before a little
 
 250 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 hillock, pressed her brow to the green turf, and then 
 raising her eyes to Heaven, and clasping her hands, 
 she exclaimed, " 0, my mother ! if ever thy pres- 
 ence is permitted to me, be with me now !" After 
 this solemn adjuration she again rose to her feet, and 
 looked anxiously before her for some expected ob- 
 ject. " But I cannot know," she said, " till I have 
 passed the thicket of evergreens ; that was the ap- 
 pointed spot." 
 
 She passed the thicket, and at that moment the 
 intensity of her feelings spread a mist before her 
 eyes. She faltered, and leaned on one of the grave- 
 stones for support : and there we must leave her for 
 the present, to the secrecy she sought.
 
 Hope Leslie. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ** There's nothing I have done yet o' my conscience, 
 Deserves a corner : would all other women 
 Could speak this with as free a soul as I do." 
 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 While Hope Leslie was deeply engaged in the 
 object of her secret expedition, Governor Winthrop's 
 household was thrown into alarm at her absence. 
 
 Jennet was the only member of the family who 
 did not admit that there was real cause of uneasi- 
 ness. " Miss Hope," she said, " was always like a 
 crazed body of moonlight nights; there was never 
 any keeping her within the four walls of a house." 
 
 But a moonlight night it soon ceased to be. The 
 clouds that had been scudding over the heavens 
 gathered in dark and terrific masses. A spring storm 
 ensued : a storm to which winter and summer con- 
 tribute all their elemental power — rain, lightning, 
 wind, and hail. 
 
 Governor Winthrop naturally concluded (for all 
 persons not deeply interested are apt to be rational) 
 that Miss Leslie had taken refuge under some safe 
 covert, and he summoned his family to their evening 
 devotions. Both the Fletchers excused themselves, 
 and braved the storm in quest of their lost treasure ; 
 and even old Cradock, in spite of Mrs. Grafton's re- 
 peated suggestions that he was a very useless person
 
 255^ HOPE LESLllJ. 
 
 for such an enterprise, sallied forth ; but all returned 
 in the space of an hour to bring their various reports 
 of fruitless inquiry and search. Everell remained 
 but long enough to learn that there were no tidings 
 of Hope, and was again rushing out of the house, 
 when he met the object of his apprehensions at the 
 hall door. "Thank Heaven !" he exclaimed, on 
 seeing her, " you are safe. Where have you been '? 
 we were all in the most distressful alarm about you." 
 Hope had, by this time, advanced far enough into 
 the entry for Everell to perceive, by the light of the 
 lantern, that she was muffled in Sir Philip Gardi- 
 ner's cloak. His face had kindled with joy at her 
 appearance ; all light now vanished from it, and he 
 stood eyeing Hope with glances that spoke, though 
 his lips refused again to move ; while she, without 
 observing or suspecting his emotion, did not reply to 
 him, and was only intent on disengaging herself from 
 the cloak. " Do help me, Everell," she said, impa- 
 tiently I and he endeavoured to untie the string that 
 fastened it; but, in his agitation, instead of untying, 
 he doubled the knot. 
 
 " Oh, worse and worse !" she exclaimed ; and, 
 without any farther ceremony, she broke the string, 
 and running back to the door, gave the cloak to Sir 
 Philip, who stood awaiting it, till then unperceived 
 by Everell, in the shadows of the portico. 
 
 Everell again looked at Miss Leslie, in the natu- 
 ral expectation of some explanation ; but she appear- 
 ed only concerned to escape to her apartment with- 
 out any inquiries from the family. Her face was
 
 FIOPE LESLIE. 253 
 
 extremely pale; and her voice, still affected by recent 
 agitation, trembled as she said to Everell, " Be kind 
 enough to tell your father and all of them that I 
 have come in drenched with the rain, and have gone 
 to my own room ; that I am wearied, and shall throw 
 off my wet garments, and get to bed as quick as pos- 
 sible ;" and then adding a " good-night, Everell," 
 and without aw^aiting any answer, she was spring- 
 ing up the stairs, when the parlour door was thrown 
 open, and half a dozen voices exclaimed, in the same 
 breath, " Oh, Hope !" " Hope Leslie !" " Miss Hope 
 Leslie ! is it you 1" 
 
 " Come back, my child, and tell me where you 
 have been," said Mr. Fletcher. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Leslie," said Governor Winthrop, but 
 in a tone of kindness rather than authority, " render 
 an account of thyself to thy rulers." 
 
 "Yes, come along, Hope," said Mrs. Grafton, 
 " and make due apologies to Madam Winthrop. A 
 pretty hubbub you have put her house in, to be sure ; 
 though I make no doubt you can show good reason 
 for it, and also for leaving Sir Philip and me in that 
 rantipole way, which I must say was peculiar." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," said Hope to Esther, w^ho 
 had joined her, " do go in and make an apology for 
 me. Say I am w^et and tired — say anything you 
 please, I care not what — will you 1 that's a good 
 girl." 
 
 "No, Hope, come in yourself; aunt Winthrop 
 looked a little displeased ; you had best come j I 
 know she will expect it." 
 
 Vol. L— Y
 
 254 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Thus beset, Hope dared not any longer hesitate, 
 and with that feeUng, half resolution and half impa- 
 tience to have a disagreeable thing over, which often 
 impelled her, she descended the stairs as hastily as 
 she had ascended them, and was in the parlour con- 
 fronting all the inquirers before she had devised any 
 mode of relieving herself from the disagreeable pre- 
 dicament of not being able to satisfy their curiosity. 
 
 "Verily, verily," exclaimed Cradock, who was 
 the only one of the group, not even excepting Ever- 
 ell, whose sympathy mastered his curiosity, " verily, 
 the maiden hath been in peril ; she is as white as a 
 snow-wreath, and as wet as a drowned kitten." 
 
 "Yes, Master Cradock, quite as wet," replied 
 Hope, rallying her spirits, " and with almost as little 
 discretion left, or I should not have entered the par- 
 lour in this dripping condition. Madam Winthrop, 
 I beg you wall have the goodness to pardon me for 
 the trouble I have occasioned." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, as I doubt not you will make 
 it plain to us that you had sufficient reason for what 
 appears so extraordinary as a young woman wan- 
 dering off by herself after nine o'clock on Saturday 
 night." 
 
 Our heroine had never had the slightest experi- 
 ence in the nice art that contrives to give such a con- 
 venient indistinctness to the boundary line between 
 truth and falsehood. After a moment's reflection, 
 her course seemed plain to her. To divulge the real 
 motive of her untimely walk was impossible ; to in- 
 vent a false excuse, to her, equally impossible. She
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 255 
 
 turned to Governor Winthrop, and said with a smile 
 that Everell, at least, thought might have softened 
 the elder Brutus, " I surrender myself to the laws of 
 the land, having no hope but from the mercy of my 
 kind ruler. I have offended, I know ; but I should 
 commit a worse offence — an offence against my own 
 conscience and heart, if I explained the cause of my 
 absence." 
 
 Governor Winthrop was not accustomed to have 
 his inquisitorial rights resisted by those of his own 
 household, and he was certainly more struck than 
 pleased by Hope's moral courage. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton half muttered, half spoke, what she 
 meant to be an apology for her favourite. " It was 
 not everybody," she said, " that thought as the gov- 
 ernor did about Saturday night." 
 
 "True, true," said Cradock, eagerly, "it is a 
 doubtful point with divines and gifted men." 
 
 " Master Cradock," said the governor, " thou art 
 too apt to measure thy orthodoxy by thy charity. 
 Saturday night is allowed to be, and manifestly is, 
 holy time ; and therefore to be applied, exclusively, 
 to acts of mercy and devotion." Then, turning to 
 the impatient culprit, he added, " I am bound to say 
 to thee, Hope Leslie, that thou dost take liberties un- 
 suitable to thy youth, and in violation of that defer- 
 ence due to the rule and observances of my house- 
 hold, and discreditable to him who hath been in- 
 trusted with thy nurture and admonition." 
 
 Hope received the first part of this reproof with 
 her eyes riveted to the floor, and with a passiveness
 
 256 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 that had the semblance of penitence ; but at the im- 
 plied reproach of her guardian, for whom she had 
 an affection that had the purity of filial and the en- 
 thusiasm of voluntary love, she raised her eyes ; their 
 mild lustre, for an instant, gave place to a flash of 
 indignation direct from her heart. Her glance met 
 Everell's j he stood in a recess of the window, lean- 
 ing his head against the casement, looking intently 
 on her. " He too suspects me of evil," she thought ; 
 and she could scarcely command her voice to say, 
 as she turned and put her hand in the elder Fletch- 
 er's, " I have done nothing to dishonour you. You 
 believe me — do you not ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear child, I must believe you, for 
 you never deceived me : but be not so impatient of 
 reproof." 
 
 " I am not impatient for myself," she said ; " I care 
 not how sternly, how harshly I am judged ; but I 
 see not why my fault, even if I had committed one, 
 should cast a shadow upon you." 
 
 Madam Winthrop now interposed her good offices 
 to calm the troubled waters. " There is no shadow 
 anywhere. Miss Leslie, if there is sunshine in the 
 conscience ; and I can answer for the governor, that 
 he will overlook the disturbance of this evening, 
 provided you are discreet in future. But w^e are 
 WTong to keep you so long in your wet garments. 
 Robin," she said, turning to a servant, " light a little 
 fire in the young ladies' room, and tell Jennet to 
 warm Miss Leslie's bed — let her strew a little sugar 
 in the pan — an excellent thing, Mrs. Grafton, to take 
 soreness out of the bones."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 257 
 
 Madam Winthrop was solicitous to remove the 
 impression from her guests that Miss LesUe was 
 treated with undue strictness. Hope thanked her 
 for her kindness ; and protesting that she had no 
 need of fire or warming-pan, she hastily bade good- 
 night, and retired to her own apartment. 
 
 Miss Downing: lingered a moment after her, and 
 ventured to say, in a low, timid tone, " that she trust- 
 ed her uncle Winthrop would harbour no displeasure 
 against her friend \ she was sure that she had been 
 on some errand of kindness ; for, though she might 
 sometimes indulge in a blamable freedom of speech, 
 she had ever observed her to be strict in all duties 
 and offices of mercy." 
 
 " You are right — right — marvellously right. Miss 
 Downing," cried Cradock, exultingly rubbing his 
 hands; and then added, in a lower tone, " a dis- 
 cerning young woman. Miss Esther." 
 
 " Humph !" said Mrs. Grafton, " I don't see any- 
 thing so marvellously right in what Miss Esther 
 says ; it's what everybody knows who knows Hope, 
 that she never did a wrong thing." 
 
 Governor Winthrop suppressed a smile, and said 
 to the good lady, " We should take heed, my wor- 
 thy friend, not to lay too much stress on doing or 
 not doing ; not to rest unduly on duties and per- 
 formances, for they be unsound ground." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton might have thought, if she had 
 enough such ground to stand on, it were terra firma 
 to her ; but, for once, she had the discretion of si- 
 lence. 
 
 Y 2
 
 258 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Neither Everellnor his father spoke, probably be- 
 cause they felt more than all the rest ; and Madam 
 Winthrop, feeling the awkwardness of the scene, 
 mentioned the hour, and proposed a general disper- 
 sion. 
 
 Everell followed Miss Downing to the staircase. 
 " One word. Miss Downing," he said. Esther turned 
 her face towards him — her pale face, for that instant 
 illuminated. " Did you," he asked, " in your apol- 
 ogy for your friend, speak from knowledge or from 
 generous faith ?" 
 
 " From faith," she replied, " but not generous 
 faith, for it was founded on experience." 
 
 Everell turned, disappointed, away. " Faith," he 
 thought, " there might be without sight, but faith 
 against sight, never." " Trifles light as air" are 
 proverbially momentous matters to lovers. Everell 
 had too noble a mind to indulge in that fretful jeal- 
 ousy ^vhich is far more the result of an egregious 
 self-love than love of another. But he had cherish- 
 ed for Hope a consecrating sentiment ; he had in- 
 vested her with a sacredness which the most refined, 
 the purest, and most elevated love throws around the 
 object of its devotion. 
 
 " On magic ground that castle stoode, 
 And fenced with many a spelle." 
 
 "Were these " spelles" to be dissolved by the light of 
 truth ? " Why should one," thought Everell, " who 
 seemed so pure that she might dwell in light — so 
 artless, confiding, and fearless — why should she per- 
 mit herself to be obscured by mystery 1 If her
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 259 
 
 meeting with Sir Philip Gardiner was accidental, why 
 not say so ? But what right have I to scan her con- 
 duct — what right to expect an explanation 1 It is 
 evident she feels nothing more for me than the fa- 
 miliar alTection of her childhood. How she talked 
 to me this evening of Esther Downing ! * If she had 
 a brother, she would select her friend from all the 
 world for his wife' — ' Esther was not precise, she 
 was only discreet' — ' she w^as not formal, but timid.' 
 Perhaps she sees I love her, and thus delicately 
 tries to give a different bent to my affections; but 
 that is impossible; every hope, every purpose, has 
 been concentrated in her. My affections may be 
 blighted, but they cannot be transferred. Perhaps 
 it is true, as some satirists say, that a woman's heart 
 is wayward, fantastic, and capricious. This vagrant 
 knight has scarcely turned his eyes from Hope since 
 he first saw her, and I know he has addressed the 
 most presumptuous flattery to her. Perhaps she fa- 
 vours his pretensions. I shrink even from his gazing 
 upon her, as if there were something sullying in the 
 glance of his eye ; and yet she violates the customs 
 of the country, she braves severe displeasure, to walk 
 alone with him ; with him she is insensible to a gath- 
 ering storm. He is incapable of loving her ; he is 
 intoxicated with her beauty; he seeks her fortune. 
 Her fortune ! I had forgotten that my father made 
 that a bar between us. Fortune ! I never thought 
 of anything so mean as wealth in connexion with 
 her. I would as soon barter my soul as seek any 
 woman for fortune ; and Hope Leslie ! oh, I should
 
 260 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 as soon think of the dowry of a celestial spirit, as of 
 your being enriched by the trappings of fortune." 
 These disjointt ' thoughts, and many others that 
 .uld natura, -ip in the mind of a young 
 
 lover, indicated the ardour, the enthusiasm, the dis- 
 interestedness^ of Everell's passion, and the restless 
 and fearful state into which he had been plunged by 
 the events of the evening. 
 
 o 
 
 While he was pursuing this train of fancies, m 
 which some sweetness mingled with the bitter, Es- 
 ther had followed Hope to her apartment, and, hav- 
 ing shut the door, turned on her friend a look of 
 speaking inquiry and expectation, to which Hope 
 did not respond, but continued, in a hurried manner, 
 to disrobe herself, throwing her drenched shawl on 
 one side, and her w^et dress on the other. 
 
 Esther tor^^ a silver whistle from the toilet, and 
 was opening the door to summon Jennet with its 
 shrill call, when Hope, observing her intention, cried 
 out, " If you love me, Esther, don't call Jennet to- 
 night ; I wish, at least, to be spared her croaking." 
 
 " As you please," replied Esther, quietly reclosing 
 the door ; " I thought Jennet had best come and 
 take care of your apparel, as, if your mind was not 
 otherwise occupied, you w^ould not choose to leave 
 it in such disorder." While Esther spoke she stood 
 by the toilet, smoothing her kerchief and restoring it 
 to the laundress' folds. 
 
 " Yes," said Hope, " I prefer any disorder to the 
 din of Jennet's tongue. I cannot, Esther— I cannot 
 always be precise."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 261 
 
 " Precision, I know, is not interesting,'^ said Esther, 
 with a slight tremulousness of voire ; " but if you 
 had a Uttle more of it, Hope, i^ 'd n'e yourseK 
 and your friends a vast deal ..^. 
 
 " Now do not you reproach me, Esther ! that is 
 the drop too much !" said Hope, turning her face to 
 the pillow to hide the tears that gushed from her 
 eyes : " I know I am vexed and cross ; but I did not 
 mean that you were too precise — I do not know 
 what I meant. I feel oppressed j and I want sym- 
 pathy, and not reproof." 
 
 " Unburden your heart, then, to me," said Esther, 
 kneeling by the bedside, and throwing her arm over 
 Hope : '' most gladly w^ould I pay back the debt of 
 sympathy I owe you." 
 
 " And never, dear Esther, did a poor creditor re- 
 ceive a debt more joyfully than I shouL'Hhis. But 
 others are concerned in my secret : a sacred promise 
 requires me to preserve it inviolate. The governor, 
 and your aunt, and all of them might have known — 
 and most of all, Everell — " she continued, raising 
 herself on her elbow — " they might have known that 
 I should not have been roaming about such a pitiless 
 night as this without good reason ; and Everell, I 
 am sure, knows that I despise the silliness of making 
 a secret out of nothing. I don't care so much for 
 the rest ; but it was very, very unkind of Everell I 
 I am sure my heart has been always open as the 
 day to him." 
 
 Perhaps Miss Downing was not quite pleased with 
 Hope's discriminating between the censure of Ever-
 
 262 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ell and the rest of the family ; for she said, with 
 more even than her ordinary gravity, " There is but 
 one thing, Hope, that ought to make you independ- 
 ent of the opinion of any of your friends." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 " The acquittal of your conscience." 
 
 " My conscience ! Oh, my dear Esther, no moth- 
 er Lois nor grandmother Eunice ever had a more 
 quiet conscience than I have at this moment ; and 
 I really wish that my tutors, governors — good friends 
 all — would not think it necessary to keep quite so 
 strict a guard over me." 
 
 " Hope Leslie," said Esther, " you do allow your- 
 self too much liberty of thought and word : you cer- 
 tainly know that we owe implicit deference to our 
 elders and superiors ; we ought to be guided by 
 their advice, and governed by their authority." 
 
 "Esther, you are a born preacher," exclaimed 
 Hope, w^ith a sort of half sigh, half groan of impa- 
 tience. " Nay, my dear friend, don't look so hor- 
 ridly solemn : I am sure, if I have wounded, your 
 feelings, I deserve to be preached to all the rest of 
 my life. But, really, I do not entirely agree with you 
 about advice and authority. As to advice, it needs 
 to be very carefully administered to do any good, 
 else it's like an injudicious patch, which, you know, 
 only makes the rent worse ; and as to authority, I 
 would not be a machine to be moved at the pleasure 
 of anybody that happened to be a little older than 
 myself. I am perfectly willing to submit to Mr, 
 Fletcher, for he never — " and she smiled at her
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 263 
 
 own sophistry — "he never requires submission. 
 Now, Esther, don't look at me so, as if I was httle 
 better than one of the wicked. Come, kiss me — 
 good-night; and when you say your prayers, Es- 
 ther, remember me, for I need them more than you 
 think." 
 
 This last request was made in a plaintive tone, 
 and with unaffected seriousness, and Esther turned 
 away to perform the duty, with a deep feeling of its 
 necessity ; for Hope, conscious of her integrity, had 
 perhaps been too impatient of rebuke ; and if, to a 
 less strict judge than Esther, she seems to have be- 
 trayed a little of the spoiled child, to her she ap- 
 peared to be very far from that gracious state where- 
 in every word is weighed before it is uttered, and 
 every action measured before it is performed. 
 
 END OF VOL. h
 
 HOPE LESLIE: 
 
 EARLY TIMES 
 
 THE MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE LINWOODS," " POOR RICH MAN," " LIVE AND LET 
 LIVE," " REDWOOD," &c. 
 
 Here stood tlie Indian chieftain, rejoicing- in his glory ! 
 How deep the shade of sadness that rests upon his story : 
 For the white man came with power — like brethren they met — 
 But the Indian fires wont out, and the Indian sun has set I 
 
 And the chieftain has departed — gone is his hunting-ground, 
 
 And the twanging of the bowstrin ^- is a forgotten sound : 
 
 Where dwelleth yesterday ? and where is Echo's cell] 
 
 Where has the rainbow vanished 1 — there does the Indian dwell. — E. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-ST. 
 
 1842.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by 
 
 Harper & Brothers, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Those well scene natives in grave Nature's bests, 
 All close designs conceal in their deep brests," 
 
 MORRELL. 
 
 It would be highly improper any longer to keep 
 our readers in ignorance of the cause of our heroine's 
 apparent aberration from the line of strict propriety. 
 After her conversation with Everell, in which we 
 must infer, from its effect on his mind, that she man- 
 ifested less art than zeal in her friend's cause, she 
 was retiring to her own apartment, when, on passing 
 through the hall, she saw an Indian woman standing 
 there, requesting the servant who had admitted her 
 " to ask the young ladies of the house if they would 
 look at some rare moccasins." 
 
 Miss Leslie was arrested by the uncommon sweet- 
 ness of the stranger's voice ; and fixing her eye on 
 her, she was struck with the singular dignity and 
 grace of her demeanour — a certain air indicating an 
 " inborn royalty of soul," that even the ugly envelope 
 of a blanket did not conceal." 
 
 The stranger seemed equally interested in Miss 
 Leslie's appearance ; and, fixing her eye intently on 
 her, " Pray try my moccasins, lady," she said, ear- 
 nestly.
 
 4 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; I should of all things like to buy 
 a pair of you," said Hope ; and, advancing, she was 
 taking them from her shoulder, over which they were 
 slung, when she, ascertaining by a quick glance that 
 the servant had disappeared, gently repressed Miss 
 Leslie's hand, saying at the same time, " Tell me thy 
 name, lady." 
 
 " My name ! Hope Leslie. But who art thou 1" 
 Hope asked in return, in a voice rendered almost in- 
 articulate by the thought that flashed into her mind. 
 
 The stranger cast down her eyes, and for half an in- 
 stant hesitated; then looking apprehensively around, 
 she said, in low, distinct accents, " Hope Leslie, I 
 am Magawisca." 
 
 " Magawisca !" echoed Hope. " Oh, Everell !" 
 and she sprang towards the parlour door to summon 
 Everell. 
 
 " Silence ! stay," cried Magawisca, with a vehe- 
 ment gesture, and at the same time turning to escape 
 should Hope prosecute her intention. 
 
 Hope perceived this, and again approached her. 
 " It cannot, then, be Magawisca," she said ; and she 
 trembled as she spoke with doubts, hopes, and fears. 
 
 Magawisca mio;ht have at once identified herself 
 by opening her blanket and disclosing her person ; 
 but that she did not, no one will wonder who knows 
 that a savage feels more even than ordinary sensibihty 
 at personal deformity. She took from her bosom a 
 necklace of hair and gold entwined together. " Dost 
 thou know this 1" she asked. " Is it not like that thou 
 wearest ?"
 
 HOrE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope grasped it, pressed it to her lips, and an- 
 swered by exclaiming passionately, " My sister ! my 
 sister !" 
 
 " Yes, it is a token from thy sister. Listen to me, 
 Hope Leslie: my time is brief; I may not stay here 
 another moment ; but come to me this evening at 
 nine o'clock, at the burial-place, a little beyond the 
 clump of pines, and I will give thee tidings of thy 
 sister : keep what I say in thine own bosom ; tell 
 no one thou hast seen me ; come alone, and fear not." 
 
 " Oh, I have no fear," exclaimed Hope, vehement- 
 ly ; " but tell me—tell me !" 
 
 Magawisca put her finger on her lips in token of 
 silence, for at this instant the door was again open- 
 ed, not by the servant who had before appeared, 
 but by Jennet. Magawisca instantly recognised 
 her, and turned as if in the act of departing. 
 
 Time had, indeed, wrought little change on Jen- 
 net, save imparting a shriller squeak to her doleful 
 voice, and a keener edge to her sharp features. 
 " Madam Winthrop," she said, " is engaged now, 
 but says you may call some other time wath your 
 moccasins ; and I would advise you to let it be any 
 other than the fag-end of a Saturday — a wrong sea- 
 son for temporalities." 
 
 While Jennet was uttering this superfluous coun- 
 sel, Hope sprang off the steps after Magawisca, anx- 
 ious for some farther light on her dawning expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 " Stay, oh stay," she said, " one moment, and let 
 me try your moccasins." 
 
 A 2
 
 6 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 At the same instant Mrs. Grafton appeared from 
 the back parlour, evidently in a great flurry. " Here, 
 you Indian woman," she screamed, " let me see your 
 moccasins." 
 
 Thus beset, Magawisca was constrained to retrace 
 her steps, and confront the danger of discovery. 
 She drew her blanket closer over her head and face, 
 and reascending the steps, threw her moccasins on 
 the floor, and cautiously averted her face from the 
 light. It was too evident to her that Jennet had 
 some glimmering recollections ; for, while she affect- 
 ed to busy herself with the moccasins, she turned her 
 inquisitorial gray eyes towards her with a look of 
 sharp scrutiny. Once Magawisca, with a movement 
 of involuntary disdain, returned her glance. Jennet 
 dropped the moccasins as suddenly as if she had re- 
 ceived a blow, hemmed as if she were choking, and 
 put her hand on the knob of the parlour door. 
 
 " Oh," thought Magawisca, " I am lost !" But 
 Jennet, confused by her misty recollections, relin- 
 quished her purpose, whatever it was, and returned 
 to the examination of the moccasins. In the mean 
 while, Hope stood behind her aunt and Jennet, her 
 hands clasped, and her beautiful eyes bent on Mag- 
 awisca with a supplicating inquiry. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton, as usual, was intent on her traffic. 
 "It was odd enough of Madam Winthrop," she 
 said, " not to let me know these moccasins were here ; 
 she knew I wanted them — at least she must know 
 I might want them ; and if I don't want them, that's 
 nothing to the purpose. I like to look at everything
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 7 
 
 that's going. It is a diversion to the mind. A neat 
 article," she continued ; " I should like you to have 
 a pair, Hope ; Sir Philip said, yesterday, they gave 
 a trig look to a pretty foot and ankle. How much 
 does she ask for them ?' 
 
 " I do not know," replied Hope. 
 
 " Do not know ! that's peculiar of you, Hope 
 Leslie ; you never inquire the price of anything. I 
 dare say Tawney expects enough for them to buy 
 all the glass beads in Boston. Hey, Tawney ?" 
 
 Mrs. Grafton now, for the first time, turned from 
 the articles to their possessor : she was struck with 
 an air of graceful haughtiness in her demeanour, 
 strongly contrasting with the submissive, dejected 
 deportment of the natives whom she was in the hab- 
 it of seeing ; and dropping the moccasins and turning 
 to Hope, she whispered, " Best buy a pair, dearie — 
 by all means buy a pair — pay her anything she asks 
 — best keep peace with them : ' never affront dogs 
 nor Indians.' " 
 
 Hope wanted no urging; but, anxious to get rid 
 of the witnesses that embarrassed her, and quick of 
 invention, she directed Jennet to go for her purse, 
 *' which she would find in a certain basket, or drawer, 
 or somewhere else ;" and reminded her aunt that she 
 had promised to call in at Mrs. Cotton's on her way 
 to lecture, to look at her hyacinths, and that she had 
 no time to lose. 
 
 Jennet obeyed, and Mrs. Grafton said, "That's 
 true, and it's thoughtful of you to think of it, Hope ; 
 but," she added, lowering her voice, " I would not
 
 8 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 like to leave you alone, so I'll just open the parlour 
 door." 
 
 Before Hope could intercept her, she set the door 
 ajar, and through the aperture Magawisca had a per- 
 fect view of Everell, who was sitting musing in the 
 window-seat. An involuntary exclamation burst 
 from her lips ; and then, shuddering at this exposure 
 of her feelings, she hastily gathered together the 
 moccasins that were strewn over the floor, dropped 
 a pair at Hope's feet, and darted away. 
 
 Hope had heard the exclamation and understood 
 it. Mrs. Grafton heard it without understanding it, 
 and followed Magawisca to the door, calling after 
 her, ^^ Do stay and take a httle something ; Madam 
 Winthrop has always a bone to give away. Ah ! 
 you might as well call after the wind ; she has al- 
 ready turned the corner. Heaven send she may 
 not bear malice against us ! What do you think, 
 Hope?" Mrs. Grafton turned to appeal to her 
 niece ; but she, foreseeing endless interrogatories, had 
 made good her retreat, and escaped to her own 
 apartment. 
 
 Jennet, however, came to the good lady's rehef ; 
 listened to all her conjectures and apprehensions, 
 and reciprocated her own. 
 
 Jennet could not say what it w^as in the woman, 
 but she had the strangest feeling all the time she 
 was there — a mysterious beating of her heart that 
 she could not account for ; as to her disappearing so 
 suddenly, that she did not think much of; the forest- 
 ers were always impatient to get to their haunts ;
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 they were like the "wild ass," that the Scripture 
 saith " scorneth the multitude of a city." 
 
 But we leave Mrs. Grafton and Jennet to their 
 unedifying conference, to follow our heroine to the 
 privacy of her own apartment. There, in the first 
 rush of her newly-awakened feelings, till then re- 
 pressed, she wept like a child, and repeated again 
 and again, " Oh, my sister ! my sister !" Her mind 
 w^as in a tumult ; she knew not what to beheve — 
 what to expect — what to hope. 
 
 But, accustomed to diffuse over every anticipation 
 the sunny hue of her own happy temperament, she 
 flattered herself that she would even that night meet 
 her sister ; that she would be forever restored to her ; 
 that the chord severed by the cruel disaster at Bethel 
 would be rebound about their hearts. She had but 
 a brief space to compose herself, and that was pass- 
 ed in fervent supplications for the blessing of God 
 upon her hopes. She must go to the lecture, and 
 after that trust to her ingenuity to escape to the ren- 
 dezvous. The thought of danger or exposure never 
 entered her mind, for she was not addicted to fear; 
 and, as she reflected on the voice and deportment of 
 the stranger, she was convinced she could be no 
 other than Magawisca, the heroine of Everell's im- 
 agination, whom he had taught her to beheve was 
 one of those who, 
 
 " Without arte's bright lamp, by nature's eye, 
 Keep just promise, and love equitie." 
 
 Almost as impatient to go to the lecture as she 
 was afterward to escape from it (we trust our read-
 
 10 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ers have absolved her for her apparent indecorum in 
 the sanctuary), she had tied and untied her hat twen- 
 ty times before she heard the ringing of the bell for 
 the assembling of the congregation. She refused, 
 as has been seen, the escort of Everell, for she dared 
 not expose to him emotions which she could not ex- 
 plain. 
 
 After the various detentions which have been al- 
 ready detailed, she arrived at the appointed rendez- 
 vous, and there saw Magawisca, and Magawisca 
 alone, kneeling before an upright stake planted at 
 one end of a grave. She appeared occupied in de- 
 lineating a figure on the stake with a small imple- 
 ment she held in her hand, which she dipped in a 
 shell placed on the ground beside her. 
 
 Hope paused with a mingled feeling of disappomt- 
 ment and awe j disappointment that her sister was 
 not there, and awe inspired by the solemnity of the 
 scene before her : the spirit-stirring figure of Maga- 
 wisca, the duty she was performing, the flickering 
 light, the monumental stones, and the dark shadows 
 that swept over them as the breeze bowed the tall 
 pines. She drew her mantle, that fluttered in the 
 breeze, close around her, and almost suppressed her 
 breath, that she might not disturb what she believed 
 to be an act of filial devotion. 
 
 Magawisca was not unconscious of Miss Leslie's 
 approach, but she deemed the office in which she 
 was engaged too sacred to be interrupted. She ac- 
 companied the movement of her hand with a low 
 chant in her native tongue j and so sweet and va-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 11 
 
 ried were the tones of her voice, that it seemed to 
 Hope they might have been breathed by an invisi- 
 ble spirit. 
 
 When she had finished her work, she leaned her 
 head for a moment against the stake, and then rose 
 and turned to Miss LesUe j a moonbeam shot across 
 her face ; it was wet with tears, but she spoke in a 
 tranquil voice. " You have come — and alone V she 
 said, casting a searching glance around her. 
 
 '* I promised to come alone," replied Hope. 
 
 " Yes, and I trusted you ; and I will trust you far- 
 ther, for the good deed you did Nelema." 
 
 " Nelema, then, lived to reach you." 
 
 " She did ; wasted, faint, and dying, she crawled 
 into my father's wigwam. She had but scant time 
 and short breath ; with that she cursed your race, 
 and blessed you, Hope Leslie j her day was ended ; 
 the hand of death pressed her throat, and even 
 then she made me swear to perform her promise to 
 you." 
 
 " And you will, Magawisca," cried Hope, impet- 
 uously, " you will give me back my sister ?" 
 
 " Nay, that she never promised — that I cannot do. 
 I cannot send back the bird that has mated, to its 
 parent nest — the stream that has mingled with other 
 waters, to its fountain." 
 
 " Oh, do not speak to me in these dark sayings," 
 replied Hope, her smooth brow contracting with 
 impatience and apprehension, and her hurried man- 
 ner and convulsed countenance contrasting strongly 
 with the calmness of Magawisca ; " what is it you 
 mean 1 Where is my sister 1"
 
 12 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " She is safe — she is near to you — and you shall 
 see her, Hope Leslie." 
 
 " But when — and where, Magawisca ? Oh, if I 
 could once clasp her in my arms, she never should 
 leave me — she never should be torn from me again." 
 
 "Those arms," said Magawisca, with a faint 
 smile, " could no more retain thy sister than a spi- 
 der's web. The lily of the Maqua's valley will never 
 again make the English garden sweet." 
 
 " Speak plainer to me," cried Hope, in a voice of 
 entreaty that could not be resisted. "Is my sis- 
 ter — " she paused, for her quivering lips could not 
 pronounce the words that rose to them. 
 
 Magawisca understood her, and replied. " Yes, 
 Hope Leslie, thy sister is married to Oneco." 
 
 " God forbid !" exclaimed Hope, shuddering as if 
 a knife had been plunged in her bosom. " My sis- 
 ter married to an Indian !" 
 
 " An Indian !" exclaimed Magawisca, recoiling 
 with a look of proud contempt, that showed she re- 
 ciprocated with full measure the scorn expressed for 
 her race. " Yes, an Indian, in whose veins runs the 
 blood of the strongest, the fleetest of the children of 
 the forest, who never turned their backs on friends 
 or enemies, and whose souls have returned to the 
 Great Spirit stainless as they came from him. Think 
 ye that your blood will be corrupted by mingling 
 with this stream ?" 
 
 Long before Magawisca ceased to pour out her 
 indignation, Hope's first emotion had given place to 
 a burst of tears j she wept aloud, and her broken ut-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 13 
 
 terance of " 0, my sister ! my sister ! My dear 
 mother !" emitted but imperfect glimpses of the ruined 
 hopes, the bitter feelings that oppressed her. 
 
 There was a chord in Magawisca's heart that 
 needed but the touch of tenderness to respond in 
 harmony; her pride vanished, and her indignation 
 gave place to sympathy. She said in a low, sooth- 
 ing voice, " Now do not weep thus ; your sister is 
 well with us. She is cherished as the bird cherishes 
 her young. The cold winds may not blow on her, 
 nor the fierce sun scorch her, nor a harsh sound ever 
 be spoken to her ; she is dear to Mononotto as if his 
 own blood ran in her veins; and Oneco — Oneco 
 worships and serves her as if all good spirits dwelt 
 in her. Oh, she is indeed well with us." 
 
 "There lies my mother," cried Hope, without 
 seeming to have heard Magawisca's consolations; 
 "she lost her life in bringing her children to this 
 wild world, to secure them in the fold of Christ. 
 0, God ! restore my sister to the Christian family." 
 
 " And here," said Magawisca, in a voice of deep 
 pathos, " here is my mother's grave ; think ye not 
 that the Great Spirit looks down on these sacred 
 spots, where the good and the peaceful rest, with 
 an equal eye ? think ye not their children are His 
 children, whether they are gathered in yonder tem- 
 ple where your people worship, or bow to him be- 
 neath the green boughs of the forest ?" 
 
 There was certainly something thrilling in Maga- 
 wisca's faith, and she now succeeded in riveting- 
 Hope's attention. " Listen to me," she said ; " your 
 
 Vol. IL— B
 
 14 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 sister is of what you call the Christian family. I be- 
 lieve ye have many names in that family. She hath 
 been signed with the cross by a holy father from 
 France ; she bows to the crucifix." 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Hope, fervently, for 
 she thought that any Christian faith was better than 
 none. 
 
 "Perhaps ye are right," said Magawisca, as if 
 she read Hope's heart ; " there may be those that 
 need other lights ; but to me, the Great Spirit is vis- 
 ible in the life-creating sun. I perceive him in the 
 gentle light of the moon that steals in through the 
 forest boughs. I feel him here," she continued, 
 pressing her hand on her breast, while her face 
 glowed with the enthusiasm of devotion. "I feel 
 him in these ever-living, ever- wakeful thoughts — 
 but we waste time. You must see your sister." 
 
 " When — and where ?" again demande^rHope. 
 
 " Before I answer you, you must promise me by 
 this sign," and she pointed 4.0 the emblem of her 
 tribe, an eagle, wdiich she had rudely delineated on 
 the post that served as a headstone to her mother's 
 grave ; " you must promise me by the bright host of 
 Heaven, that the door of your lips shall be fastj 
 that none shall know that you have seen me, or are 
 to see me again. 
 
 "I promise," said Hope, with her characteristic 
 precipitancy. 
 
 " Then, when five suns have risen and set, I will 
 return with your sister. But hush !" she said, sud- 
 denly stopping, and turning a suspicious eye towards 
 the thicket of everCTeens.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 15 
 
 " It was but the wind," said Hope, rightly inter- 
 preting Magawisca's quick glance, and the slight 
 inclination of her head. 
 
 " You would not betray me !" said Magavvisca, 
 in a voice of mingled assurance and inquiry. " Oh, 
 more than ever entered into thy young thoughts 
 hangs upon my safety." 
 
 " But why any fear for your safety ? why not 
 come openly among us ? I will get the word of our 
 good governor that you shall come and go in peace. 
 No one ever feared to trust his word." 
 
 " You know not what you ask." 
 
 " Indeed I do ; but you, Magawisca, know not 
 what you refuse ; and why refuse ? are you afraid 
 of being treated like a recovered prisoner ? Oh, no ! 
 every one will delight to honour you, for your very 
 name is dear to all ]\Ir. Fletcher's friends — most dear 
 to Everell." 
 
 " Dear to Everell Fletcher 1 Does he remember 
 me ? Is there a place in his heart for an Indian ?" 
 she demanded, with a blended expression of pride 
 and melancholy. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Magawisca, indeed is there," replied 
 Hope, for now she thought she had touched the right 
 key. " It was but this morning that he said he had 
 a mind to take an Indian guide, and seek you out 
 among the Maquas." Magawisca hid her face in 
 the folds of her mantle, and Hope proceeded with 
 increasing earnestness. " There is nothing in the 
 wide world — there is nothing that Everell thinks so 
 good and so noble as you. Oh, if you could but
 
 16 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 have seen his joy, when, after your parting on that 
 horrid rock, he first heard you was living ! He has 
 described you so often and so truly, that the moment 
 I saw you and heard your voice, I said to myself, 
 * this is surely Everell's Magawisca.' " 
 
 " Say no more, Hope Leslie, say no more,'* ex- 
 claimed Magawisca, throwing back the envelope 
 from her face, as if she were ashamed to shelter 
 emotions she ought not to indulge. " I have prom- 
 ised my father, I have repeated the vow here on my 
 mother's grave, and if I were to go back from it, 
 those bright witnesses," she pointed to the heavens, 
 " would break their silence. Do not speak to me 
 again of Everell Fletcher." 
 
 " Oh yes, once again, Magawisca : if you will not 
 listen to me ; if you will but give me this brief, mys- 
 terious meeting wdth my poor sister, at least let Ev- 
 erell be with me ; for his sake, for my sake, for your 
 own sake, do not refuse me." 
 
 Magawisca looked on Hope's glowing face for a 
 moment, and then shook her head with a melan- 
 choly smile. " They tell me," she said, " that no 
 one can look on you and deny you aught ; that you 
 can make old men's hearts soft, and mould them at 
 3'our will ; but I have learned to deny even the cra- 
 vings of my own heart ; to pursue my purpose like 
 the bird that keeps her Aving stretched to the toilsome 
 flight, though the sweetest note of her mate recalls 
 her to the nest. But ah ! I do but boast," she contin- 
 ued, casting her eyes to the ground. " I may not 
 trust myself j that was a childish scream that esca-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 17 
 
 ped me when I saw Everell ; had my father heard 
 it, his cheek would have been pale with shame. No, 
 Hope Leslie, I may not listen to thee. You must 
 come alone to the meeting, or never meet your sis- 
 ter : will you come ?" 
 
 Hope saw in the determined manner of Magawis- 
 ca that there was no alternative but to accept the 
 boon on her ow^n terms, and she no longer withheld 
 her compliance. The basis of their treaty being 
 settled, the next point to be arranged was the place 
 of meeting. Magawisca had no objections to ven- 
 ture again within the town, but then it would be 
 necessary completely to disguise Faith Leslie ; and 
 she hinted that she understood enough of Hope's 
 English feelings to know that she w^ould wish to see 
 her sister with the pure tint of her natural complex- 
 ion. 
 
 Hope had too much delicacy and too much feel- 
 ing even inadvertently to appear to lay much stress 
 on this point ; but the experience of the evening 
 made her feel the difficulty of arranging a meeting, 
 surrounded as she was by vigilant friends, and with- 
 in the sphere of their observation. Suddenly it oc- 
 curred to her that Digby, her fast friend, and on more 
 than one occasion her trusty ally, had the superin- 
 tendence of the governor's garden on an island in 
 the harbour, and within three miles of the town. 
 The governor's family were in the habit of resorting 
 thither frequently. Digby had a small habitation 
 there, of which he and his family were the only ten- 
 ants, and, indeed, were the only persons who dwelt 
 B 2
 
 18 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 on the island. Hope was certain of permission to 
 pass a night there, where she might indulge in an 
 interview with her sister of any length, without haz- 
 ard of interruption ; and, having explained her plan 
 to Magawisca, it received her ready and full acqui- 
 escence. 
 
 Before they separated, Hope said, " You will al- 
 low me, Magawisca, to persuade my sister, if I can, 
 to remain with me ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, if you can ; but do not hope to persuade 
 her. She and ray brother are as if one life-chord 
 bound them together ; and, besides, your sister can- 
 not speak to you and understand you as I do. She 
 was very young when she was taken where she has 
 only heard the Indian tongue : some, you know, are 
 like water, that retains no mark; and others like 
 the flinty rock, that never loses a mark." Maga- 
 wisca observed Hope's look of disappointment, and, 
 in a voice of pity, added, " Your sister hath a face 
 that speaketh plainly what the tongue should never 
 speak — her own goodness." 
 
 When these two romantic females had concerted 
 every measure they deemed essential to the certainty 
 and privacy of their meeting, Magawisca bowed her 
 head and kissed the border of Hope's shawl with 
 the reverent delicacy of an Oriental salutation ; she 
 then took from beneath her mantle some fragrant 
 herbs, and strewed them over her mother's grave, 
 then prostrated herself in deep and silent devotion, 
 feeling (as others have felt on earth thus consecra- 
 ted) as if the clods she pressed were instinct with
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 19 
 
 life. When this last act of filial love was done, she 
 rose, muffled herself closely in her dark mantle, and 
 departed. 
 
 Hope lingered for a moment. " Mysteriously," 
 she said, as her eye followed the noble figure of 
 Magawdsca till it was lost in the surrounding dark- 
 ness, " mysteriously have our destinies been interwo- 
 ven. Our mothers brought from a far distance to 
 rest together here — their children connected in in- 
 dissoluble bonds !" 
 
 But Hope was soon aware that this was no time 
 for solitary meditation. In the interest of her inter- 
 view with Magawisca she had been heedless of the 
 gathering storm. The clouds rolled over the moon 
 suddenly, like the unfurling of a banner, and the 
 rain poured down in torrents. Hope had no light 
 to guide her but occasional flashes of lightning, and 
 the candle whose little beam, proceeding from Mr. 
 Cotton's study window, pierced the dense sheet of 
 rain. 
 
 Hope hurried her steps homeward, and, as she 
 passed the knot of evergreens, she fancied she heard 
 a rattling of the boughs, as if there were some strug- 
 gling within, and a suppressed voice saying, " Hist ! 
 whish!" She paused, and with a resolute step 
 turned towards the thicket. ^' We have been over- 
 heard," she thought; "this generous creature shall 
 not be betrayed." At this instant a thunderbolt 
 burst over her head, and the whole earth seemed 
 kindled in one bright illumination. She was terri- 
 fied J and, perhaps, as much convinced by her fears
 
 20 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 as her reason that it was both imprudent and use- 
 less to make any farther investigation, she again bent 
 her quick steps towards home. She had scarcely 
 surmounted the fence, which she passed more like a 
 winged spirit than a fine lady, when Sir Philip Gar- 
 diner joined her. 
 
 " Miss Leslie !" he exclaimed, as a flash of light- 
 ning revealed her person. " Now, thanks to my 
 good stars that I am so fortunate as to meet you ; 
 suffer me to wrap my cloak about you ; you will be 
 drenched with this pitiless rain." 
 
 " Oh no, no," she said ; " the cloak will but en- 
 cumber me. I am already drenched, and I shall be 
 at home directly ;" and she would have left him, but 
 he caught her arm, and gently detained her while he 
 enveloped her in his cloak. 
 
 " It should not be a trifle. Miss Leslie, that has 
 kept you out, regardless of this gathering storm," Sir 
 Philip said, inquiringly. Miss Leslie made no reply, 
 and he proceeded. " You may have forgotten it is 
 Saturday night — or perhaps you have a dispensa- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " Neither," replied Hope. 
 
 " Neither ! Then I am sure you are abroad in some 
 godly cause ; for you need to be one of the right- 
 eous — who, we are told, are as bold as a lion — to 
 confront the governor's family after trespassing on 
 holy time." 
 
 *• I have no fears," said Hope. 
 
 " No fears ! That is a rare exemption for a young 
 lady ; but I would that you possessed one still more
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 21 
 
 rare : she who is incapable of fear should never be 
 exposed to clanger; and if I had a charmed shield, 
 I would devote my life to sheltering you from all 
 harm : may not — may not love be such a one 1" 
 
 " It's useless talking, Sir Philip," replied Hope, 
 if that could be deemed a reply which seemed to 
 have rather an indirect relation to the previous ad- 
 dress, " it's useless talking in this rattling storm ; 
 your words drop to the ground with the hailstones " 
 
 " And every word you utter," said the knight, bi- 
 ting his Hps with vexation, " not only penetrates my 
 ear, but sinks into my heart j therefore I pray you 
 to be merciful, and do not make my heart heavy." 
 
 "The hailstones melt as they touch the ground, 
 and my words pass away as soon, I fancy," said 
 Hope, with the most provoking nonchalance. 
 
 Sir Philip had no time to reply ; they were just 
 turning into the court in front of Governor Winthrop's 
 house, when a flash of lightning, so vivid that its 
 glare almost bhnded them, disclosed the figure of 
 the mysterious page leaning against the gatepost, 
 his head inclined forward as if in the act of listen- 
 ing, his cap in his hand, his dark curls in wild dis- 
 order over his face and neck, and he apparently un- 
 conscious of the storm. They both recoiled : Hope 
 uttered an exclamation of pity. " Ha, Roslin !" 
 burst in a tone of severe reproach from Sir Philip ; 
 but, instantly changing it for one of kindness, he add- 
 ed, " you should not have waited for me, boy, in the 
 storm." 
 
 " I cared not for the storm — I did not feel it," re-
 
 22 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 plied the lad, in a penetrating voice, which recalled 
 to Miss Leslie all he had said to her, and induced 
 her to check her first impulse to bid him in; she 
 therefore passed him without any farther notice, as- 
 cended the steps, and, as has been related in the pre- 
 ceding chapter, met Everell in the hall. 
 
 It is necessary to state briefly to our readers some 
 particulars in relation to the reappearance of Maga- 
 wisca, which events have not as yet explained. 
 
 Her father, from the hour of his expulsion from 
 his own dominion, had constantly meditated revenge. 
 His appetite was not sated at Bethel : that massa- 
 cre seemed to him but a retaliation for his private 
 wrongs. The catastrophe on the sacrifice-rock dis- 
 ordered his reason for a time ; and the Indians, who 
 perceived something extraordinary in the energy of 
 his unwavering and undivided purpose, never be- 
 lieved it to be perfectly restored. But this, so far 
 from impairing their confidence, converted it to im- 
 plicit deference ; for they, in common with certain 
 Oriental nations, believe that an insane person is in- 
 spired ; that the Divinity takes possession of the 
 temple which the spirit of the man has abandoned. 
 Whatever Mononotto predicted was believed ; what- 
 ever he ordered was done. 
 
 He felt that Oneco's volatile, unimpressive char- 
 acter was unfit for his purpose, and he permitted 
 him to pursue, without intermission, his own pleasure 
 — to hunt and fish for his " white bird," as he called 
 the little Leslie. But Magawisca was the constant
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 23 
 
 companion of her father ; susceptible and contem- 
 plative, she soon imbibed his melancholy, and be- 
 came as obedient to the impulse of his spirit as the 
 most faithful are to the fancied intimations of the 
 Divinit}- . She was the priestess of the oracle. Her 
 tenderness for Everell and her grateful recollections 
 of his lovely mother she determined to sacrifice on 
 the altar of national duty. 
 
 In the years 1642 and 1643 there was a general 
 movement among the Indians. Terrible massacres 
 were perpetrated in the English settlements in Vir- 
 ginia ; the Dutch establishments in New-York were 
 invaded, and rumours of secret and brooding hostili- 
 .#ty kept the colonies of New-England in a state of 
 perpetual alarm. Mononotto determined to avail 
 himself of this crisis, that appeared so favourable to 
 his design, of uniting all the tribes of New-England 
 in one powerful combination. He first applied to 
 Miantunnomoh, hoping by his personal influence to 
 persuade that powerful and crafty chief to sacrifice 
 to the general good his private feud with Uncas, the 
 chief of the Mohegans. 
 
 Mononotto eloquently pressed those arguments, 
 which, as is allowed by the historian of the Indian 
 wars, "seemed to right reason not only pregnant 
 to the purpose, but also most cogent and invincible," 
 and for a time they prevailed over the mind of Mi- 
 antunnomoh. 
 
 Vague rumours of conspiracy reached Boston, 
 and the governor summoned Miantunnomoh to appear 
 before his court, and abide an examination there.
 
 24 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 The chief accordingly (as has been seen) came to 
 Boston ; but so artfully did he manage his cause as 
 to screen from the English every just ground of of- 
 fence. Their suspicions, however, were not removed ; 
 for Hubbard says, " though his words were smooth- 
 er than oil, yet many conceived in his heart were 
 drawn swords." 
 
 It may appear strange, that while prosecuting so 
 hazardous and delicate an enterprise, Mononotto 
 should have encumbered himself with his family. 
 Magawisca was necessary to him ; and he submitted 
 to be accompanied by Oneco and his bride, from re- 
 spect to the dying declaration of Nelema, that his 
 plans could never be accomplished till her promise 
 to Hope Leslie had been redeemed ; till, as she had 
 sworn to her preserver, the sisters had met. 
 
 Had the Indians been capable of a firm combina- 
 tion, the purpose of Mononotto might have been 
 achieved, and the English have been then driven 
 from the American soil. But the natives were thinly 
 scattered over an immense tract of country ; the dif- 
 ferent tribes divided by petty rivalships, and impass- 
 able gulfs of long-transmitted hatred. They were 
 brave and strong, but it was brute force without art 
 or arms : they had ingenuity to form, and they did 
 form, artful conspiracies, but their best-concerted 
 plans were betrayed by the timid or the treacherous. 
 
 Mononotto trusted to his daughter the arrangement 
 of the meeting of the sisters, which, from his hav- 
 ing a superstitious notion that it was in some way to 
 influence his political purposes, he was anxious to
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 25 
 
 promote. Magawisca left her companions at an In- 
 dian station on the Neponset River, and proceeded 
 herself to Boston to seek a private interview with 
 Hope Leslie. The appearance of an Indian woman 
 in Boston excited no observation, the natives being 
 in the habit of resorting there daily with game, fish, 
 and their rude manufactures. Aware of the necessi- 
 ty of disguising every pecuharity, she unbound her 
 hair from the braids in which it was usually confined, 
 and combed it thick over her forehead, after the fash- 
 ion of the aborigines in the vicinity of Boston, whom 
 Eliot describes as wearing this " maiden veil." She 
 enveloped herself in a blanket, that concealed the 
 rich dress which it was her father's pride (and per- 
 haps her pleasure) that she should wear. Thus dis- 
 guised, and favoured by the kind shadows of twilight, 
 she presented herself at Governor Winthrop's, and 
 was, as has already appeared, successful in her mis- 
 sion. 
 
 Vol. II.— C
 
 26 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ** I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to 
 cry like a woman." — As You Like It. 
 
 Sir Philip Gardiner, by the kind offices of Gov- 
 ernor Winthrop, had obtained lodgings at one Daniel 
 Maud's, the " first recorded schoolmaster" in Boston. 
 Thither he went, followed by his moody page, after 
 receiving his cloak from our thankless heroine. 
 
 Not one word passed between him and his attend- 
 ant ; and, after they reached their apartment, the 
 boy, instead of performing the customary servile du- 
 ties of his station, threw himself on a cushion, and, 
 covering his face with his hands, seemed lost in his 
 own sorrowful meditations. 
 
 There had been a little fire kindled on the hearth. 
 Sir PhiHp laid the fallen brands together, lighted 
 the candles, arranged his writing materials on the 
 table, and, without permitting himself to be interrupt- 
 ed, or in the least affected by the sobs that, at inter- 
 vals, proceeded from his companion, he indited the 
 following epistle : 
 
 "To MY GOOD AND TRUSTY WlLTON : 
 
 "^In the name of Heaven, what sends you to 
 New-England V were your last words to me. I 
 had not time to answer your question then, and per- 
 haps, when I have finished, you will say I have not 
 ability now ; but who can explain the motives of his
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 27 
 
 conduct ? Who can always say, after an action is 
 done, that he had sufficient motive ? Not one of 
 us, Wilton, sons of whim and folly that we are ! 
 But my motives, such as they were, are at your ser- 
 vice ; so here you have them. 
 
 " I was tired of playing a losing game ; even rats, 
 you know^, have an instinct by which they flee a 
 falling house. I had some compunctious visitings at 
 leaving my king when he hath such cruel need of 
 loyal servants ; jeer not, Wilton, I had my scruples. 
 It was a saying of Father Baretti, that when Lucifer 
 fell, conscience, that once guided, remained to tor- 
 ment him. My assertion thus modestly illustrated, 
 have I not a right to say I had scruples ] I w^as wea- 
 ried with a series of ill luck, and, as other men are as 
 good to fill a ditch, I have retired till Dame Fortune 
 shall see fit to give her wheel a turn in my royal 
 master's favour. But why come hither ? to submit 
 to * King Winthrop and all his inventions, his Am- 
 sterdam fantastical ordinances, his preachings, mar- 
 ryings, and other abusive ceremonies V Patience, 
 my good gossip, and I will tell thee. 
 
 " You have heard of ray old friend and patron, 
 Thomas Morton, of Furnival's Inn ; and you know 
 he was once master of a fine domain here, at Mount 
 Wollaston, for which his revels obtained the name 
 of the ' Merry Mount.' The ruling saintships of this 
 ' New-English Canaan' were so scandalized because, 
 forsooth, he avowed and followed the free tastes of 
 a gentleman, that they ejected him from his own ter- 
 ritory.
 
 38' HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " He once wellnigh obtained redress from the 
 king, and a decree in his favour passed the Privy- 
 Seal, but the influence of his enemies finally prevail- 
 ed. He has had the consolation of sundry retalia- 
 tions on his opponents ; now, as he said, * uncasing 
 Medusa's head, and raising the old ghost of Sir F. 
 Gorges's patent,' and then thrusting home the keen 
 point of his satiric verse. However, though this was 
 a bitter draught to his adversaries, it was but lean 
 satisfaction to him ; and having become old and 
 poor, and lost his spirit, he came hither once more, 
 last winter, in the hope of obtaining an act of ob- 
 livion of all past grievances, and a restitution of his 
 rights. 
 
 " Immediately after his arrival, he wrote to me 
 that ^Joshua had promised to restore to him and 
 to his tribe their lot in the inheritance of the faithful ; 
 that he was again to be king of the revels on the 
 " Merry Mount," where he invited me to live with 
 him, his prime minister and heir-apparent.' The 
 letter came to hand at a moment when I was wea- 
 ried with a bootless service, and willing to grasp 
 any novelty, and, accordingly, 1 closed with the offer; 
 but, lo ! on my arrival, I found that Morton, instead 
 of being reinstated at Mount Wollaston, is in jail, 
 and in honest opinion is reputed crazy, as doubtless 
 he is ! Laugh at me, Wilton, even as the foul fiends 
 laugh when their master is entangled in his own 
 meshes ! I defy your laugh ; for, though a dupe, I 
 am not a victim ; and Csesar and his fortunes shall 
 yet survive the storm.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 29 
 
 " I have done with Morton ; no one here knows 
 or suspects our former alliance. My name is not 
 like to reach his ear, and if it should, who w^ould 
 take the word of a ruined man against an approved 
 candidate for membership with the congregation, 
 for such even am I — a ' brother' in this community 
 of saints. 
 
 " Luckily, Morton, with that cunning incident to 
 madness, cautioned me against appearing in this 
 camp w^ithout the uniform of the church-militant, al- 
 leging that we must play the part of pilgrims till we 
 were quite independent of the favour of the saints. 
 Accordingly, I assumed the Puritan habit, bearing, 
 and language, that so much amused you at our last 
 meeting. But why, you will ask, prolong this dull 
 masquerade ? For an object, my good Wilton, that 
 would make you or me saint or devil, or anything 
 else whereby we might secure it : the most provo- 
 king, bewitching, and soul-moving creature that ever 
 appeared in the form of woman is my tempter. She 
 is the daughter and sole heir of Sir Walter Leslie, 
 who, you may remember, was noted for his gallant- 
 ry in that mad expedition of Buckingham to the Isle 
 of Rhee. 
 
 " Is it not a shame that youth and beauty should 
 be thrown away upon these drivelling, canting, 
 preaching, praying, liberty-loving, lecture-going Pil- 
 grims? Would it not be a worthy act to tear 
 this scion of a loyal stock from these crabs of the 
 wilderness, and set her in our garden of England ? 
 And would it not be a knightly feat to win the prize 
 C 2
 
 30 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 against a young gallant, a pink of courtesy, while 
 the unfledged boy is dreaming of love's elysium ? 
 
 " Marvel as you please, Wilton, goodly prospects 
 are dawning on me ; fortune smiles, as if inchned to 
 pay the good turn she has so long owed me. I am 
 in prime credit with guardians and governors — the 
 beau-ideal of duenna-aunts and serving-maids. Time 
 and chance favour me; but — but there is always 
 some devilish cross upon my line of luck. 
 
 *' Rosa came with me to this barbarous land : a fit 
 Houri, you will say, for a Mohammedan saint, but an 
 odd appendage to a canting Roundhead : even so 
 she is ; but what was to be done ? She had no shel- 
 ter but my protection. I had still some lingering of 
 love for her, and pity (don't scoff!) ; and, besides, 
 Morton's representations had led me to believe that 
 she would not be an inconvenient member of the 
 household at Merry Mount ; so I permitted her to dis- 
 guise herself, and come over the rough seas with me. 
 She is a fantastical, wayward child, and a true wom- 
 an withal. She loves me to distraction, and would 
 sacrifice any tome but the ruling passion ofhersex,her 
 vanity ; but, in spite of my entreaties and commands, 
 she persists in wearing a velvet Spanish hat, with a 
 buckle and feathers, most audaciously cocked on one 
 side ; and, indeed, her whole apparel would better 
 suit a queen's page than the humble serving-boy of 
 a self-denying Puritan. 
 
 " Luckily, she is sad and dumpish, and does not 
 incline to go abroad ; but, whenever she does appear, 
 I perceive she is eyed with curiosity and suspicion ;
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 31 
 
 and suspicion once thoroughly awakened, drscov- 
 ery is inevitable, for you know her face gives the lie 
 to her doublet and hose. 
 
 " ' Diana's lip is not more smooth and rubious, 
 
 Her small pipe is as the maiden's organ, sound and shrill, 
 And all is semblative a woman's part.' 
 
 " If we should be detected, I know not what pun- 
 ishment may be inflicted by the Draco-laws of these 
 saints : a public whipping of poor Rosa — cropping 
 of my ears — imprisonment — perhaps death, if, per- 
 adventure, some authority therefor should be found in 
 the statutes of the land ; that is to say, in the old 
 Jewish records. 
 
 " But why expose myself to such peril ? Ah . 
 Wilton, you would not ask why if you could see my 
 enchantress ; but, without seeing her, no man knows 
 better than you that 
 
 " ' Love is a sweet intice, 
 
 'Gainst whom the wisest wits as yet 
 Have never found devise.' 
 
 "If I could but persuade Rosa to be prudent till 
 we may both cast off these odious disguises ; but she 
 disdains all caution, and fears nothing but being sup- 
 planted in my favour. 
 
 " She is still in the fever of love — all eye and ear 
 — irritable, jealous, w^atchful, and suspicious. One 
 moment passionate, and the next dissolved in tears. 
 So intense a flame must purify or consume the senti- 
 ment her beauty inspired ; it cannot be purified, and 
 — the alternative — it is consumed. 
 
 " I cannot rid myself of her, I cannot control her,
 
 32 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and in this jeopardy I stand ; but I abandon all to 
 my destiny. Even Jupiter, you know, was ruled by 
 fate. It is folly to attempt to shape the events of 
 life ; as easily might we direct the course of the 
 stars : those very stars, perhaps, govern the accidents 
 of our being. The stars — destiny — Providence, what 
 are they all but various terms for the same invisible, 
 irresistible agency ? But Heaven forbid I should lose 
 myself in the bewildering mazes of these high spec- 
 ulations ! It is enough for me that I am a knight of 
 the Holy Sepulchre, that I wear my crucifix, pray to 
 all the saints, and eat no flesh on Fridays. By-the- 
 "way, on the very first day of my arrival here, I came 
 nigh to winning the crown of martyrdom by my 
 saintly obedience to the canons of Holy Church. The 
 Leslie, in simplicity or mischief, remarked on my 
 confining myself to fish on Friday ; rebel conscience, 
 in spite of me, tinged my cheeks ; but, thanks to my 
 garb of hypocrisy — panoply of steel never did bet- 
 ter service — the Hght thrust glanced off and left me 
 unharmed. 
 
 "You and I, Wilton, are too old to make, like 
 dreaming boys, an El Dorado of our future, and you 
 will ask me what are my rational chances of suc- 
 cess in my present enterprise. I will not remind 
 you of success on former similar occasions, for my 
 vanity has been abated of its presumption this very 
 evening by the indifference, real or affected, of this 
 little sprite. 
 
 " Ladies must have lovers — idols must have w^or- 
 shippers, or they are no longer idols. I have but
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 33 
 
 one rival here, and he, I think, is appointed by his 
 ■wise guardians to another destiny ; and being a right 
 dutiful youth, he, no doubtj with management, and 
 good fortune on my part, may be made to surrender 
 his preference (which, by-the-way, is quite obvious), 
 and pass under the yoke of authority. Besides, the 
 helpmate selected by these judges in Israel for the 
 good youth might be, if she were a little less saint 
 and more woman, a queen of love and beauty. But 
 she is not to my taste, I covet not smiles cold as a 
 sunbeam on Arctic snows. Nothing in life is duller 
 than mathematical virtue ; nothing more paralyzing 
 to the imagination than unaffected prudery. I detest 
 a woman like a walled city, that can never be ap- 
 proached without your being reminded that it is in- 
 accessible ; a woman whose measured, premeditated 
 words sound always like the sentinel-cry, * All is 
 well!' 
 
 "Now the Leslie has a generous rashness, a 
 thoughtless impetuosity, a fearlessness of the sancti- 
 monious dictators that surround her, and a noble con- 
 tempt of danger, that stimulate me, at least, to love 
 and enterprise. 
 
 " My hope is bold, Wilton ; my ambition is to win 
 her heart; my determination to possess her hand, 
 by fair means if I can ; but if fortune is adverse — if, 
 as I sometimes fear, when I shrink from the falcon 
 glance of her bright eye as if the spear of Ithuriel 
 touched me — if she has already penetrated my dis- 
 guise, and persists in disregarding my suit, why, then, 
 Necessity ! parent of all witty inventions, come thou 
 to my aid.
 
 34 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Our old acquaintance, Chaddock, is riding in the 
 harbour here, owner and commander of a good pin- 
 nace. I have heard him spoken of in the godly 
 companies I frequent as a ' notorious contemner of 
 ordinances,' from which I infer he is the same bold 
 desperado we knew him. My word for it, it does 
 not require more courage to march up to the can- 
 non's mouth than to claim the independence of a 
 gentleman in this Pharisaic land. Now I think, if I 
 should have occasion to smuggle any precious freight, 
 and convey it over the deep waters, convenient op- 
 portunity and fit agents will not be w^anting. Time 
 will ripen or blast my budding hopes : if ripen, why, 
 then, I will cast my slough here, and present my 
 beautiful bride to my royal master j or if, perchance, 
 royalty should be in eclipse in England, there are, 
 thank Heaven, other asylums for beauty and fortune. 
 
 " Farewell, Wilton j yours in good faith, 
 
 " Gardiner." 
 
 As Sir Philip signed his name to this epistle, he 
 felt Rosa's head drop upon his shoulder ; an action 
 that indicated, too truly, that she had been looking 
 over the last paragraphs, at least, of his letter. 
 
 Fury flashed from his eyes, and he raised his hand 
 to strike her ; but, before he had executed the unman- 
 ly act, she burst into a wild hysteric laugh, that 
 changed his resentment to fear. "Rosa, Rosa," 
 he said, in a soothing tone, " for Heaven's sake be 
 quiet ; you will be overheard — you will betray all." 
 
 She seemed not to hear him, but wringing her
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 35 
 
 hands, she repeated again and again, "I wish I 
 were dead ! I wish I were dead !" 
 
 " Hush ! foolish, mad child, or you will be discov- 
 ered, and may indeed bring death upon yourself." 
 
 " Death ! I care not ; death would be heaven's 
 mercy to what I suffer. What is death to shame ! to 
 guilt! to the bitterness of disappointment! to the 
 rage of jealousy ! Why should not I die !" she con- 
 tinued, overpowering Sir Philip's vain attempts to 
 calm her ; " why should not I die ? there is nobody 
 to care for me if I live, and there is nobody to weep 
 for me if I die." 
 
 " Patience — patience, Rosa." 
 
 " Patience ! my patience is worn out ; I am tired 
 of this dreary world. that Lady Lunford had 
 left me in my convent ; I should have been happy 
 there. She did not love me. Nobody has loved me 
 since I left the good nuns — nobody but my little Ca- 
 nary-bird, Mignonne ; and she always loved me, and 
 would always sing to me, and sing sweetest when 
 my lady was cruellest. Cruel as my lady was, her 
 cruelty was kindness to thine. Sir Philip. that 
 you had left me with her !" 
 
 " You came to me with your own good-will, 
 Rosa." 
 
 " Ay, Sir Philip ; and will not the innocent babe 
 stretch its arms to the assassin if he does but smile 
 on it ? You told me you loved me, and I believed 
 you. You promised always to love me, and I be- 
 lieved that too ; and there was nobody else that lov- 
 ed me but Mignonne j and, now I am all alone in the
 
 36 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 wide world, I do wish I were dead." She sunk 
 down at Sir Phihp's feet, laid her head on his knee, 
 and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. " Oh ! 
 what shall I do," she said ; " where shall Igol If 
 I go to the good, they will frown on me and despise 
 me ; and I cannot go to the wucked — they have no 
 pity." 
 
 Sir Philip's heart, depraved as it Avas, felt some 
 emotions of compassion as he looked on this young 
 and beautiful creature, bowed to the earth with rem- 
 ediless anguish ; some touches of remorse and pity, 
 such as Milton's fallen angel felt when he contem- 
 plated those " millions of spirits for his fault amer- 
 ced of Heaven." " Poor child !" he said, laying his 
 hand on her smooth brow, " would to God you had 
 never left your convent !" 
 
 Rosa felt the blistering tears, that flowed from the 
 relics of his better nature, drop on her cheek. She 
 raised her heavy lids, and a ray of pleasure shot 
 from her kindling eye. " Then you do love me," 
 she said ; " you would not weep only for pity j you 
 do love me still ?' 
 
 iSir Philip perceived the eagerness with which she 
 caught at the first glimmering of returning tender- 
 ness, and well knew how to draw his advantage 
 from it. He soothed her with caresses and profes- 
 sions^ and, when he had restored her to composure, 
 he endeavoured to impress her with the necessity, for 
 both their sakes, of more prudent conduct. He con- 
 vinced her that their happiness, their safety, and per- 
 haps their lives, depended on their escaping detec-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 37 
 
 tion ; and, after explaining the defeat of his hopes 
 in relation to JMorton, he averred that the part of his 
 letter relating to Miss Leslie was mere badinage, 
 written for his friend's amusement ; and he conclu- 
 ded with reiterated promises that he would return 
 with her in the first ship bound to England. 
 
 Rosa was credulous — at least she wished to be- 
 lieve ; she was grateful for restored tenderness ; and, 
 without daring to confess how nearly she had al- 
 ready betrayed him to Miss Leslie, she promised all 
 the circumspection that Sir Philip required. 
 
 Vol. IL— D
 
 38 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
 But that thou overheard'st me ere I was 'ware 
 My love's true passion ; therefore pardon me, 
 And not impute this yielding to light love." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 The week that succeeded Hope Leslie's interview 
 with Magawisca was one of anxiety to most of the 
 members of Governor Winthrcp's family. 
 
 The habitual self-possession of the governor him- 
 self seemed somewhat disturbed ; he was abstracted 
 and thoughtful ; frequently held secret conferences 
 with Sir Philip Gardiner in his study ; and, in rela- 
 tion to this stranger, he appeared to have departed 
 from his usual diplomatic caution, and to have ad- 
 mitted him to the most confidential intimacy. There 
 were frequent private meetings of the magistrates; 
 and it was quite evident, from the external motions 
 of these guardians of the colony, that some state se- 
 cret was heaving in their bosoms. 
 
 The governor was in the habit of participatmg 
 with his wife his most secret state affairs, moved to 
 this confidence, no doubt, by his strict views of her 
 rights as his helpmate ; for it cannot be supposed, 
 even for a moment, that one of the superior sex should 
 find pleasure in telling a secret. 
 
 But in this instance he communicated nothing to 
 his trustworthy partner, excepting some obscure in- '
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 39 
 
 timationsthat might be gathered from the significant 
 utterance of such general truths as, " That it was im- 
 possible for human foresight to foresee everything ; 
 that those who stood at the helm of state could not 
 be too vigilant ; that ends were often brought about 
 by unexpected means ;" and similar truisms, which, 
 enunciated by grave and dignified lips, are invested 
 with importance from the source whence they pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 Madam Winthrop was happily too much absorb- 
 ed with the feminine employment of watching the de- 
 velopment of her niece's affairs to have much curios- 
 ity in relation to cabinet secrets. She naturally 
 concluded that some dangerous adherent of that arch- 
 heretic, Gorton, had been discovered ; or, perhaps, 
 some new mode of faith had dem^anded magisterial 
 interference ; whatever her mental conclusions were, 
 it is certain her thoughts all ran in another channel. 
 In all ages of the world, in every condition, and at 
 every period of life, a woman's interest in the prog- 
 ress of a love-affair masters every other feeling. 
 
 Esther Downing was a favourite of her aunt : and 
 as it had been urged by Mr. Downing, as an objec- 
 tion to his removal to New-England, that his daugh- 
 ters would have small chance of being eligibly mar- 
 ried there, it became a point of honour with Madam 
 Winthrop, after he had been persuaded to overlook 
 this objection, to prove to him that it was unfound- 
 ed. 
 
 Madam Winthrop was too upright intentionally 
 to do a wrong to any one j but, without being her-
 
 40 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 self conscious of it, she was continually setting off 
 the lights of her niece's character by what she deem- 
 ed the shades of Hope Leslie's. Our heroine's inde- 
 pendent temper and careless gayety of heart had 
 more than once offended against the strict notions 
 of Madam Winthrop, who was of the opinion that 
 the deferential manners of youth, which were the 
 fashion of the age, had their foundation in immuta- 
 ble principles. 
 
 Nothing was farther from Miss Leslie's intention 
 than any disrespect to a woman whom she had been 
 taught to venerate ; but, unfortunately, she would 
 sometimes receive what Madam Winthrop meant for 
 affability as if it were simply the kindness of an 
 equal ; she had been seen to gape in the midst of 
 the good lady's most edifying remarks; and once 
 she ran away to gaze on a brilliant sunset at the mo- 
 ment Madam Winthrop was condescendingly rela- 
 ting some very important particulars of her early 
 life. This was certainly indecorous ; but her offen- 
 ces were trifling, and were probably forgotten by 
 Madam Winthrop herself long before their effects 
 were effaced from her mind. 
 
 Esther was always respectful, always patient, al- 
 ways governed by the slightest intimation of her 
 aunt's wishes ; and it must be confessed that, even 
 to those who were less partial and prejudiced than 
 Madam Winthrop, Miss Downing appeared far more 
 lovely than our heroine during the week when she 
 was suffering the extremes of anxiety and apprehen- 
 sion. No one who did not know that there was a
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 41 
 
 secret and sufficient cause for her restlessness, her 
 seeming indifference to her friends, and to everything 
 about her, could have escaped the conclusion that 
 forced itself on EverelPs mind : that fortune, and 
 beauty, and indulgence had had their usual and fatal 
 effect on Hope Leslie. In the bitterness of his dis- 
 appointment, he wished he had never returned to 
 have the vision of her ideal perfection expelled from 
 his imagination by the hght of truth. 
 
 With the irritable feeling of a lover, he watched 
 the devoted attentions of Sir Philip Gardiner to 
 Hope, which she, almost unconscious of them, re- 
 ceived passively, but, as Everell thought, favoura- 
 bly. Utterly engrossed in one object, she never re- 
 flected that there had been anything in her conduct 
 to excite EverelPs distrust ; and, feeling more than 
 ever the want of that sympathy and undisguised af- 
 fection which she had always received from him, 
 she was hurt at his altered conduct ; and her man- 
 ner insensibly conforming to the coldness and con- 
 straint of his, he naturally concluded that she design- 
 ed to repel him, and he would turn from her to re- 
 pose in the calm and twilight quiet that was shed 
 about the gentle Esther, whom he knew to be pure, 
 disinterested, humble, and devoted. 
 
 Poor Hope, the subject of his unjust condemna- 
 tion, was agitated, not only by impatience for the 
 promised meeting with her unfortunate sister, but by 
 fear that some unforeseen circumstance might prevent 
 it. She was also harassed with a sense of conflict- 
 ing duties. She sometimes thought that the duty of 
 D 2
 
 42 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 restoring her sister to the condition in which she was 
 born was paramount to the obhgation of her pronaise 
 to Magawisca. She would waver and resolve to 
 disclose her secret appointment; but the form of 
 Magawdsca w^ould rise to her recollection, with its 
 expression of truth, sweetness, and confidence, as if 
 to check her treacherous purpose. 
 
 A thousand times she condemned herself for the 
 rashness of her promise to Magawnsca, by w^hich she 
 had reduced herself, surrounded as she was by wise 
 and efficient friends, to act wdthout their council and 
 aid. Had Everell treated her with his accustomed 
 kindness, the habitual confidence of their intercourse 
 might have led her to break through the restriction 
 of her promise, but she dared not deliberately vio- 
 late her word so solemnly pledged. Oppressed with 
 these anxieties, the hours rolled heavily on; and 
 when Friday, the appointed day, arrived, it seemed 
 to Hope that an age had intervened since her inter- 
 view with Magawisca. 
 
 She had taken care previously to propose an ex- 
 cursion on Friday to the governor's garden; and, 
 contrary to usual experience when a long-projected 
 pleasure is to be realized, every circumstance was 
 propitious. The day was propitious — one of Na- 
 ture's holydays; the governor, too, was propitious, 
 and even promoted the party with unprecedented 
 zeal. 
 
 After various delays, which, however trifling, had 
 increased Hope's nervous impatience, they were on 
 the point of setting forth, when Madam Winthrop,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 43 
 
 who was not one of the party, came into the parlour, 
 and said, after a slight hesitation, " I am loath, my 
 young friends, to interfere with what you seem to 
 have set your hearts on, but really — " she paused. 
 
 " Really what, ma'am ?" asked Hope, impatiently. 
 
 Madam Winthrop was not inclined to be spurred 
 by Miss Leslie, and she answered very deliberately, 
 " I have a feehng as if something were to happen 
 to-day. I am a coward on the water at all times, 
 more than becomes one who fully realizes that the 
 same Providence that watches over us on the land 
 follows us on the great deep." 
 
 " But your fears, madam," said Sir Philip, " did 
 not prevent your crossing the stormy Atlantic." 
 
 " Nay, Sir Philip ; and I know not what mettle 
 that woman is made of that would not go hand in 
 hand with her husband in so glorious a cause as 
 ours." 
 
 " Are we not all ready ?" asked Hope, anxious to 
 escape before Madam Winthrop proposed, as she 
 apprehended she was about to do, a postponement of 
 the party. 
 
 " Yes, all ready, I believe. Miss Leslie, but not all 
 too impatient to await a remark I was about to make, 
 namely, Sir Philip, that a party of pleasure is very 
 different from a voyage of duty." 
 
 " Certainly, madam," replied Sir Philip, who 
 trusted that assent would end the conversation, 
 " widely different." 
 
 " It is not necessary for me," resumed Madam 
 "Winthrop, " to state all the points of difference."
 
 44 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Oh ! not in the least, ma'am," exclaimed Hope. 
 
 " Miss Leslie !" said Madam Winthrop, in a tone 
 of surprise ; and then, turning her eye to Everell, who 
 was standing next to Esther, she said, resuming her 
 measured tone, " My responsibility is so great to my 
 brother Downing — I had an uncommon dream about 
 you, Esther, last night ; and, if anything should hap- 
 pen to you — " 
 
 " If it is me you are concerned about, aunt,' ' said 
 Esther, untying her bonnet, " I will remain at home. 
 Do not let me detain you," she added, turning to 
 Hope, " another moment." 
 
 Nothing seemed to Hope of any importance in 
 comparison with the prosecution of her plans ; and, 
 nodding a pleased assent to Esther, she took her 
 aunt's arm in readiness to depart. 
 
 " How changed," thought Everell, as his eye 
 glanced towards her, '' thus selfishly and impatiently 
 to pursue her own pleasure without the slightest no- 
 tice of her friend's disappointment." His good feel- 
 ings were interested to compensate for the indiffer- 
 ence of Hope. " If," he said to Madam Winthrop, 
 " you will commit Miss Downing to my care, I will 
 promise she shall encounter no danger that my cau- 
 tion may avoid or my skill overcome." 
 
 Madam Winthrop's apprehensions vanished. " If 
 she is in your particular charge, Mr. Everell," she 
 said, " I shall be greatly relieved. I know I am of 
 too anxious a make. Go, my dear Esther ; Mr. Ev- 
 erell will be constantly near you — under Providence, 
 your safeguard. I believe it is not right to be too
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 45 
 
 much influenced by dreams. See that she keeps her 
 shawl round her, Mr. Everell, while on the water. 
 I feel quite easy in confiding her to your care." 
 
 Everell bowed, and expressed his gratitude for 
 Madam Winthrop's confidence, and Esther turned 
 on him a look of that meek and pleased dependance 
 which it is natural for woman to feel, and which men 
 like to inspire, because, perhaps, it seems to them an 
 instinctive tribute to their natural superiority. 
 
 " Miss Leslie has become so sedate of late," con- 
 tinued Madam Winthrop, with a very significant 
 smile, " that I scarcely need request that no unwont- 
 ed sounds of revelry and mirth may proceed from any 
 member of the governor's family, which ever has been, 
 as it should be, a pattern of Gospel sobriety to the 
 colony." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton dropped a bracelet she was clasping 
 on her niece's arm, but Madam Winthrop's remark 
 — half reproof, half admonition — excited no emotion 
 in Hope, w^hose heart was throbbing with her own 
 secret anxieties, and who was now in some measure 
 relieved by Sir Philip making a motion for their de- 
 parture, by adroitly availing himself of this first avail- 
 able pause, and offering her his arm. 
 
 As soon as they were fairly out of the house, 
 " Revelry and mirth," exclaimed Mrs. Grafton, as if 
 the words blistered her tongue, " revelry and mirth, 
 indeed ! I think poor Hope will forget how to laugh 
 if she stays here much longer. I wonder, Sir Philip, 
 if it is such a mighty offence to use one's laughing 
 faculties, what they were given for I''
 
 46 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 "I believe, madam," replied the knight, with 
 well-sustained gravity, " that ingenious theologians 
 impute this convulsion of the muscles to some disor- 
 ganization occasioned by Adam's transgression ; and, 
 in support of their hypothesis, they maintain that 
 there is no allusion to laughter in Scripture. Madam 
 Winthrop, I fancy, intends that her house shall be a 
 little heaven on earth." 
 
 Honest Cradock, who had taken his favourite sta- 
 tion at Miss Leslie's side, replied, without in the least 
 suspecting the knight's irony, " Now, Sir Philip, I 
 marvel whence you draw that opinion. I have stud- 
 ied all masters in theology, from the oldest down to 
 the youngest, and, greatest of all. Master Calvin, 
 with whose precious sentences I ' sweeten my mouth 
 always before going to bed,' yet did I never see that 
 strange doctrine concerning laughter. To me it ap- 
 pears — the Lord preserve me from advancing novel- 
 ties — but to me it appears that there is no human 
 sound so pleasant and so musical as the laugh of a lit- 
 tle child, and of such are the kingdom of Heaven. 
 I have heard the walls at Bethel ring with bursts of 
 laughter from Miss Hope ; and the thought came to 
 me (the Lord forgive me if I erred therein) that it 
 w^as the natural voice of innocence, and, therefore, 
 pleasing to him that made her." 
 
 Hope was touched with the pure sentiment of her 
 good tutor, and she involuntarily slipped her arm 
 into his. Sir Philip w^as also touched, and, for once 
 speaking without forethought, he said, " I would 
 give a kingdom for one of the laughs of my boyhood."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 47 
 
 " I dare say, Sir Philip," said Cradock. " for tru- 
 ly there is no heart-work in the transgressor's laugh." 
 
 " Sir !" exclaimed Sir Philip, angrily. 
 
 The simple man started as if he had received a 
 blow, and Hope said, " You did not mean to call Sir 
 Philip a transgressor ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly not, in particular, certainly not ; 
 Sir Philip's professions are great, and, I doubt not, 
 practice correspondent ; but all of us add daily trans- 
 gression to transgression, which, I doubt not, Sir Phil- 
 ip will allow." 
 
 " Yes," said Hope, archly, " it is far easier, as is 
 said in one of your good books. Master Cradock, ' to 
 subscribe to a sentence of universal condemnation 
 than to confess individtkal sins.' " 
 
 " What blessed times we have fallen on," retort- 
 ed Sir Philip, " when youthful beauties, instead of 
 listening to the idle songs of Troubadours, or the fan- 
 tastic flatteries of vagrant knights, or announcing 
 with their ruby lips the rewards of chivalry, are ex- 
 ploring the mines of divinity with learned theologi- 
 ans like Master Cradock, and bringing forth such 
 diamond sentences as the pithy saying Miss Leslie 
 has quoted." 
 
 " Heaven preserve us ! Sir Philip," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Grafton, " Hope Leslie study theology I you are as 
 mad as a March hare; all her theology she has 
 learned out of the Bible and Common Prayer-book, 
 which should always go together, in spite of what 
 the governor says. It is peculiar that a man of his 
 commodity of sense should bamboozle himself with
 
 48 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 that story he told at breakfast. Oh, you was not 
 there, Sir Phihp : well, he says that in his son's li- 
 brary there are a thousand books, and among them 
 a Bible and Prayer-book bound together — one jewel 
 in the dunghill — but that is not what he says ; it 
 seems that this unlucky Prayer-book is gnawed to 
 mince-meat by the mice, and not another book in 
 the library touched.* I longed to commend the in- 
 stinct of the little beasts, that knew what good food 
 w^as ; but everybody listened with such a solemn air, 
 and even you, Hope Leslie, who are never afraid to 
 smile, even you did not move your lips." 
 
 " I did not hear it," said Hope. 
 
 " Did not hear it ! that is peculiar ; why, it was 
 just when Robin was coming in with the rolls — just 
 as I had taken my second cup — just as Everell gave 
 Esther Downing that bunch of rosebuds : did you 
 take notice of that ?" 
 
 " Yes," rephed Hope, and a deep blush suffused 
 her cheek. She had noticed the offering with pain, 
 not because her friend was preferred, but because it 
 led her mind back to the time when she was the ob- 
 ject of all Everell's little favours, and impressed her 
 with a sense of his altered conduct. 
 
 The telltale blush did not escape the watchful 
 eye of Sir Philip ; and, determined to ascertain if the 
 " bolt of Cupid" had fallen on this " little Western 
 flower," he said, "I perceive that Miss Leslie is 
 aware that rosebuds, in the vocabulary of lovers, are 
 made to signify a declaration of the tender passion." 
 
 * A fact gravely stated in Governor Winthrop's journal.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 49 
 
 Secret springs of the heart are sometimes sudden- 
 ly touched, and feelings disclosed that have been 
 hidden even from our own self-observation. Hope 
 had been moved by Miss Downing's story, and ta- 
 king a generous interest in her happiness, she had, 
 with that ardent feeling with which she pursued 
 every object that interested her, resolved to promote 
 it in the only mode by which it could be attained. 
 But now, at the first intimation that her romantic 
 wishes were to be fulfilled, strange to tell, and still 
 stranger to her to feel, there was a sudden rising in 
 her heart of disappointment, a sense of loss, and, 
 we shrink from recording it, but the truth must be 
 told, tears, honest tears, gushed from her eyes. Oh, 
 pardon her, all ye youthful devotees to secret self- 
 immolation ! all ye youthful Minervas, who hide 
 with an impenetrable shield of wisdom and dignity, 
 the natural workings of your hearts ! Make all due 
 allowance for a heroine of the seventeenth century, 
 who had the misfortune to five before there was a 
 system of education extant, who had not learned, 
 like some young ladies of our enlightened days, to 
 prattle of metaphysics, to quote Reid, and Stewart, 
 and Brown, and to know (full as well as they, per- 
 haps) the springs of human action, the mysteries of 
 mind, still profound mysteries to the unlearned. 
 
 Hope Leslie was shocked, not that she had be- 
 trayed her feeUngs to her companions, but at her 
 own discovery of their existence ; not that they had 
 appeared, but that they were. The change had been 
 so gradual, from her childish fondness for Everell; to 
 
 Vol. II.~ E
 
 50 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 a more mature sentiment, as to be imperceptible even 
 to herself. She made no essay to explain her emo- 
 tion. Mrs. Grafton, though not remarkably saga- 
 cious, was aware of its obvious interpretation, and 
 of the pressing necessity of offering some ingenious 
 reading. " What a miserable nervous way you have 
 fallen into, Hope," she said, " since you was caught 
 out in that storm ; she must have taken an inward 
 cold. Sir Philip." 
 
 " The symptoms," replied the knight, significantly, 
 " would rather, I should think, indicate an internal 
 heat." 
 
 " Heat or cold, Hope," continued Mrs. Grafton, 
 "I am determined you shall go through a regular 
 course of medicine ; valerian tea in the morning, 
 and lenitive drops at night. You have not eaten 
 enough for the last week to keep a humming-bird 
 ahve. Hope has no kind of faith in medicine. Sir 
 Philip, but I can tell her it is absolutely necessary, 
 in the spring of the year, to sweeten the blood." 
 
 Sir Philip looked at Hope's glowing face, and 
 said "he thought such blood as mantled in Miss 
 Leslie's cheek needed no medical art to sweeten it." 
 
 Hope, alike insensible to the good-natured efforts 
 of her aunt and the flatteries of Sir Philip, was men- 
 tally resolving to act most heroically, to expel every 
 selfish feeling from her heart, and to live for the 
 happiness of others. 
 
 The experienced smile sorrowfully at the generous 
 impulses and fearless resolves of the young, who 
 know not how costly is the sacrifice of self-indul-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 51 
 
 gence, how difficult the ascent to the heights of 
 disinterestedness ; but let not the youthful aspirant 
 be discouraged; the wing is strengthened by use, 
 and the bird that drops in its first flutterings about 
 the parent-nest, may yet soar to the sky. 
 
 Our heroine had rallied her spirits by the time she 
 joined her companions in the boat that was awaiting 
 them at the wharf; and in the effort to veil her feel- 
 ings, she appeared to Everell extravagantly gay; 
 and he, being unusually pensive, and seeing no cause 
 for her apparent excitement, attributed it to Sir Phil- 
 ip's devotion : a cause that certainly had no tendency 
 to render the effect agreeable to him. 
 
 When they disembarked, they proceeded imme- 
 diately to the single habitation on the island, Dig- 
 by's neat residence. The faithful fellow^ welcomed 
 Everell with transports of joy. He had a thousand 
 questions to ask and recollections to recall ; and while 
 Everell lingered to listen, and Hope and Esther, from 
 a very natural sympathy, to witness the overflowings 
 of the good fellow's affectionate heart, their com- 
 panions left them to stroll about the island. 
 
 As soon as his audience was thus reduced, " It 
 seems but a day,^' he said, " since you, Mr. Everell, 
 and Miss Leslie were but children." 
 
 " And happy children, Digby, were we not ?" said 
 Everell, with a suppressed sigh, and venturing a side 
 glance at Hope ; but her face was averted, and he 
 could not see whether Digby had awakened any rec- 
 ollections in her bosom responding to liis own. 
 
 " Happy 1 that were you," replied Digby, " and
 
 52 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the lovingest/' he continued, little thinking that ev- 
 ery word he uttered was as a talisman to his audi- 
 tors, " the lovingest that ever I saw. Young folks, 
 for the most part, are like an April day — clouds and 
 sunshine : there are my young ones, though they 
 look so happy now they have your English presents, 
 Mr. Everell, yet they must now and then fall to their 
 little battles— show out the natural man, as the min- 
 isters say ; but with you and Miss Hope it was always 
 sunshine : it was not strange, either, seeing you were 
 all in all to one another after that terrible sweep-off 
 at Bethel. It is odd what vagaries come and go in 
 a body's mind ; time was when I viewed you as good 
 as mated with Magawisca ; forgive me for speaking 
 so, Mr. Everell, seeing she was but a tawny Indian, 
 after all." 
 
 " Forgive you, Digby ! you do me honour by im- 
 plying that I rightly estimated that noble creature ; 
 and before she had done the heroic deed to which I 
 owe my life — yes, Digby, I might have loved her — 
 might have forgotten that Nature had put barriers 
 between us." 
 
 " I don't know but you might, Mr. Everell, but I 
 don't believe you would ; things would naturally 
 have taken another course after Miss Hope came 
 among us ; and many a time I thought it was well 
 it was as it was, for I believe it would have broken 
 Magawisca's heart to have been put in that kind of 
 eclipse by Miss Leslie's coming between you and her. 
 Now all is as it should be ; as your mother — blessed 
 be her memory — would have wished, and your fa- 
 ther, and all the world."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 53 
 
 Digby seemed to have arranged everything in his 
 own mind according to what he deemed natural and 
 proper; and, too self-complacent at the moment to 
 receive any check to his garrulity from the silence of 
 his guests, he proceeded. " The tree follows the 
 bent of the twig ; what think you, Miss Esther, is not 
 there a w^edding a brewing ?" Miss Downing was 
 silent : Digby looked round, and saw confusion in 
 every face, and, feeling that he had ventured on for- 
 bidden ground, he tried to stammer out an apology. 
 ^' I declare, now," he said, " it'-s odd — it's a sign I 
 grow old ; but I quite entirely forgot how queer 
 young people feel about such things. I should not 
 have blundered on so, but my wife put it into my 
 head ; she is equal to Nebuchadnezzar for dreaming 
 dreams ; and three times last night she waked me 
 to tell me about her dreaming of a funeral, and that, 
 she said, was a sure forerunner of a wedding ; and 
 it was natural I should go on thinking whose wed- 
 ding was coming, was it not. Miss Esther ?" 
 
 Everell turned away to caress a chubby boy. Miss 
 Downing fidgeted with hex bonnet-strings, threw 
 back her shawl, and disclosed the memorable knot 
 of rosebuds. If they had a meaning, they seemed 
 also to have a voice, and they roused Hope Leslie's 
 resolution. Some pride might have aided her, but 
 it was maidenly pride, and her feelings were as near 
 to pure generosity as our infirm nature can approach. 
 
 " Digby," she said, " it was quite natural for you 
 both to think and speak of Mr. Everell's wedding ; 
 we are to have it, and that right soon, I hope ; you 
 E 2
 
 54 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 have only mistaken the bride; and as neither of the 
 parties will speak to set you right," and she glan- 
 ced her eyes from Esther to Everell, " why, I must." 
 
 Esther became as pale as marble. Hope flew to 
 her side, took her hand, placed it in Everell's, threw 
 her arm around Esther, kissed her cheek, and dart- 
 ed out of the house. Digby half articulated an ex- 
 pression of disappointment and surprise, and, impell- 
 ed by an instinct that told him this was not a scene 
 for witnesses, he too disappeared. 
 
 Never were two young people left in a more per- 
 plexing predicament. To Everell it was a moment 
 of indescribable confusion and embarrassment. To 
 Esther, of overwhelming recollections, of apprehen- 
 sion, and hope, and, above all, shame. 
 
 She would gladly have buried herself in the depths 
 of the earth. Everell understood her feelings. 
 There was no time for deliberation ; and with emo- 
 tions that would have made self-immolation at the 
 moment easy, and impelled, as it seemed to him, by 
 an irresistible destiny, he said something about the 
 happiness of retaining the hand he held. 
 
 Miss Downing, confused by her own feelings, 
 misinterpreted his. She was, at the moment, inca- 
 pable of estimating the disparity between his few, 
 broken, disjointed, half-uttered words, and the natu- 
 ral, free, full expressions of an ardent and happy 
 lover. She only spoke a few words, to refer him to 
 her aunt Winthrop ; but her hand, passive in his, 
 her burning cheeks and throbbing heart, told him 
 what no third person could tell, and what her tongue 
 could not utter.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 55 
 
 Thus had Hope Leslie, by rashly following her 
 first generous impulses, by giving to " unproportion- 
 ed thought its act," effected that which the avowed 
 tenderness of Miss Downing, the united instances 
 of Mr. Fletcher and Governor Winthrcp, and the 
 whole colony and world beside, could never have 
 achieved. Unconscious of the mistake by which she 
 had put the happiness of all parties concerned in 
 jeopardy, she was exulting in her victory over her- 
 self, and endeavouring to regain in solitude the tran- 
 quilhty w^hich she was surprised to find had utterly 
 forsaken her; and to convince herself that the dis- 
 order of her spirits, which, in spite of all her efforts, 
 filled her eyes w-ith tears, w^as owing to the agitating 
 expectation of seeing her long-lost sister. 
 
 The eastern extremity of the island, being shelter- 
 ed by the high ground on the west, was most favour- 
 able for horticultural experiments, and had there- 
 fore been planted with fruit-tiees and grapevines ; 
 here Hope had retired, and was flattering herself 
 she was secure from interruption and observation, 
 w^hen she w^as startled by a footstep, and perceived 
 Sir Philip Gardiner approaching. " I am fortunate 
 at last," he said ; " I have just been vainly seek- 
 ing you, where I most unluckily broke in upon 
 the lovers at a moment of supreme happiness, if I 
 may judge from the faces of both parties; but what 
 are you doing wdth that vine, Miss Leslie ?" he con- 
 tinued, for Hope had stooped over a grapevine, 
 which she seemed anxiously arranging. 
 
 " I am merely looking at it," she said ; " it seems 
 drooping."
 
 56 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Yes, and droop and die it must. I am amazed 
 that the wise people of your colony should hope to 
 rear the vine in this cold and steril land : a fit cli- 
 mate it is not for any delicate plant." 
 
 The knight's emphasis and look gave a particular 
 significance to his words; but Miss Leslie, deter- 
 mined to take them only in their literal sense, coldly 
 replied, " that it was not the part of wisdom to re- 
 linquish the attempt to cultivate so valuable a pro- 
 duction till a fair experiment had been made." 
 
 " Very true, Miss Leslie. The governor himself 
 could not have spoken it more sagely. Pardon me 
 for smiling ; I was thinking what an admirable il- 
 lustration of your remark your friend Miss Downing 
 afforded you. Who would have hoped to rear such 
 a hot-bed plant as love amid her frosts and ice? 
 Nay, look not so reproachfully. I admit there are 
 analogies in nature ; in my rambles in the Alpine 
 country, I have seen herbage and flowers fringing 
 the very borders of perpetual snows." 
 
 " Your analogy does not suit the case. Sir Philip," 
 replied Miss Leslie, coldly ; " but I marvel not at 
 your ignorance of my friend ; the waters gushed 
 from the rock only at the prophet's touch — " Hope 
 hesitated ; she felt that her rejoinder w^as too per- 
 sonal, and she added, in a tone of calmer defence, 
 "surely she who has shown herself capable of the 
 fervour of devotion and the tenderness of friendship, 
 may be susceptible of an inferior passion." 
 
 " Most certainly ; and your philosophy, fair rea- 
 soner, agrees with experience and poetry. An old
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 57 
 
 French lay well sets forth the harmony between the 
 passions ; thus it runs, I think 3" and he trilled the 
 following stanzas : 
 
 " * Et pour verite vous record 
 
 Dieu et amour sont d'un accord, 
 
 Dieu aime sens et honorance, 
 
 Amour ne I'a pas en viltance ; 
 
 Dieu halt orgueil et faussete, 
 
 Et Amour aime loyaute ; ^ . 
 
 Dieu aime honneur et courtoisie 
 
 Et bonne Amour ne hait-il mie ; 
 
 Dieu ecoute belle priere, 
 
 Amour ne la met pas arriere.' " 
 
 Sir Philip dropped on his knee, and, seizing Hope's 
 hand, repeated, 
 
 " * Dieu ecoute belle priere, 
 
 Amour ne le met pas en arriere.' " 
 
 At this moment, when Hope stood stock still from 
 surprise, confusion, and displeasure, Everell crossed 
 the walk. The colour mounted to his cheeks and 
 temples, he quickened his footsteps, and almost in- 
 stantly disappeared. This apparition, instead of 
 augmenting Miss Leslie's embarrassment, restored 
 all her powers. " Reserve your gallantries. Sir 
 Philip," she said, quietly withdrawing her hand, 
 " and your profane verses for some subject to whom 
 they are better suited ; if you have aught of the spirit 
 of a gentleman in you, you must feel that I have 
 neither invited the one nor provoked the other." 
 
 Sir Philip rose, mortified and disconcerted, and 
 suffered Miss Leslie to walk slowly away from him 
 without uttering a word to urge or defend his suit. 
 He would have been better pleased if he had exci-
 
 58 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ted more emotion of any sort ; he thought he had 
 never seen her, on any occasion, so cahn and indif- 
 ferent. He was piqued, as a man of gallantry, to 
 be thus contemptuously repelled ; and he was vexed 
 with himself that, by a false step, he had retarded, 
 perhaps endangered, the final success of his projects. 
 He had been too suddenly elated by the removal of 
 Jiis rival ; he deemed his path quite clear ; and, with 
 due allowance for natural presumption and self-love, 
 it was not perhaps strange that an accomplished man 
 of the world should, in Sir Philip's circumstances, 
 have counted sanguinely on success. 
 
 He remained pulling a rose to pieces, as a sort of 
 accompaniment to his vexed thoughts, when Mrs. 
 Grafton made an untimely appearance before him. 
 " Ah ha !" she said, picking up a bracelet Hope had 
 unconsciously dropped, " I see who has been here — 
 I thought so J but. Sir Philip, you look downcast." 
 Sir Philip, accustomed as he was to masquerade, 
 had not been able to veil his feelings even from the 
 good dame, whose perceptions were neither quick 
 nor keen ; but what was defective in them she made 
 up in abundant good-nature. " Now, Sir Philip," 
 she said, " there is nothing but the wind so change- 
 ful as a woman's mind ; that's what everybody says, 
 and there is both good and bad in it : for if the wind 
 is dead ahead, we may look for it to turn." 
 
 Sir Philip bowed his assent to the truism, and se- 
 cretly prayed that the good lady might be just in her 
 application of it. Mrs. Grafton continued : " Now, 
 what have you been doing with that rose, Sir Phil-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 69 
 
 ip ? one would think it had done you an ill turn, by 
 your picking it to pieces ; I hope you did not follow 
 Everell's fashion ; such a way of expressing one's 
 ideas should be left to boys." Sir Philip most heart- 
 ily wished that he had left his sentiments to be con- 
 veyed by so prudent and delicate an interpreter; 
 but, determined to give no aid to Mrs. Grafton's con- 
 jectures, he threw away the rose-stem, and, pluck- 
 ing another, presented it to her, saying that "he 
 hoped she would not extend her proscription of the 
 language of flowers so far as to prevent their ex- 
 pressing his regard for her." 
 
 The good lady courtesied, and said "how much Sir 
 Philip's ways did remind her of her dear deceased 
 husband." 
 
 The knight constrained himself to say " that he 
 was highly flattered by being thus honourably asso- 
 ciated in her thoughts." 
 
 " And you may well be. Sir Philip," she replied, 
 in the honesty of her heart, " for my poor dear Mr. 
 Grafton was called the most elegant man of his 
 time ; and the best of husbands he proved ; for, as 
 Shakspeare says, ' He never let the winds of heaven 
 visit me.' " She paused to wipe away a genuine 
 tear, and then continued : " It was not for such a man 
 to be disheartened because a woman seemed a little 
 offish at first. JVil desperandum was his motto ; and 
 he, poor dear man, had so many rivals ! Here, you 
 know, the case is quite different. If anybody were 
 to fall in love with anybody — I am only making a 
 supposition, Sir Philip — there is nobody here but
 
 60 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 these stiff- starched Puritans — a thousand pardons, 
 Sir Philip ; I forgot you was one of them. Indeed, 
 you seem so little like them that I am always forget- 
 ting it." 
 
 Sir Philip dared not trust Mrs. Grafton's discre- 
 tion so far as to cast off his disguises before her, but 
 he ventured to say that " some of his brethren were 
 over-zealous." 
 
 " Ay, ay, quite too zealous, aren't they 1 a kind 
 of mint, anise, and cummin Christians." 
 
 Sir Philip smiled : " He hoped not to err in that 
 particular ; he must confess a leaning of the heart to- 
 wards his old habits and feelings." 
 
 " Quite natural ; and I trust you will finally lean 
 so far as to fall into them again, all in good time ; 
 but, as I was saying, skittishness isn't a bad sign in 
 a young woman. It was a long, long time before I 
 gave poor dear Mr. Grafton the first token of favour ; 
 and what do you surmise that was, Sir Philip ? Now 
 just guess ; it was a trick of fancy really worth know- 
 ing." 
 
 Sir Philip was wearied beyond measure with the 
 old lady's garrulity ; but he said, with all the com- 
 plaisance he could assume, " That he could not 
 guess ; the ingenuity of a lady's favour baflSed con- 
 jecture." 
 
 " I thought you would not guess ; well, I'll tell 
 you. There's a little history to it, but, luckily, we've 
 plenty of time on hand. Well, to begin at the be- 
 ginning, you must know I had a fan — a French fan 
 I think it was 3 there were two Cupids painted on
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 61 
 
 it, and exactly in the middle, between them, a fig- 
 ure of Hope — I don't mean Hope Leslie," she con- 
 tinued, for she saw the knight's eye suddenly glan- 
 cing towards the head of the walk, past which Miss 
 Leslie was just walking, in earnest conversation with 
 Everell Fletcher. 
 
 Sir Philip felt the urgent necessity, at this juncture 
 of affairs, of preventing, if possible, a confidential 
 communication between Miss Leslie and Fletcher; 
 and his face expressed unequivocally that he was no 
 longer listening to Mrs. Grafton. 
 
 " Do you hear. Sir Philip ?' she continued ', " I 
 don't mean Hope Leslie.'^ 
 
 " So I understand, madam," replied the knight, 
 keeping his face towards her, but receding rapidly 
 in the direction Miss Leslie had passed, till, almost 
 beyond the sound of her voice, he laid his hand on 
 his heart, bowed, and disappeared. 
 
 " Well, that is peculiar of Sir Philip," muttered 
 the good lady ; then, suddenly turning to Cradock, 
 who appeared making his way through some snarl- 
 ed bushes, " What is the matter now. Master Cra- 
 dock 1" she asked. Cradock rephed by informing 
 her that the tide served for their return to town, and 
 that the governor had made it his particular request 
 that there might be no delay. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton's spirit was always refractor}^ to or- 
 ders from headquarters ; but she was too discreet or 
 too timid for any overt act of disobedience, and she 
 gave her arm to Cradock, and hastened to the ap* 
 pointed rendezvous. 
 
 Vol, IT.—F
 
 62 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 When Sir Philip had emerged from the walk, he 
 perceived the parties he pursued at no great dis- 
 tance from him, and was observed by Hope, who im- 
 mediately, and manifestly to avoid him, motioned to 
 Everell to take a path which diverged from that 
 which led to the boat, to which they were now all 
 summoned by a loud call from the boatmen. 
 
 We must leave the knight to digest his vexation, 
 and follow our heroine, whose face could now claim 
 nothing of the apathy that had mortified Sir Philip. 
 
 " You are, then, fixed in your determination to re- 
 main on the island to-night ]" demanded Fletcher. 
 
 " Unalterably." 
 
 " And is Digby also to have the honour of Sir 
 Philip's company V 
 
 " Everell !" exclaimed Hope, in a tone that indi- 
 cated surprise and wounded feehng. 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Leslie." 
 
 " Miss Leslie again ! Everell, you are unkind ; 
 you but this moment promised you would speak to 
 me as you were wont to do." 
 
 " I would, Hope : my heart has but one language 
 for you, but I dare not trust my lips. I may — T must 
 now speak to you as a brother ; and, before we part, 
 let me address a caution to you which that sacred, 
 and, thank God, permitted love, dictates. My own 
 destiny is fixed — fixed by your act, Hope ; Heaven 
 forgive me for saying so. It is done. For myself, 
 I can endure anything, but I could not live to see 
 you the prey of a hollow-hearted adventurer." The 
 truth flashed on Hope : she was beloved — she loved
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 63 
 
 again — and she had rashly dashed away the happi- 
 ness within her grasp. Her head became dizzy ; 
 she stopped, and, gathering her veil over her face, 
 leaned against a tree for support. Everell grievous- 
 ly misunderstood her agitation. 
 
 " Hope," he said, with a faltering voice, " I have 
 been slow to believe that you could thus throw away 
 your heart. I tried to shut my eyes against that 
 strange Saturday night's walk — that mysterious, un- 
 explained assignation with a stranger ; knowing, as 
 I did, that his addresses had received the governor's 
 full approbation — my father's, my poor father's re- 
 luctant assent, I still trusted that your pure heart 
 would have revolted from his flatteries. I believe 
 he is a heartless hypocrite. I would have told you 
 so, but I was too proud to have my warning attribu- 
 ted, even for a moment, to the meanness of a jealous 
 rival. I have been accused of seeking you from — " 
 interested motives he would have added, but it seem- 
 ed as if the words blistered his tongue ; and he con- 
 cluded, " It matters not now ; now I may speak 
 freely, without distrusting myself or being distrusted 
 by others. Hope, you have cast away my earthly 
 happiness ; trifle not with your own." 
 
 Hope perceived that events, conspiring with her 
 own thoughtless conduct, had riveted Everell's mis- 
 take ; but it was now irremediable. There was no 
 middle path between a passive submission to her 
 fate and a full and now useless explanation. She 
 was aware that plighted friendship and troth were 
 staked on the resolution of the moment 3 and when
 
 64 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Everell added, " Oh ! I have Jjeen convinced against 
 my will — against my hopes : what visions of possible 
 felicity have you dispersed; what dreams — " 
 
 " Dreams — dreams all," she exclaimed, interrupt- 
 ing him ; and, throwing back her veil, she discover- 
 ed her face drenched with tears. " Hark ! they call 
 you : let the past be forgotten ; and for the future — 
 the future, Everell — all possible felicity does await 
 you if you are true to yourself — true to — " her voice 
 faltered, but she articulated " Esther ;" and, turning 
 away, she escaped from his sight as she would have 
 rushed from the brink of a precipice. 
 
 " Oh !" thought Everell, as his eye and heart fol- 
 lowed her with the fervid feeling of love, " oh ! that 
 one who seems all angel should have so much of 
 woman's weakness !" While he lingered for a mo- 
 ment to subdue his emotion, and fit him to appear 
 before Esther and less interested observers. Sir Phil- 
 ip joined him, apparently returning from the boat. 
 " Your friends stay for you, sir," he said, and passed 
 on. 
 
 " Then he does remain with her," concluded Ev- 
 erell ; and the conviction was forced more strongly 
 than ever on his mind, that Hope had lent a favour- 
 able ear to Sir Philip's suit. " The illusion must be 
 transient," he thought ; " vanity cannot have a last- 
 ing triumph over the noble sentiments of her pure 
 heart." This was the language of his affection ; but 
 we must confess that the ardour of his confidence was 
 abated by Miss Leslie's apparently wide departure 
 from delicate reserve, in permitting (as he believed
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 65 
 
 she had) her professed admirer to remain on the isl- 
 and with her. 
 
 He now hastened to the boat, in the hope that he 
 should hear some explanation of this extraordinary- 
 arrangement ; but no such consolation awaited him. 
 On the contrary, he found it a subject of speculation 
 to the whole party. Faithful Cradock expressed 
 simple amazement. Mrs. Grafton was divided be- 
 tween her pleasure in the probable success of her 
 secret wishes, and her consciousness of the obvious 
 impropriety of her niece's conduct ; and her flurried 
 and half-articulated efforts at explanation only serv- 
 ed, like a feeble light, to make the darkness visible ; 
 and Esther's downcast and tearful eye intimated her 
 concern and mortification for her friend. 
 F 2
 
 66 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 « The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 
 When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
 For parting us— oh, and is all forgot?" 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 On quitting Everell, our heroine, quite unconscious 
 that she was the subject of painful suspicion or af- 
 fectionate anxiety, sought a sequestered spot, where 
 she might indulge and tranquillize her feelings. 
 
 It has been said that the love of a brother and 
 sister is the only platonic affection. This truth (if it 
 be a truth) is the conviction of an experience far 
 beyond our heroine's. She had seen in Esther the 
 pangs of repressed and unrequited love, and, mista- 
 king them for the characteristic emotions of that sen- 
 timent, it was no wonder that she perceived no affinity 
 to it in the joyous affection that had animated her own 
 soul. "After a Uttle while," she said, "I shall feel 
 as I did when w^e lived together in Bethel ; if all 
 that I love are happy, I must be happy too." If 
 the cold and selfish laugh to scorn what they think 
 the reasoning of ignorance and inexperience, it is 
 because they have never felt that to meditate the 
 happiness of others is to enter upon the ministry and 
 the joy of celestial spirits. Not one envious or repi- 
 ning thought intruded into the heaven of Hope Les- 
 lie's mind. Not one malignant spirit passed the 
 bounds of that paradise, that was filled with pure
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 67 
 
 and tender affections, with projects of goodness, and 
 all their cheerful train. 
 
 Hope was longer absorbed in her revery than 
 perhaps was quite consistent with her philosophy ; 
 and when she was roused from it by Digby's voice, 
 she blushed from the consciousness that her thoughts 
 had been too long withdrawn from the purpose of 
 her visit to the island. Digby came to say that his 
 wife's supper-table was awaiting Miss Leslie. Hope 
 embraced the opportunity, as they walked together 
 towards his dwelling, to make her arrangements for 
 the evening. " Digby," she said, " I have some- 
 thing to confide to you, but you must ask me no 
 questions." 
 
 " That's crossing human nature," replied the good 
 fellow ; " but I think I can swim against the current 
 for you. Miss Hope." 
 
 "Thank you, Digby. Then, in the first place, 
 you must know, I expect some friends to meet me 
 here this evening ; all that I ask of you is to permit 
 me to remain out unmolested as long as I may 
 choose. You may tell your wife that I like to stroll 
 in the garden by moonlight, or to sit and listen to 
 the waves breaking on the shore — as you know I 
 do, Digby." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Hope, I know your heart always 
 linked into such things ^ but it will be heathen 
 Greek to my w^ife — so you must make out a better 
 reason for her." 
 
 " Then tell her that I like to have my own way." 
 
 "Ah, that will I," replied Digby, chuckling;
 
 68 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " that is what every woman can understand. I al- 
 ways said, Miss Hope, it was a pure mercy you 
 chose the right way, for you always had yours." 
 
 "Perhaps you think, Digby, I have been too 
 headstrong in my own way." 
 
 " Oh, no ! my sweet mistress, no ; why, this hav- 
 ing our own Avay is what everybody likes ; it's the 
 privilege we came to this wilderness world for ; and 
 though the gentles up in town there, with the gov- 
 ernor at their head, hold a pretty tight rein, yet I 
 can tell them that there are many who think what 
 blunt Master Blackstone said, * That he came not 
 away from the Lord's-bishops to put himself under 
 the Lord's-brethren.' No, no, Miss Hope, I watch 
 the motions of the straws — I know which way the 
 wind blows. Thought and will are set free. It was 
 but the other day, so to speak — in the days of good 
 Queen Bess, as they called her — when, if her majes- 
 ty did but raise her hand, the Parliament folk were 
 all down on their knees to her ; and now, thank 
 God, the poorest and the lowest of us only kneel to 
 Him who made us. Times are changed — there is a 
 new spirit in the world — chains are broken — fetters 
 are knocked off — and the liberty set forth in the 
 blessed Word is now felt to be every man's birth- 
 right. But shame on my prating, that wags so fast 
 when I might hear your nightingale voice." 
 
 Hope's mind was preoccupied, and she found it 
 difficult to listen to Digby's speculations with inter- 
 est, or to respond with animation ; but she was too 
 benignant to lose herself in sullen abstraction j and,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 69 
 
 when they arrived at the cottage, she roused her 
 faculties to amuse the children, and to listen to the 
 mother's stories of their promising smartness. She 
 commended the good wife's milk and cakes, and sat 
 for half an hour after the table was removed, talking 
 of the past, and brightening the future prospects of 
 her good friends with predictions of their children's 
 prosperity and respectability : predictions which, 
 Digby afterward said, the dear young lady's bounty 
 brought to pass. 
 
 Suddenly she sprang from her chair : " Digby," 
 she exclaimed, " I think the east is lighting up with 
 the rising moon — is it not ?" 
 
 " If it is 'not, it soon will," replied Digby, under- 
 standing and favouring her purpose. 
 
 " Then," said Hope, " I will take a walk round 
 the island ; and do not you, Betsy, sit up for me." 
 Betsy, of course, remonstrated. The night air was 
 unwholesome ; and, though the sky overhead was 
 clear, yet she had heard distant thunder ; the beach- 
 birds had been in flocks on shore all the day ; and 
 the breakers on the east side of the island made a 
 boding sound. These and other signs were urged 
 as arguments against the unseasonable walk. Of 
 course they were unheeded by our heroine, who, de- 
 claring that, with shelter so near, she was in no dan- 
 ger, muffled herself in her cloak and sallied forth. 
 She bent her steps around the cliff which rises at the 
 western extremity of the island, leaving at its base 
 a few yards of flat, rocky shore, around which the 
 waters of the bay sweep, deeply indenting it, and
 
 70 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 forming a natural cove or harbour for small boats. 
 As Hope passed around a ledge of rocks, she fancied 
 she saw a shadow cast by a figure that seemed fly- 
 ing before her. " They are here already," she 
 thought, and hastened forward, expecting to catch a 
 glimpse of them as soon as she should turn the angle 
 of the rock ; but no figure appeared ; and though 
 Hope imagined she heard stones rattling, as if dis- 
 placed by hurried steps, she was soon convinced the 
 sound was accidental. Alive only to one expecta- 
 tion, she seated herself, without any apprehension, to 
 await in this solitude the coming of her sister. 
 
 The moon rose unclouded, and sent her broad 
 stream of light across the beautiful bay, kindling in 
 her beams the islands that gemmed it, and disclo- 
 sing, with a dim, indefinite hght, the distant town, 
 rising over this fair domain of sea and land : hills, 
 heights, jutting points, and islands then unknown to 
 fame, but now consecrated in domestic annals, and 
 illustrious in the patriot's story. 
 
 Whatever charms the scene might have presented 
 to our heroine's eye at another moment, she was now 
 only conscious of one emotion of feverish impatience. 
 She gazed and listened till her senses ached ; and 
 at last, when anticipation had nearly yielded to de- 
 spair, her ear caught the dash of oars, and at the 
 next moment a canoe glanced around the headland 
 into the cove : she darted to the brink of the water 
 — she gazed intently on the little bark ; her whole 
 soul was in that look. Her sister was there. At 
 this first assurance that she really beheld this loved,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 71 
 
 lost sister, Hope uttered a scream of joy ; but when, 
 at a second glance, she saw her in her savage attire, 
 fondly leaning on Oneco's shoulder, her heart died 
 within her ; a sickening feeling came over her — an 
 unthought of revolting of nature ; and, instead of 
 obeying the first impulse, and springing forward to 
 clasp her in her arms, she retreated to the cliff, lean- 
 ed her head against it, averted her eyes, and pressed 
 her hands on her heart, as if she would have bound 
 down her rebel feelings. 
 
 Magawisca's voice aroused her. " Hope Leslie," 
 she said, " take thy sister^s hand." 
 
 Hope stretched out her hand without lifting her 
 eyes ; but when she felt her sister's touch, the ener- 
 gies of nature awoke; she threw her arms around 
 her, folded her to her bosom, laid her cheek on hers, 
 and wept as if her heart would burst in every sob. 
 
 Mary (we use the appellative by which Hope had 
 known her sister) remained passive in her arms. 
 Her eye was moistened, but she seemed rather abash- 
 ed and confounded than excited; and when Hope 
 released her, she turned towards Oneco with a look 
 of simple wonder. Hope again threw her arm around 
 her sister, and intently explored her face for some 
 trace of those infantine features that were impressed 
 on her memory. " It is — it is my sister !" she ex- 
 claimed, and kissed her cheek again and again. 
 " Oh, Mary ! do you not remember when we sat to- 
 gether on mother's knee ? Do you not remember 
 when, with her own burning hand, the very day she 
 died, she put those chains on our necks ? Do you
 
 72 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 not remember when they held us up to kiss her cold 
 lips ?" Mary looked towards Magawisca for an ex- 
 planation of her sister's words. " Look at me, Mary ; 
 speak to me," continued Hope. 
 
 " No speak Yengees," replied Mary, exhausting 
 in this brief sentence all the English she could com- 
 mand. 
 
 Hope, in the impetuosity of her feelings, had for- 
 gotten that Magawisca had forew^arned her not to 
 indulge the expectation that her sister could speak 
 to her ; and the melancholy truth, announced by her 
 own lips, seemed to Hope to open a new and im- 
 passable gulf between them. She wrung her hands : 
 « Oh, what shall I do ? what shall I say ?" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Magav/isca now advanced to her, and said, in a 
 compassionate tone, " Let me be thy interpreter, 
 Hope Leslie, and be thou more calm. Dost thou 
 not see thy sister is to thee as the feather borne on 
 the torrent ?" 
 
 " I will be more calm, Magawisca ; but promise 
 me you will interpret truly for me." 
 
 A blush of offended pride overspread Magaw^isca's 
 cheek. " We hold truth to be the health of the 
 soul," she said : " thou mayst speak, maiden, with- 
 out fear that I wdll abate one of thy words." 
 
 " Oh, I fear nothing wrong from you, Magawisca ; 
 forgive me — forgive me — I know not what I say 
 or do." She drew her sister to a rock, and they sat 
 down together. Hope knew not how to address 
 one so near to her by nature, so far removed by habit
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 73 
 
 and education. She thought that if Mary's dress, 
 which was singularly and gaudily decorated, had a 
 less savage aspect, she might look more natural to 
 her 'j and she signed to her to remove the mantle 
 she wore, made of birds' feathers, woven together 
 wdth threads of the wild nettle. Mary threw it 
 aside, and disclosed her person, light and agile as 
 a fawn's, clothed with skins, neatly fitted to her waist 
 and arms, and ambitiously embellished with em- 
 broidery in porcupine's quills and beads. The re- 
 moval of the mantle, instead of the effect designed, 
 only served to make more striking the aboriginal pe- 
 culiarities; and Hope, shuddering and heart-sick, 
 made one more effort to disguise them by taking off 
 her silk cloak and wrapping it close around her sis- 
 ter. Mary seemed instantly to comprehend the lan- 
 guage of the action ; she shook her head, gently 
 disengaged herself from the cloak, and resumed her 
 mantle. An involuntary exclamation of triumph 
 burst from Oneco's lips. " Oh, tell her," said Hope 
 to ]\Iagawisca, " that I want once more to see her in 
 the dress of her own people — of her own family — 
 from whose arms she was torn to be dragged into 
 captivity." 
 
 A faint smile curled Magawisca's lip, but she in- 
 terpreted faithfully Hope's communication and Ma- 
 ry's reply : " ^ She does not hke the English dress,' 
 she says." 
 
 " Ask her," said Hope, " if she remembers the 
 day when the wild Indians sprung upon the family 
 at Bethel like wolves upon a fold of lambs ? If she 
 
 Vol. IL— G
 
 T4 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 remembers when Mrs. Fletcher and her innocent 
 little ones were murdered, and she stolen away ?" 
 
 " She says ' she remembers it well, for then it 
 was Oneco saved her life.' " 
 
 Hope groaned aloud. " Ask her," she continued, 
 with unabated eagerness, " if she remembers when 
 we played together, and read together, and knelt 
 together at our mother's feet ; when she told us of 
 the God that made us, and the Saviour that redeem- 
 ed us?" 
 
 " She remembers something of all this, but she 
 says ' it is faint and distant, like the vanishing va- 
 pour on the far-off mountain.' " 
 
 " Oh, tell her, Magawisca, if she will come home 
 and live with me, I will devote my life to her. I 
 will watch over her in sickness and health. I will 
 be mother — sister — friend to her : tell her that our 
 mother, now a saint in heaven, stoops from her hap- 
 py place to entreat her to return to our God and 
 our father's God." 
 
 Mary shook her head in a manner indicative of a 
 more determined feeling than she had before mani- 
 fested, and took from her bosom a crucifix, which 
 she fervently pressed to her lips. 
 
 Every motive Hope offered was powerless, every 
 mode of entreaty useless, and she leaned her head 
 despondently on Mary's shoulder. The contrast be- 
 tween the two faces thus brought together was most 
 striking. Hope's hat had slipped back, and her rich 
 brown tresses fell about her neck and face ; her full 
 eye was intently fixed on Mary, and her cheek
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 75 
 
 glowing with impassioned feeling, she looked like an 
 angel touched with some mortal misery ; while Ma- 
 ry's face, pale and spiritless, was only redeemed 
 from absolute vacancy by an expression of gentle- 
 ness and modesty. Hope's hand was lying on her 
 sister's lap, and a brilliant diamond ring caught 
 Mary's attention. Hope perceived this, and instant- 
 ly drew it from her own finger and placed it on 
 Mary's ; " and here is another — and another — and 
 another," she cried, making the same transfer of all 
 her rings. " Tell her, Magawisca, if she will come 
 home with me, she shall be decked with jewels from 
 head to foot ; she shall have feathers from the most 
 beautiful birds that wing the air, and flowers that 
 never fade : tell her that all I possess shall be hers." 
 
 " Shall I tell her so ?" asked Magawisca, with a 
 mingled expression of contempt and concern, as if 
 she herself despised the lure, but feared that Mary 
 might be caught by it ; for the pleased girl was 
 holding her hand before her, turning it, and gazing 
 with childlike dehght on the gems, as they caught 
 and reflected the moonbeams. " Shall I ask your 
 sister to barter truth and love — the jewels of the 
 soul, that grow brighter and brighter in the land of 
 spirits — for these poor perishing trifles 1 Oh, Hope 
 Leslie, I had better thoughts of thee." 
 
 " I cannot help it, Magawisca ; I am driven to 
 try every way to win back my sister : tell her, I en- 
 treat you, tell her what I have said." 
 
 Magawisca faithfully repeated all the motives 
 Hope had urged, while Hope herself clasped her sis-
 
 76 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ter's hand, and looked in her face with a mute sup- 
 plication more earnest than words could express. 
 Mary hesitated, and her eye turned quickly to Oneco, 
 to Magawisca, and then again rested on her sister. 
 Hope felt her hand tremble in hers ; Mary, for the 
 first time, bent towards her, and laid her cheek to 
 Hope's. Hope uttered a scream of delight : " Oh, 
 she does not refuse ; she will stay with me," she ex- 
 claimed. Mary understood the exclamation, and 
 suddenly recoiled, and hastily drew the rings from 
 her fingers. " Keep them — keep them," said Hope, 
 bursting into tears ; " if we must be cruelly parted 
 again, they will sometimes speak to you of me." 
 
 At this moment a bright light, as of burning flax, 
 flamed up from the cliff before them, threw a mo- 
 mentary flash over the water, and then disappeared. 
 Oneco rose : " I like not this light," he said ; " we 
 must be gone ; we have redeemed our promise ;" and 
 he took Hope's cloak from the ground, and gave it 
 to her as a signal that the moment of separation had 
 arrived. 
 
 " Oh, stay one moment longer," cried Hope. One- 
 co pointed to the heavens, over which black and 
 threatening clouds were rapidly gathering, and Mag- 
 awisca said, " Do not ask us to delay ; my father 
 has waited long enough." Hope now, for the first 
 time, observed there was an Indian in the canoe, 
 wrapped in skins, and listlessly awaiting, in a recum- 
 bent position, the termination of the scene. 
 
 " Is that Mononotto ?" she said, shuddering at the 
 thought of the bloody scenes with which he was as-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 77 
 
 sociated in her mind ; but, before her inquiry was 
 answered, the subject of it sprang to his feet, and 
 uttering an exclamation of surprise, stretched his 
 hand towards the town. All at once perceived the 
 object towards which he pointed. A bright strong 
 light streamed upward from the highest point of land, 
 and sent a ruddy glow over the bay. Every eye 
 turned inquiringly to Hope. "It is nothing," she 
 said to Magawisca, " but the light that is often kin- 
 dled on Beacon Hill to guide the ships into the har- 
 bour. The night is becoming dark, and some vessel 
 is expected in ; that is all, believe me." 
 
 "Whatever trust her visiters might have reposed in 
 Hope's good faith, they were evidently alarmed by 
 an appearance which they did not think sufficiently 
 accounted for ; and Oneco hearing, or imagining he 
 heard, approaching oars, said, in his own language, 
 to Magawisca, " We have no time to lose ; I will not 
 permit my white bird to remain any longer within 
 reach of the net." 
 
 Magawisca assented : " We must go," she said ; 
 " we must no longer hazard our father's life." One- 
 co sprang into the canoe, and called to Mary to fol- 
 low^ him. 
 
 " Oh, spare her one single moment !" said Hope, 
 imploringly, to INIagawisca ; and she drew her a few 
 paces from the shore, and knelt down with her, and, 
 in a half articulate prayer, expressed the tenderness 
 and sorrow^ of her soul, and committed her sister to 
 God. Mary understood her action, and feeling that 
 their separation was forever, nature for a moment as- 
 G 2
 
 78 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 serted her rights ; she returned Hope's embrace, and 
 wept on her bosom. 
 
 While the sisters were thus folded in one another's 
 arms, a loud yell burst from the savages ; Maga- 
 wisca caught Mary by the arms, and Hope, turning, 
 perceived that a boat filled with armed men had 
 passed the projecting point of land, and, borne in by 
 the tide, it instantly touched the beach, and in anoth- 
 er instant Magawisca and Mary were prisoners. 
 Hope saw the men were in the uniform of the gov- 
 ernor's guard. One moment before she w^ould have 
 given worlds to have had her sister in her power; 
 but now, the first impulse of her generous spirit was 
 an abhorrence of her seeming treachery to her friends. 
 " Oh ! Oneco," she cried, springing towards the ca- 
 noe, "I did not — indeed I did not know of it." 
 She had scarcely uttered the words, which fell from 
 her neither understood nor heeded, when Oneco 
 caught her in his arms, and shouting to Magawisca 
 to tell the English that, as they dealt by Mary, so 
 w^ould he deal by her sister, he gave the canoe the 
 first impulse, and it shot out like an arrow, distancing 
 and defying pursuit. 
 
 Oneco's coup-de-main seemed to petrify all present. 
 They were roused by Sir Philip Gardiner, who, com- 
 ing round the base of the cliff, appeared among 
 them ; and, learning the cause of their amazement, 
 he ordered them, with a burst of passionate excla- 
 mation, instantly to man the boat, and proceed with 
 him in pursuit. This one and all refused. " Day- 
 light and calm water," they said, " would be neces-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 79 
 
 sary to give any hope to such a pursuit, and the 
 storm was now gathering so fast as to render it dan- 
 gerous to venture out at all." 
 
 Sir Philip endeavoured to alarm them with threats 
 of the governor's displeasure, and to persuade them 
 with offers of high reward ; but they understood too 
 well the danger and hopelessness of the attempt to 
 risk it, and they remained inexorable. Sir Philip 
 then went in quest of Digby, and at the distance of a 
 few paces met him. Alarmed by the rapid approach 
 of the storm, he was seeking Miss Leslie j when he 
 learned her fate from Sir Philip's hurried communica- 
 tion, he uttered a cry of despair. " Oh ! I would go 
 after her," he said, " if I had but a cockle-shell ; but 
 it seems as if the foul fiends were at work : my boat 
 was this morning sent to town to be repaired. And 
 yet, what could we do ?" He added, shuddering, 
 " The wind is rising to that degree, that I think no 
 boat could live in the bay ; and it is getting as dark 
 as Egypt. God, save my precious young lady ! 
 God have mercy on her !" he continued. A sudden 
 burst of thunder heightened his alarm : " J\Jan can 
 do nothing for her. Why, in the name of Heaven," 
 he added, with a natural desire to appropriate the 
 blame of misfortune, " why must they be forever 
 meddling ; why not let the sisters meet and part in 
 peace V 
 
 " Oh, why not 1" thought Sir Philip, who wmld 
 have given his right hand to have retraced the steps 
 that had led to this most unlooked-for and unhappy 
 issue of the affair. They were now joined by the
 
 80 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 guard with their prisoners. Digby was requested to 
 lead them instantly to a shelter. He did so ; and, 
 agitated as he was with fear and despair for Miss 
 Leslie, he did not fail to greet Magawisca as one to 
 whom all honour was due. She heeded him not ; she 
 seemed scarcely conscious of the cries of Faith Les- 
 lie, who was weeping hke a child, and clinging to 
 her. The treachery that had betrayed her rapt 
 her soul in indignation, and nothing roused her but 
 the blasts of wind and flashes of lightning, that 
 seemed to her the death-knell of her father. 
 
 The storm continued for the space of an hour, and 
 then died away as suddenly as it had gathered. Li 
 another hour the guard had safely landed at the 
 wharf, and were conveying their prisoners to the 
 governor. He and his confidential counsellors, who 
 had been awaiting at his house the return of their 
 emissaries, solaced themselves with the behef that 
 all parties were safely sheltered on the island, and 
 probably would remain there during the night. 
 While they were whispering this conclusion to one 
 another at one extremity of the parlour, Everell sat 
 beside Miss Downing in the recess of a window that 
 overlooked the garden. The huge projecting chim- 
 ney formed a convenient screen for the lovers. The 
 evening was warm, the window-sash thrown up. 
 The moon had come forth, and shed a mild lustre 
 through the dewy atmosphere ; the very light that the 
 young and sentimental, and, above all, young and 
 sentimental lovers, most delight in. But in vain 
 did Everell look abroad for inspiration -, in vain did
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 81 
 
 he turn his eyes to Esther's face, now more beautiful 
 than ever, flushed as it was with the first dawn of 
 happiness; in vain did he try to recall his truant 
 thoughts, to answer words to her timid but bright 
 glances; he would not, he could not say what he 
 did not feel, and the few sentences he , uttered fell 
 on his own ear like cold abstractions. While he 
 was in this durance, his father was listening — if a 
 man stretched on a rack can be said to listen — to 
 Madam Winthrop's whispered and reiterated assu- 
 rances of her entire approbation of her niece's choice. 
 
 This was the position of all parties, when a bustle 
 was heard in the court, and the guard entered. The 
 foremost advanced to the governor, and communica- 
 ted a few sentences in a low tone. The governor 
 manifested unusual emotion, turned round sudden- 
 ly, and exclaimed, " Here, Mr. Fletcher — Everell ;" 
 and then motioning to them to keep their places, he 
 said, in an under voice, to those near to him, " We 
 must first dispose of our prisoner : come forward, 
 Magawisca." 
 
 " Magawisca !" echoed Everell, springing at one 
 bound into the hall. But Magawisca shrunk back 
 and averted her face. " Now God be praised !" he 
 exclaimed, as he caught the first glance of a form 
 never to be forgotten ; " it is — it is Magawisca !" 
 She did not speak, but drew away, and leaned her 
 head against the wall. " What means this ?" he 
 said, now for the first time espying Faith Leslie, and 
 then looking round on the guard ; " what means it, 
 sir ?" he demanded, turning somewhat imperiously 
 to the governor.
 
 82 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " It means, sir," replied the governor, coldly, 
 " that this Indian woman is the prisoner of the Com- 
 monwealth." 
 
 " It means that I am a prisoner, lured to the net, 
 and betrayed." 
 
 " You a prisoner — here, Magawisca !" Everell ex- 
 claimed. " Impossible ! Justice, gratitude, humanity 
 forbid it. My father— Governor Winthrop, you will 
 not surely suffer this outrage ]" 
 
 The elder Fletcher had advanced, and, scarcely 
 less perplexed and agitated than his son, was en- 
 deavouring to draw forth Faith Leslie, who had 
 shrunk behind Magawisca. Governor Winthrop 
 seemed not at all pleased with Everell's interference. 
 " You will do well, young Mr. Fletcher, to bridle 
 your zeal ; private feelings must yield to the public 
 good : this young woman is suspected of being an 
 active agent in brewing the conspiracy forming 
 against us among the Indian tribes ; and it is some- 
 what bold in you to oppose the course of justice — to 
 intermeddle with the public welfare — to lift your 
 feeble judgment against the wisdom of Providence, 
 which has led, by peculiar means, to the apprehen- 
 sion of the enemy. Conduct your prisoner to the 
 jail," he added, turning to the guard, " and bid Bar- 
 naby have her in close and safe keeping till farther 
 orders." 
 
 " For the love of God, sir," cried Everell, " do not 
 this injustice. At least suffer her to remain in your 
 own house, on her promise — more secure than the 
 "walls of a prison." Governor Winthrop only replied 
 by signing to the guards to proceed to their duty.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 83 
 
 " Stay one moment," exclaimed Everell ; " per- 
 mit her, Ll)eseech you, to remain here ; place her in 
 any one of^our apartments, and I will remain before 
 it, a faithful warder, night and day. But do not — 
 do not, I beseech you — sully your honour by commit- 
 ting this noble creature to your jail." 
 
 " Listen to my son, I entreat you," said the elder 
 Fletcher, unable any longer to restrain his own feel- 
 ings ; " certainly we owe much to this w^oman." 
 
 " You owe much, undoubtedly," replied the gov- 
 ernor ; " but it yet remains to be proved, my friend, 
 that your son's redeemed life is to be put in the bal- 
 ance against the public weal." 
 
 Esther, who had observed the scene with an in- 
 tense interest, now overcame her timidity so far as 
 to penetrate the circle that surrounded the governor, 
 and to attempt to enforce Everell's prayer. " May 
 not Magawisca," she said, " share our apartment — 
 Hope's and mine 1 She will then, in safe custody, 
 await your farther pleasure." 
 
 " Thanks, Esther — thanks," cried Everell, with an 
 animation that would have rewarded a far more dif- 
 ficult effort : but all efforts were unavailing, but not 
 useless; for Magawisca said to Everell, "You have 
 sent light into my darkened soul — you have truth 
 and gratitude ; and for the rest, they are but what I 
 deemed them. Send me," she continued, proudly 
 turning to the governor," to your dungeon ; all pla- 
 ces are alike to me w'hile I am your prisoner ; but, for 
 the sake of Everell Fletcher, let me tell you, that she 
 who is dearer to him than his own soul, if, indeed,
 
 84 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 she has lived out the perils of this night, must answer 
 for my safe keeping.'' 
 
 " Hope Leslie !" exclaimed Everell ; " what has 
 happened ? What do you mean, Magawisca ?" 
 
 " She was the decoy bird," replied Magawisca, 
 calmly ; " and she, too, is caught in the net." 
 
 "Explain, I beseech you!" The governor an- 
 swered EverelPs appeal by a brief explanation. A 
 bustle ensued : every other feeling was now lost in 
 concern for Hope Leslie -, and Magawisca was sep- 
 arated from her weeping and frightened companion, 
 and conducted away without farther opposition ; 
 while the two Fletchers, as if life and death hung 
 on every instant, were calling on the governor to 
 aid them in the way and means of pursuit.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " But oh ! that hapless virgin, our lost sister, 
 Where may she wander now, whither betake her ?" 
 
 COMUS. 
 
 Hope Leslie, on being forced into the canoe, sunk 
 down, overpowered with terror and despair. She 
 was roused from this state by Oneco's loud and ve- 
 hement appeals to his father, who only replied by a 
 low, inarticulate murmur, which seemed rather an 
 involuntary emission of his own feelings than a re- 
 sponse to Oneco. She understood nothing but the 
 name of Magawisca, which he often repeated, and 
 always with a burst of vindictive feeling, as if every 
 other emotion were lost in wrath at the treachery that 
 had wrested her from him. As the apparent contri- 
 ver and active agent in this plot, Hope felt that she 
 must be the object of detestation and the victim of 
 vengeance, and all that she had heard or imagined of 
 Indian cruelties was present to her imagination ; and 
 eveiy savage passion seemed to her to be imbodied in 
 the figure of the old chief, when she saw his con- 
 vulsed frame and features, illuminated by the fearful 
 lightning that flashed athwart him. " It is possible," 
 she thought, " that Oneco may understand me ;" and 
 to him she protested her innocence, and vehemently 
 besought his compassion. Oneco was not of a cruel 
 nature, nor was he disposed to inflict unnecessary 
 
 Vol. II.— H
 
 80 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 suffering on the sister of his wife ; but he was deter- 
 mined to retain so vahiable a hostage, and his heart 
 was steeled against her by his conviction that she 
 had been a party to the wrong done him ; he there- 
 fore turned a deaf ear to her entreaties, which her 
 supplicating voice and gestures rendered intelligible, 
 though he had nearly forgotten her language. He 
 made no reply by word or sign, but continued to 
 urge on his little bark with all his might, redoub- 
 ling his vigorous strokes as the fury of the storm in- 
 creased. 
 
 Hope cast a despairing eye on her receding home, 
 which she could still mark through the murky atmo- 
 sphere by the lurid flame that blazed on Beacon 
 Hill. Friends were on every side of her, and yet 
 no human help could reach her. She saw the faint 
 light that gleamed from Digby's cottage window, 
 and, on the other hand, the dim ray that, struggling 
 through the misty atmosphere, proceeded from the 
 watch-tower on Castle Island. Between these lights 
 from opposite islands, she was passing down the 
 channel, and she inferred that Oneco's design was to 
 escape out of the harbour. But Heaven seemed de- 
 termined to frustrate his purpose, and to show her 
 how idle were all human hopes and fears, how vain 
 " to cast the fashion of uncertain evils." 
 
 The wind rose, and the darkness deepened at 
 every moment, the occasional flashes of lightning 
 only serving to make it more intense. Oneco tasked 
 his skill to the utmost to guide the canoe ; he strain- 
 ed every nerve, till, exhausted by useless eflforts, he
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 87 
 
 dropped his oars, and awaited his resistless fate. 
 The sublime powers of nature had no terrors for 
 Mononotto. There was something awe-striking in 
 the fixed, unyielding attitude of the old man, who 
 sat as if he were carved in stone, while the blasts 
 swept by him, and the lightnings played over him. 
 There are few who have not, at some period of their 
 lives, lost their consciousness of individuality — their 
 sense of this shrinking, tremulous, sensitive being, in 
 the dread magnificence, the " holy mystery'^ of na- 
 ture. 
 
 Hope, even in her present extremity, forgot her 
 fear and danger in the sublimity of the storm. When 
 the wild flashes wrapped the bay in light, and re- 
 vealed to sight the little bark leaping over the 
 " yesty waves," the stern figure of the old man, the 
 graceful form of Oneco, and Hope Leslie, her eye 
 upraised with an instinctive exaltation of feeling, 
 she mio'ht have been taken for some briorht vision 
 from another sphere, sent to conduct her dark com- 
 panions through the last tempestuous passage of life. 
 But the triumphs of her spirit were transient ; mortal 
 danger pressed on life. A thunderbolt burst over 
 their heads. Hope was, for a moment, stunned. The 
 next flash showed the old man struck down sense- 
 less. Oneco shrieked, raised the lifeless body in his 
 arms, laid his ear to the still bosom, and chafed the 
 breast and limbs. While he w^as thus striving to 
 bring back life, the storm abated ; the moonbeams 
 struggled through the parting clouds, and the canoe, 
 driven at the mercy of the wind and tide, neared a
 
 88 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 little island, and drifted on the beach. Oneco leap- 
 ed out, dragged his father's lifeless body to the turf, 
 and renewed and redoubled his efforts to restore 
 him ; and Hope, moved by an involuntary sympathy 
 with the distress of his child, stooped down and 
 chafed the old man's palms. Either from despair, 
 or an impulse of awakened hope, Oneco suddenly 
 uttered an exclamation, stretched himself on the 
 body, and locked his arms around it. Hope rose to 
 her feet, and, seeing Mononotto unconscious, and 
 Oneco entirely absorbed in his own painful anxieties 
 and efforts, the thought occurred to her that she 
 might escape from her captors. 
 
 She looked at the little bark : her strength, small 
 as it was, might avail to launch it again ; and she 
 might trust the same Providence that had just deliv- 
 ered her from peril, to guide her in safety over the 
 still turbulent waters. But a danger just escaped is 
 more fearful than one untried ; and she shrunk from 
 adventuring alone on the powerful element. The 
 island might be inhabited. If she could gain a few 
 moments before she was missed by Oneco, it was 
 possible she might find protection and safety. She 
 did not stop to deliberate ; but, casting one glance 
 at the brightening heavens, and ejaculating a prayer 
 for aid, and ascertaining by one look at Oneco that 
 he did not observe her, she bounded away. She 
 fancied she heard steps pursuing her ; but she press- 
 ed on, without once looking back or faltering, till 
 she reached a slight elevation, whence she perceived, 
 at no great distance from her, a light placed on the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 89 
 
 ground, and, on approaching a little nearer, saw 
 a man lying beside it, and, at a few paces from 
 him, several others stretched on the grass, and, as 
 she thought, sleeping. She now advanced cautious- 
 ly and timidly till she was near enough to conclude 
 that they were a company of sailors, who had been 
 indulging in a lawless revel. Such, in truth, they 
 were ; the crew belonging to the vessel of the noto- 
 rious Chaddock. The disorders of both master and 
 men had given such offence to the sober citizens of 
 Boston, that they had been prohibited from entering 
 the town ; and the men having been, on this occa- 
 sion, allowed by their captain to indulge in a revel 
 on land, they had betaken themselves to an uninhab- 
 ited island, where they might give the reins to their 
 excesses without dread of restraint or penalty. As 
 they now appeared to the eye of our heroine, they 
 formed a group from which a painter might have 
 sketched the orgies of Bacchus. 
 
 Fragments of a coarse feast were strewn about 
 them, and the ground was covered with wrecks of 
 jugs, bottles, and mugs. Some of them had throw^n 
 off their coats and neckcloths in the heat of the day, 
 and had lain with their throats and bosoms bared to 
 the storm, of which they had been unconscious. 
 Others, probably less inebriated, had been disturbed 
 by the vivid flashes of lightning, and had turned 
 their faces to the earth. While Hope shuddered at 
 the sight of these brutalized wretches, and thought 
 any fate would be better than 
 H 2
 
 90 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ** To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence 
 Of such late v.'dssailers," 
 
 one of them awoke and looked up at her. He had 
 but imperfectly recovered his senses, and he per- 
 ceived her but faintly and indistinctly, as one sees an 
 object through mist. Hope stood near him, but she 
 stood perfectly still ; for she knev^, from his imbecile 
 smile and half-articulated words, that she had no- 
 thing to fear. He laid his hand on the border of 
 her cloak, and muttered, " St. George's colours — 
 Dutch flag — no, d — n me, Hanse, I say — St. 
 George's — St. George's — nail them to the masthead 
 — I say, Hanse, St. George's — St. George's — " and 
 then his words died away on his tongue, and he 
 laughed in his throat as one laughs in his sleep. 
 
 While Hope hesitated for an instant whether 
 again to expose herself to the thraldom from which 
 she had with such joy escaped, one of the other men, 
 either aroused by his companion's voice, or having 
 outslept the fumes of the liquor, started up, and, on 
 perceiving her, rubbed his eyes, and stared as if he 
 doubted whether she were a vision or a reality. 
 Hope's first impulse was to fly ; but, though con- 
 fused and alarmed, she was aware that escape would 
 be impossible if he chose to pursue, and that her 
 only alternative was to solicit his compassion. 
 
 " Friend," she said, in a fearful, tremulous voice, 
 " I come to beg your aid." 
 
 " By the Lord Harry, she speaks !" exclaimed the 
 fellow, interrupting her j " she is a woman : wake, 
 boys, wake !"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 91 
 
 The men were now roused from their slumbers: 
 some rose to their feet, and all stared stupidly, not 
 one, save him first awakened, having the perfect 
 command of his senses. " If ye have the soul of a 
 man," said Hope, imploringly, " protect me — convey 
 me to Boston. Any reward that you will ask or 
 take shall be given to you." 
 
 " There's no reward could pay for you, honey," 
 replied the fellow, advancing towards her. 
 
 " In the name of God, hear me !" she cried ; but 
 the man continued to approach, with a horrid leer 
 on his face. " Then save me, Heaven !" she scream- 
 ed, and rushed towards the w^ater. The wretch was 
 daunted ; he paused but for an instant, then calhng 
 on his comrades to join him, they all, hooting and 
 shouting, pursued her. 
 
 Hope now felt that death was her only deliver- 
 ance ; if she could but reach the waves that she 
 saw heaving and breaking on the shore — if she could 
 but bury herself beneath them ! But, though she 
 flew as if she were borne on the wings of the wind, 
 her pursuers gained on her. The foremost was so 
 near that she expected at every breath his hand 
 would grasp her, when his foot stumbled, and he fell 
 headlong, and as he fell he snatched her cloak. By 
 a desperate effort she extricated herself from his hold, 
 and again darted forward. She heard him vocif- 
 erate curses, and understood he was unable to rise. 
 She cast one fearful glance behind her : she had 
 gained on the horrid crew. " Oh I I may escape 
 them," she thought 3 and she pressed on with as
 
 92 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 much eagerness to cast away life as ever was felt to 
 save it. As she drew near the water's edge, she 
 perceived a boat attached to an upright post that had 
 been driven into the earth at the extremity of a nar- 
 row stone pier. A thought like inspiration flashed 
 into her mind ; she ran to the end of the pier, leaped 
 into the boat, uncoiled the rope that attached it to 
 the post, and, seizing an oar, pushed it off. There 
 was a strong tide j and the boat, as if instinct with 
 life, and obedient to her necessities, floated rapidly 
 from the shore. Her pursuers had now reached the 
 water's edge, and, finding themselves foiled, some 
 vented their spite in jeers and hoarse laughs, and 
 others in loud and bitter curses. Hope felt that 
 Heaven had interposed for her; and, sinking on her 
 knees, she clasped her hands, and breathed forth her 
 soul in fervent thanksgivings. While she was thus 
 absorbed, a man who had been lying in the bottom 
 of the boat unobserved by her, and covered by vari- 
 ous outer garments, which he had so disposed as to 
 shelter himself from the storm, lifted up his head, and 
 looked at her with mute amazement. He was an 
 Italian, and belonged to the same ship's company 
 with the revellers on the shore ; but, not inclining to 
 their excesses, and thinking, on the approach of the 
 storm, that some judgment was about to overtake 
 them, he had returned to the boat, and sheltered 
 himself there as well as he was able. When the 
 tempest abated he had fallen asleep, his imagination 
 probably in an excited state ; and, on awaking, and 
 seeing Hope in an attitude of devotion, he very nat-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 93 
 
 urally mistook her for a celestial visitant. In truth, 
 she scarcely looked like a being of this earth : her 
 hat and gloves were gone ; her hair fell in graceful 
 disorder about her neck and shoulders, and her white 
 dress and blue silk mantle had a saintlike simpli- 
 city. The agitating chances of the evening had 
 scarcely left the hue of life on her cheek, and her 
 deep sense of the presence and favour of Heaven 
 heightened her natural beauty with a touch of reli- 
 gious inspiration. 
 
 " Hail, blessed Virgin Mary !" cried the Catholic 
 Italian, bending low before her, and crossing him- 
 self; " Queen of Heaven ! Gate of Paradise f and 
 Lady of the World ! O most clement, most pious, 
 and most sweet Virgin Maiy ! bless thy sinful ser- 
 vant." He spoke in his native tongue, of which Hope 
 fortunately knew enough to comprehend him, and to 
 frame a phrase in return. The earnestness of his 
 countenance was a sure pledge of his sincerity, and 
 Hope was half inclined to turn his superstition to her 
 advantage ; but his devotion approached so near to 
 W'Orship that she dared not ; and she said, with the 
 intention of dissipating his illusion, " I am not, my 
 friend, what you imagine me to be." 
 
 " Thou art not — thou art not — holy Queen of Vir- 
 gins and of all heavenly citizens : then, most gra- 
 cious lady, which of all the martyrs and saints of our 
 holy Church art thou 1 Santa Catharina of Siena, 
 the blessed bride of a holy marriage ?" Hope shook 
 her head. " Santa Helena, then, in whose church 
 I was first signed with holy water ? Nay, thou art
 
 94 HOrE LESLIE. 
 
 not ? then art thou Santa Bibiana ? or Santa Rosa ? 
 Thy beauteous hair is Hii:e that sacred lock over the 
 altar of Santa Croce." 
 
 " I am not any of these," said Hope, with a smile, 
 which the Catholic's pious zeal extorted from her. 
 
 " Thou smilest !" he cried, exultingly : " thou art, 
 then, my own peculiar saint, the blessed Lady Petro- 
 nilla. O holy martyr ! spotless mirror of purity !" and 
 again he knelt at her feet and crossed himself. " My 
 life ! my sweetness ! and my hope I to thee do I cry, a 
 poor banished son of Eve : what wouldst thou have 
 thy dedicated servant, Antonio Batista, to do, that 
 thou hast, O glorious lady ! followed him from our 
 own sweet Italy to this land of heathen savages and 
 heretic English ?" 
 
 This invocation was long enough to allow our he- 
 roine time to make up her mind as to the course she 
 should pursue with her votary. She had recoiled 
 from the impiety of appropriating his address to the 
 Holy Mother; but, Protestant as she was, she un- 
 hesitatingly identified herself with a Catholic saint. 
 " Good Antonio," she said, " I am well pleased to 
 find thee faithful, as thou hast proved thyself by 
 withdrawing from thy vile comrades. To take part 
 in their excesses would but endanger thine eternal 
 welfare : bear this in mind. Now, honest Antonio, 
 I will put honour on thee; thou shalt do me good 
 service. Take those oars, and ply them well till we 
 reach yon town, where I have an errand that must 
 be done." 
 
 *^ most blessed lady ! sacred martyr, and sister
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 95 
 
 of mercy ! who, entering into the heavenly palace, 
 didst fill the holy angels with joy, and men with hope, 
 I obey thee," he said ; and then, taking from his 
 bosom a small ivory box, in which, on opening it, 
 there appeared to be a shred of linen cloth, he add- 
 ed, " but first, most gracious lady, vouchsafe to bless 
 this holy relic, taken from the linen in which thy 
 body was enfolded, when, after it had lain a thousand 
 years in the grave, it was raised therefrom fresh and 
 beautiful, as it now appeareth to me." 
 
 Our saint could not forbear a smile at this star- 
 tling fact in her history ; but she prudently took the 
 box, and, unclasping a bracelet from her arm, which 
 was fastened by a small diamond cross, she added it 
 to the relic, whose value, though less obvious, could 
 not be exceeded in Antonio's estimation. " I give 
 thee this," she said, " Antonio, for thy spiritual and 
 temporal necessities ; and, shouldst thou ever be in 
 extreme need, I permit thee to give it into the hand 
 of some cunning artificer, who will extract the dia- 
 monds for thee without marring the form of the 
 blessed cross." Antonio received the box as if it 
 contained the freedom of Paradise ; and, replacing it 
 in his bosom, he crossed himself again and again, 
 repeating his invocations till his saint, apprehensive 
 that, in his ecstasy, he would lose all remembrance 
 of the high oflfice for which she had selected him, 
 gently reminded him that it was the duty of the 
 faithful to pass promptly from devotion to obedience ; 
 on this hint he rose, took up the oars, and exercised 
 his strength and skill with^such exemplary fidelity,
 
 96 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 that in less than two hours his boat touched the 
 pier which Hope designated as the point where she 
 would disembark. 
 
 Before she parted from her votary, she said, " I 
 give thee my blessings and my thanks, Antonio; 
 and I enjoin thee to say naught to thy wicked com- 
 rades of my visitation to thee ; they would but jeer 
 thee, and wound thy spirit by making thy lady their 
 profane jest. Reserve the tale, Antonio, for the ears 
 of the faithful, who marvel not at miracles." 
 
 Antonio bowed in token of obedience, and, as 
 long as Hope saw him, he remained in an attitude 
 of profound homage. 
 
 Our heroine's elastic spirit, ever ready to rise 
 when pressure was removed, had enabled her to 
 sustain her extempore cl^aracter with some anima- 
 tion ; but, as soon as she had parted from Antonio, 
 and was no longer stimulated to exertion by the fear 
 that his illusion might be prematurely dissipated, she 
 felt that her strength had been overtaxed by the 
 strange accidents and various perils of the evening. 
 Her garments were wet and heavy, and at every 
 step she feared another would be impossible. Her 
 head became giddy, and faintness and weariness, to 
 her new and strange sensations, seemed to drag her 
 to the earth. She looked and listened in vain for 
 some being to call to her assistance : the streets 
 were empty and silent ; and, unable to proceed, she 
 sunk down on the steps of a warehouse, shut her 
 eyes, and laid down her head to still its throbbings. 
 
 She had not remained thus many minutes, when
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 97 
 
 she was startled by a voice saying, " Ha ! lady, dost 
 thou too wander aione 1 Is thy cheek pale — thy head 
 sick — thy heart fluttering 1 Yet thou art not guilty 
 nor forsaken !" 
 
 Hope looked up, and perceived she was address- 
 ed by Sir Philip Gardiner's page. She had repeat- 
 edly seen him since their first meeting ; but, occu- 
 pied as she had been with objects of intense interest 
 to her, she thought not of their first singular inter- 
 view, excepting when it was recalled by the sup- 
 posed boy's keen, and, as she fancied, angry glan- 
 ces. They seemed involuntary ; for when his eye 
 met hers, he withdrew it, and his cheek was dyed 
 with blushes. There was now a thrilling melancholy 
 in his tone ; his eye was dim and sunken ; and his 
 apparel, usually elaborate, and somewhat fantastical, 
 had a neglected air. His vest was open ) his lace 
 ruff, which was ordinarily arranged with a care that 
 betrayed his consciousness how much it graced his 
 fair, delicate throat, had nov/ been forgotten, and 
 the feathers of his little Spanish hat dangled over 
 his face. 
 
 Hope Leslie was in no condition to note these 
 particulars; but she was struck with his haggard 
 and v/retched appearance, and was alarmed when 
 she saw him lay his hand on the hilt of a dagger 
 that gleamed from beneath the folds of his vest. 
 
 " Do not shrink, lady," he said ; " the pure should 
 not fear death, and I am sure the guilty need not 
 dread it : there is nothing worse for them than they 
 may feel walking on the fair earth, with the lights 
 
 Vol. II.~I
 
 98 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 of Heaven shining on them. I had this dagger of 
 my master, and I think," he added, with a convul- 
 sive sob, " he would not be sorry if I used it to rid 
 him of his troublesome page." 
 
 " Why do you not leave your master, if he is of 
 this fiendish disposition towards you ?" asked Hope : 
 " leave him, and return to your friends." 
 
 " Friends ! friends !" he exclaimed -, " the rich — 
 the good — the happy — those born in honour have 
 friends. I have not a friend in the wide world." 
 
 "Poor soul!" said Hope, losing every other 
 thought in compassion for the poor boy ; and some 
 notion of his real character and relation to Sir Phil- 
 ip darting into her mind, " Then leave this wretched 
 man, and trust thyself to Heaven." 
 " I am forsaken of Heaven, lady." 
 " That cannot be. God never forsakes his crea- 
 tures : the miserable, the guilty, from whom every 
 face is turned away, may still go to him, and find 
 forgiveness and peace. His compassions never fail." 
 "Yes; but the guilty must forsake their sinful 
 thoughts, and I cannot. My heart is steeped in 
 this guilty love. If my master but looks kindly on 
 me, or speaks one gentle w^ord to me, I again cling 
 to my chains and fetters." 
 
 " Oh, this is indeed foolish and sinful -, how can 
 you love him whom you confess to be so unworthy V 
 " We must love something," replied the boy, in a 
 faint voice, his head sinking on his bosom. "My 
 master did love me, and nobody else ever loved me. 
 I never knew a mother's smile, lady, nor felt her
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 99 
 
 tears. I never heard a father's voice; and do you 
 think it so very strange that I should ding to him 
 who was the first, the only one that ever loved me 1" 
 He paused for a moment, and looked eagerly on 
 Hope, as if for some word of encouragement ; but 
 she made no reply, and he burst into a passionate 
 flood of tears, and wrung his hands, saying, " Oh, 
 yes, it is — I know^ it is foolish and sinful, and I try to 
 be penitent. I say my paternosters," he added, ta- 
 king a rosary from his bosom, " and my ave-maries^ 
 but I get no heart's ease; and by times my head 
 is wild, and I have horrid thoughts. I have hated 
 you, lady — you, who look so like an angel of pity 
 on me ; and this very day, when I saw Sir Philip 
 hand you into the boat, and saw you sail away with 
 him over the bright water so gay and laughing, I 
 could have plunged this dagger into your bosom; 
 and I made a solemn vow that you should not live 
 to take the place of honour beside my master, while 
 I was cast away a worthless being." 
 
 " These are indeed useless vows and idle thoughts," 
 said Hope. " I cannot longer listen to you now, 
 for I am very sick and weary ; but do not grieve 
 thus ; come to me to-morrow, and tell me all your 
 sorrows, and be guided by me." 
 
 " Oh, not to-morrow !" exclaimed the boy, grasp- 
 ing her gown as she rose to depart ; " not to-morrow ; 
 I hate the light of day ; I cannot go to that great 
 house ; I have no longer courage to meet the looks 
 of the happy, and answer their idle questions ; stay 
 now, lady, for the love of Heaven ! my story is 
 short."
 
 100 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope had no longer the power of deliberation ; 
 ^e did not even hear the last entreaty. At the first 
 movement she made, the sensation of giddiness re- 
 turned, every object seemed to swim before her, and 
 she sunk, fainting, into Roslin's arms. The page had 
 now an opportunity to gratify his vindictive passions, 
 if he had any ; but his mad jealousy was a transient 
 excitement of disordered passion, and soon gave way 
 to the spontaneous emotions of a gentle and tender 
 nature. He carefully sustained his burden, and 
 while he pressed his lips to Hope's cold brow, with 
 an undefinable sensation of joy that he might thus 
 approach angelic purity, he listened eagerly to the 
 sound of footsteps, and, as they came nearer, he 
 recognised the two Fletchers, with a company of 
 gentlemen, guards, and sailors, whom, with the gov- 
 ernor's assistance, they had hastily collected to go in 
 pursuit of our heroine. 
 
 Everell was the first to perceive her. He sprang 
 towards her, and when he saw her colourless face 
 and lifeless body, he uttered an exclamation of hor- 
 ror. All now gathered about her, listening eagerly 
 to Roslin's assurance that she had just fainted, com- 
 plaining of sickness and extreme weariness. He, as 
 our readers well know^, could give no farther expla- 
 nation of the state in which Miss LesUe was found ; 
 indeed, her friends scarcely waited for any. Everell 
 wrapped her in his cloak, and, assisted by his father, 
 carried her in his arms to the nearest habitation, 
 whence she was conveyed, as soon as a carriage could 
 be obtained, to Governor Winthrop's.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 101 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " He that questions whether God made the world, the Indian will 
 teach him. I must acknowledge I have received, in my converse 
 with them, many confirmations of those two great points : first, that 
 ' God is ;' second, ' that he is a rewarder of all them that diligently 
 serve him.' " — Roger Williams. 
 
 Our readers' sagacity has probably enabled them 
 to penetrate the slight mystery in which the circum- 
 stances that led to the apprehension of Magawisca 
 have been shrouded. Sir Philip Gardiner, after at- 
 tending Mrs. Grafton home on the Saturday night, 
 memorable in the history of our heroine, saw her en- 
 ter the burial-place. Partly moved by his desire to 
 ascertain whether there was any cause for her run- 
 ning away from him that might sooth his vanity, 
 and partly, no doubt, by an irresistible attraction to- 
 wards her, he followed at a prudent distance till 
 he saw her meeting with Magawisca ; he then se- 
 creted himself in the thicket of evergreens, where he 
 was near enough to hear and observe all that passed ; 
 and where, as may be remembered, he narrowly es- 
 caped being exposed by his dog. 
 
 Sir Philip had heard the rumour of a conspiracy 
 among the natives ; and when he saw Magawisca's 
 extreme anxiety to secure a clandestine interview 
 with Miss Leslie, the probable reason for her secre- 
 cy at once occurred to him. If he conjectured right- 
 ly, he was in possession of a secret that might be of 
 12
 
 102 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 value to the state, and, of course, be made the means 
 of advancing him in the favour of the governor. 
 But might he not risk incurring Miss Leshe's dis- 
 pleasure by this interposition in her affairs, and thus 
 forfeit the object of all his present thoughts and ac- 
 tions ? He believed not. He saw that she yielded 
 reluctantly, and because she had no other alterna- 
 tive, to Magawisca's imposition of secrecy. With 
 her romantic notions, it was most probable that she 
 would hold her promise inviolate; but would she 
 not be bound in everlasting gratitude to him who, by 
 an ingenious manoeuvre, should, without in the least 
 involving her honour, secure the recovery of her sis- 
 ter 1 Thus he flattered himself he should, in any 
 event, obtain some advantage. To Miss Leslie he 
 would appear solely actuated by zeal for her happi- 
 ness ; to the governor, by devotion to the safety and 
 welfare of the Commonwealth. 
 
 Accordingly, on the following Monday morning, 
 he solicited a private interview with the magistrates, 
 and deposed before them " that, on returning to his 
 lodgings on Saturday night, he had seen Miss Les- 
 lie enter the burying-ground alone; that, believing 
 she had gone to visit some burial-spot consecrated 
 by affection, and knowing the ardent temper of the 
 young lady, he feared she might forget, in the in- 
 dulgence of her feelings, the lateness of the hour. 
 He had, therefore, with the intention of guarding her 
 from all harm, without intruding on her meditations 
 (which, though manifestly unseasonable, might, he 
 thought, tend to edification), followed her, and se-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 103 
 
 eluded himself in the copse of evergreens, where, to 
 his astonishment, he had witnessed her interview 
 with the Indian woman." The particulars of their 
 conversation he gave at length. 
 
 Unfortunately for Magawisca, Sir Philip's testi- 
 mony corresponded w-ith the story of a renegado In- 
 dian, formerly one of the counsellors and favourites 
 of Miantunnomoh. This savage, stung by some real 
 or fancied wrongs, deserted his tribe, and, vowing 
 revenge, repaired to Boston, and divulged to the 
 governor the secret hostility of his chief to the Eng- 
 lish, which, he said, had been stimulated to activity 
 by the old Pequod chief and the renow^ned maiden 
 Magawisca. 
 
 He stated, also, that the chiefs of the different 
 tribes, moved by the eloquence and arguments of 
 Mononotto, were forming a powerful combination. 
 Thus far the treacherous savage told the truth ; but 
 he proceeded to state plots and underplots, and art- 
 fully to exaggerate the number and power of the 
 tribes. The magistrates lent a believing ear to the 
 "whole story. They were aware that the Narragan- 
 setts, ever since they had witnessed the defeat and 
 extinction of their ancient enemies the Pequods, had 
 felt a secret dread and jealousy of the power and en- 
 croachments of the English, and that they only wait- 
 ed for an opportunity to manifest their hostility. 
 Letters had been recently received fi'om the magis- 
 trates of Connecticut, expressing their belief that a 
 general rising of the Indians was meditated. All 
 these circumstances combined to give importance to
 
 104 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Sir Philip's and the Indian's communications. But 
 the governor felt the necessity of proceeding warily. 
 
 Miantunnomoh had been the faithful friend and 
 ally of the English. He is described by Winthrop 
 as a " sagacious and subtle man, who showed 
 good understanding in the principles of justice and 
 equity, and ingenuity withal." Such a man it was 
 obviously the policy of the English not to provoke ; 
 and the governor hoped, by getting possession of the 
 Pequod family, to obtain the key to Miantunnomoh's 
 real designs, and to crush the conspiracy before it 
 was matured. 
 
 We have been compelled to this digression, in 
 order to explain the harsh reception and treatment 
 of Magawisca ; to account for the zeal with which 
 the governor promoted the party to the garden, and 
 for the signal which guided the boat directly to the 
 Pequod family, and which Sir Philip remained on 
 the island to give. The knight had now got very 
 deep into the councils and favour of the magistrates, 
 who saw in him the selected medium of a special 
 kindness of Providence to them. 
 
 He took good care 
 
 " That all his circling wiles should end 
 In feign'd religion, smooth hypocrisy ;" 
 
 and, by addressing his arts to the predominant tastes 
 and principles of the honest men whom he deluded, 
 he well sustained his accidental advantage. 
 
 It would be vain to attempt to describe the vari- 
 ous emotions of Governor Winthrop's family at the 
 return of Hope Leslie. Madam Winthrop, over-ex-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 105 
 
 cited by the previous events of the evening, had for- 
 tunately escaped any farther agitation by retiring to 
 bed, after composing her nerves with a draught of 
 valerian tea. Mrs. Grafton, who had been trans- 
 ported with joy at the unlooked-for recovery of 
 Faith Leslie, was carried to the extreme of despair 
 when she saw the lifeless body of her beloved niece 
 borne to her apartment. Poor old Cradock went, 
 like a certain classic bird, "up stairs and down 
 stairs," wringing his hands, and sobbing like a whip- 
 ped boy. The elder Fletcher stood bending in mute 
 agony over the child of his affections, whom he 
 loved with even more than the tenderness of a pa- 
 rent. His tears, like those of old and true Meneni- 
 us, seemed " Salter than a younger man's, and ven- 
 omous to his eyes ;" and his good friend Governor 
 Winthrop, when he saw his distress, secretly repent- 
 ed that he had acquiesced in a procedure that had 
 brought such misery upon this much-enduring man. 
 Jennet bustled about, appearing to do everything, 
 and doing nothing, and hoping " to goodness' sake 
 the young lady would come to herself, long enough, 
 at least, to tell what had befallen her :'^ " she al- 
 ways thought, she did, what her harem-scarem ways 
 would bring her to at last." Miss Downing, with- 
 out regarding, or even hearing, these and many 
 other similar mutterings, proceeded with admirable 
 presence of mind to direct and administer all the 
 remedies that were at hand, while Everell, almost 
 distracted, went in quest of medical aid. 
 
 A delirious fever succeeded to unconsciousness;
 
 106 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and for three days Hope Leslie's friends hung over 
 her in the fear that every hour would be her last. 
 For three days and nights Esther Downing never 
 quitted her bedside, except to go to the door of the 
 apartment to answer Everell's inquiries. Her sweet 
 feminine qualities were now called into action : she 
 watched and prayed over her friend ; and, though 
 her cheek was pale and her eye dim, she had never 
 appeared half so lovely to Everell as when, in her 
 ^mple linen dressing-gown, she for an instant left 
 the invalid to announce some favourable symptom. 
 On the fourth morning Hope's fever abated ; her in- 
 coherent ravings ceased, and she sunk, for the first 
 time, into a tranquil sleep. Esther sat perfectly still 
 by her bedside, fearing to move, lest the slightest 
 noise should disturb her ; she heard Everell walking 
 in the entry, as he had done incessantly, and stop- 
 ping at every turn to listen at the door. Till now, 
 all her faculties had been in requisition — her mind 
 and body devoted to her friend — she had not thought 
 of herself; and if sometimes the thought of Everell 
 intruded, she blushed at what she deemed the unsub- 
 dued selfishness of her heart. " Alas !" she said, " I 
 am far from that temper which leads us to ' weep 
 with those that weep,' if I suffer thoughts of my own 
 happy destiny to steal in when my friend is in this 
 extremity." But these were but transient emotions : 
 her devotion to Hope was too sincere and unremit- 
 ting to aiford occasion of reproach even to her 
 watchful and accusing conscience. But now, as she 
 listened to Everell's perturbed footsteps, a new train
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 107 
 
 of thoughts passed through her mind. " Everell has 
 scarcely quitted that station. With what eagerness 
 he has hung over my words when I spoke of Hope ! 
 What a mortal paleness has overspread his face at 
 every new alarm ! It would not, perhaps, have 
 been right, but methinks it would have been natu- 
 ral, that he should have expressed some concern for 
 me : I cannot remember that he has. How often 
 has he said to me, ' Dear Esther, you will not leave 
 her V and, ' For the love of Heaven, trust her not a 
 moment to the discretion of her aunt;' 'Do not 
 confide in Jennet ;' * Madam W^inthrop has too many 
 cares for so delicate a charge : all depends on you, 
 dear Esther.' Yes, he said dear Esther ; but how 
 many times he has repeated it, as if his life were 
 bound up in hers. If I w^ere in Hope's condition, 
 w^ould he feel thus ? I could suffer death itself for 
 such proofs of tenderness. Sinful worm that I am, 
 thus to dote on any creature." The serenity of her 
 mind was disturbed : she rose involuntarily : as she 
 rose, her gow^n caught in her chair, and overthrew 
 it. The chair fell against a little stand by the bed- 
 side, covered with vials, cups, and spoons, and all 
 were overthrown, with one of those horrible clatters 
 that are as startling in a sick-room as the explosion 
 of a magazine at midnight. 
 
 Everell, alarmed by the unw^onted noise, instinct- 
 ively opened the door : Hope awoke from her pro- 
 found sleep and drew aside the curtain ; she looked 
 bewildered, but it was no longer, the wildness of fe- 
 ver : thronging and indistinct recollections oppressed
 
 108 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 her ; but, after an instant, a perfect consciousness of 
 the past and the present returned ; she covered her 
 eyes, and sank back on her pillow, murmuring, 
 " Thank God !" and tears of gratitude and joy stole 
 over her cheeks. 
 
 Esther lost every other emotion in unmixed joy. 
 She went to the door to Everell, who was still 
 standing there as if he were transfixed. " It is as 
 you see," she said ; " the danger is past 5 she has 
 slept sweetly for three hours, and was now only dis- 
 turbed by my carelessness : go to your father with 
 the good news ; your face will tell it, even if your 
 lips refuse, as they do now, to move." 
 
 They did now move, and the joy of his heart broke 
 forth in the exclamation, " You are an angel, Es- 
 ther ! My father owes to you the preservation of his 
 dearest treasure ; and I — I — my life, Esther, shall 
 prove to you my sense of what I owe you." 
 
 There was an enthusiasm in his manner that for 
 the first time satisfied Esther's feelings ; but, her re- 
 ligious sentiments habitually predominating over ev- 
 ery other, " I have been a poor but honoured instru- 
 ment," she said ; " let us all carry our thanksgivings 
 to that altar where they are due." Then, after al- 
 lowing Everell to press her hand to his lips, she 
 closed the door, and returned to Hope's bedside. 
 Hope again put aside the bed-curtain : " Is not my 
 sister here 1" she asked ; " she must be here ; and 
 yet I can scarcely separate my dreams from the 
 strange accidents of that night." 
 
 " She is here, safe and well, my dear Hope ; but,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 109 
 
 for the present, you must be content not to see her : 
 you have been very ill, and need perfect rest." 
 
 " I feel that I need it, Esther ; but I must first know 
 how it has fared with Magawisca ; she came on my 
 solemn promise ; 1 trust she has been justly dealt by : 
 she has been received as she deserved, Esther ?" 
 
 Esther hesitated ; but, seeing Hope's lip quivering 
 with apprehension, and fearing the effects, in her 
 weak state, of any new agitation, she, for the first 
 time in her life, condescended to an equivocation, 
 solacing herself with thinking that she ought to be- 
 lieve that perfectly right which her uncle Winthrop 
 appointed : she said, " Magawisca has had a merit- 
 ed reception : now ask no more questions, Hope, but 
 compose yourself again to sleep." If Hope had had 
 the will, she had not the power to disobey, for Nature 
 will not be rifled of her dues. But we must leave 
 her to the restoring influence of the kindest of all Na- 
 ture's provisions, to visit one from whom care and 
 sorrow banished sleep. 
 
 At an advanced hour of the following evening, Sir 
 Philip Gardiner repaired to the town jail, and was 
 admitted by its keeper, Barnaby Tuttle. The knight 
 produced a passport to the cell of Thomas Morton, 
 and, pointing to the governor's signature and seal, 
 " You know that, friend ]" he said. 
 
 " As well as my own face ; but I am loath to lead 
 a gentleman of your bearing to such an unsavoury 
 place." 
 
 " Scruple not, honest Master Tuttle ; duty takes no 
 note of time or place." 
 
 Vol. IL— K
 
 110 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " You shall be served, sir, and with the better will, 
 since you seem to be, as it were, of a God-serving 
 turn; but walk in, your w^orship, and sit down in my 
 bit of a place, which, though a homely one, and with- 
 in the four walls of a jail, is, I thank the Lord, like 
 that into which Paul and Silas w^ere thrust, a place 
 where prayers and praises are often heard." 
 
 Barnaby now lighted a candle, and while Sir Phil- 
 ip was awaiting his dilatory preparations, he could 
 not but wonder that a man of his appearance should 
 have been selected for an office that is usually sup- 
 posed to require a muscular frame, strong nerves, 
 and a hardy spirit. Barnaby Tuttle had none of 
 these ; but, on the contrary, was a man of small stat- 
 ure, meager person, and a pale and meek counte- 
 nance, that bespoke the disposition that lets " I dare 
 not wait upon I would." 
 
 '' Have you been long in this service of jailer 1" 
 asked Sir Philip. 
 
 " Six years, an please your worship, come the 10th 
 day of next October, at eight o'clock of the morning. 
 I had long been a servant in the governor's own 
 household, and he gave me the office, as he was 
 pleased to say, because he knew me trustworthy, and 
 a merciful man." 
 
 " But mercy, Master Barnaby, is not held to be a 
 special qualification for those of your calling." 
 
 " It is not, sir ? Well, I can tell your honour 
 there's no place it's more wanted ; and here, in our 
 new English colony, we have come, as it were, un- 
 der a new dispensation. Our prisoners are seldom
 
 HOPE LESLIE. Ill 
 
 put in for those crimes that fill the jails in Old Eng- 
 land. Since I have been keeper — six years next 
 October, as I told you it is — I have had but few in 
 for stealing, and one for murder ; and that was a dis- 
 puted case, there being no clear testimony ; but, as 
 he was proved to have lived an atheist life, he was 
 condemned to die, and at the last confessed many 
 sore offences, wdiich, as Mr. Cotton observed in his 
 sermon, preached the next Lord's day, were each 
 and all held w^orthy of death by the laws of Moses. 
 No, sir, our prisoners are chiefly those who are led 
 astray of the devil into divers errors of opinions, or 
 those who commit such sins as are named at length 
 in the Levitical law." 
 
 " Ah," said Sir Philip, with a well-pitched groan, 
 " the depravity of man will find a channel ; stop it 
 at one place, and it will out at another. But come, 
 friend Barnaby, time is going on : I'll follow you." 
 The jailer now led the way through a long, narrow 
 passage, with doors on each side which opened into 
 small apartments. " Hark !" said Barnaby, laying 
 his hand on Sir Philip's arm ; " hear you that 1 It's 
 Gorton praying : he and his company are all along 
 in these wards ; and betimes I hear them calling on 
 the Lord, like Daniel in the lions' den, for hours to- 
 gether. I hope it's not a sin to feel for such woful 
 heretics, for I have dropped salt tears for them. 
 Does not your honour think our magistrates may 
 have some way opened up for their pardon ?" 
 
 " I see not how they can. Master Barnaby, unless 
 these sore revilers should renounce their heresies,
 
 112 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 or," he added, with an involuntary sneer, fortunate- 
 ly for him, unobserved by his simple companion, " or 
 their title to the Indian lands." 
 
 They had now arrived at one extremity of the pas- 
 sage, and Barnaby selected a key from his bunch ; 
 but, before putting it in the lock, he said, " Morton is 
 in a little room within the Indian woman's, taken 
 the other day." 
 
 " So I understand ; and by your leave, Master 
 Tuttle, I would address a private admonition to this 
 Indian woman, w^ho, as report saith, is an obstinate 
 heathen." 
 
 " I suppose she is, your honour ; they that should 
 know say so. But she hath truly a discreet and quiet 
 way with her, that I would was more common among 
 Christian women. But, as you say you wish to speak 
 in private, I must beg your honour's pardon for turn- 
 ing my bolt on you. I will give you the light, and 
 the key to the inner room ; and when you desire my 
 attendance, you have but to pull a cord that hangs 
 by the frame of the door inside, and rings a bell in 
 the passage : one word more, your honour — be on 
 your guard w'hen you go into Morton's cell. He 
 raves, by times, as if all the fiends possessed him ; 
 and then, again, he sings and dances, as if he were 
 at his revels on the Merry Mount ; and by times he 
 cries — the poor old man — like a baby, for the twen- 
 ty-four hours round ; so that I cannot but think a 
 place in the London Hospital would be fitter for 
 him than this." 
 
 " Your feelings seem not to suit with the humour 
 of your profession, Master Tuttle."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 113 
 
 " Maybe not, sir ; but there is a pleasure in a pit- 
 iful feeling, let your outward work be ever so hard, 
 as, doubtless, your worship well knows." 
 
 Sir Philip felt that conscience sent a burning 
 blush to his hardened cheek ; and he said, with an 
 impatient tone, " I have my instructions : let me 
 pass in, Master Tuttle." Barnaby unlocked the 
 door, gave him the candle, and then turned the bolt 
 upon him. 
 
 Magawisca was slowly pacing the room to and 
 fro ; she stopped, uttered a faint exclamation at the 
 sight of her visiter, then turned away as if disap- 
 pointed, and resumed her melancholy step. Sir 
 Philip held up his candle to survey the apartment. 
 It was a room of ordinary size, with one small gra- 
 ted window, and containing a flock-bed and a three- 
 legged stool, on which stood a plate of untasted pro- 
 visions. 
 
 " Truly," said he, advancing into the room, " gen- 
 erous entertainment, this, for a hapless maiden." 
 Magawisca made no reply, and gave no heed to him, 
 and he proceeded : " A godly and gallant youth, 
 that Everell Fletcher, to suffer one who risked her 
 life, and cast away a precious limb for him, to lie 
 forgotten here. Methinks, if he had a spark of thy 
 noble nature, maiden, he would burn the town, or 
 batter down this prison wall for you." An irrepress- 
 ible groan escaped from Magawisca, but she spoke 
 not. 
 
 " He leaves you here, alone and helpless, to await 
 death," continued the knight, thus venting his ma- 
 K 2
 
 114 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 lignity against Everell, though he saw that every 
 word was a torturing knife to the innocent maiden ; 
 " death, the only boon you can expect from these 
 most Christian magistrates ; while he, with a light 
 heart and smirking face, is dancing attendance on 
 his lady-love." 
 
 " On whom V interrupted Magawisca, in a tone 
 of fearful impatience. 
 
 " Ofi her who played so faithfully the part of de- 
 coy-pigeon to thee." 
 
 " Hope Leslie ! My father, then, is taken V she 
 screamed. 
 
 " Nay, nay, not so ; thy father and brother both, 
 by some wondrous chance, escaped." 
 
 " Dost thou speak truth ?" demanded Magawisca, 
 in a thrilling voice, and looking in Sir Philip's face 
 as if she would penetrate his soul ; " I doubt thee." 
 The knight opportunely bethought himself of hav- 
 ing heard Magawisca, during her interview with 
 Hope Leslie, allude to the Romish religion : he took 
 a crucifix from his bosom, and pressed it to his lips. 
 " Then, by this holy sign," he said, " of which, if 
 you know aught, you know that to use it falsely 
 would bring death to my soul, I swear I speak truly." 
 Magawisca again turned away ; and drawing her 
 mantle, which, in her emotion, had fallen back, close 
 over her shoulders, she continued to pace the apart- 
 ment without bestowing even a look on Sir Philip, 
 who felt himself in an awkward predicament, and 
 found it difficult to rally his spirits to prosecute the 
 object of his visit. But habitually confident, and,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 115 
 
 like all bad men, distrusting the existence of incor- 
 ruptible virtue, he soon shook off his embarrassment, 
 and said, "I doubt, maiden, you would breathe 
 more freely in the wild wood than in this stifling 
 prison, and sleep more quietly on the piled leaves 
 of your forests than on that bed that Christian love 
 has spread for you." Magawisca neither manifest- 
 ed by word nor sign that she heard him, and he pro- 
 ceeded more explicitly : " Do you sigh for the free- 
 dom of Nature 7 Would you be restored to it ?" 
 
 " Would I ! would the imprisoned bird return to 
 its nestlings ?" She now stopped, and looked with 
 eager inquiry on Sir Philip. 
 
 " Then listen to me, and you shall learn by what 
 means and on what terms you may escape from this 
 prison, and beyond the reach of your enemies. 
 Here," he continued, producing from beneath his 
 cloak a rope ladder and a file and wrench, " here 
 are instruments by which you can remove those bars, 
 and by which you may safely descend to the ground." 
 
 " Tell me," cried IMagawisca, a ray of joy light- 
 ing her eyes, " tell me how I shall use them." 
 
 Sir Philip explained the mode, enjoined great cau- 
 tion, and then proceeded to say, " By to-morrow 
 night at twelve you can remove the bars ; the town 
 will then be still ; proceed directly to the point 
 where you last landed, and a boat shall there be in 
 readiness, well manned, to convey you beyond dan- 
 ger." 
 
 " Well — well," she replied, with breathless eager- 
 ness, " now tell me what I am to do ; what a poor
 
 116 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Indian prisoner can do to requite such a favour as 
 this V 
 
 Sir Phihp began a reply, stammered, and paused. 
 He seemed to turn and turn his purpose, and en- 
 deavoured to shelter it in some drapery that should 
 hide its ugliness ; but this was beyond his art ; and, 
 summoning impudence to his aid, he said, " I have 
 a young damsel with me, who for silly love followed 
 me out of England. Now, you forester maiden, who 
 live according to the honesty of Nature, you could 
 not understand me if I were to tell you of the cruel 
 laws of the world, which oblige this poor girl to dis- 
 guise herself in man's apparel, and counterfeit the 
 duties of a page, that she may conceal her love. 
 She hath become somewhat troublesome to me : all 
 that I ask as the price of your liberty is, that she may 
 be the companion of your flight." 
 
 " Doth she go wiUingly ?" 
 
 " Nay, not willingly ; but she is young, and, like 
 a tender twig, you can bend her at will ; all I ask 
 is your promise that she return not." 
 
 "But if she resist?" 
 
 " Act your pleasure with her ; yet I would not 
 that she were harmed. You may give her to your 
 brother in the place of this fair-haired damsel they 
 have stolen from him ; or," he added, for he saw 
 that Magawisca's brow contracted, " or, if that suits 
 not you nor him, you may take her to your western 
 forests, and give her to a Romish priest, who will 
 guide her to the Hotel Dieu w4iich our good Lady 
 of Bouillon has estabhshed in Canada." Majrawis-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 117 
 
 ca dropped at his feet the instruments which she had 
 grasped with such deUght. " Nay, nay, bethink you, 
 maiden, it is a small boon to return for liberty and 
 life ; for, trust me, if you remain here they w^ill not 
 spare your life." 
 
 " And dost thou think," she replied, " that I would 
 make my heart as black as thine to save my life ? 
 Life ! Dost thou not know that life can only be aba- 
 ted by those evil deeds forbidden by the Great Mas- 
 ter of Life 1 The writing of the Great Spirit has 
 surely vanished from thy degraded soul, or thou 
 wouldst know that man cannot touch life ! Life is 
 naught but the image of the Great Spirit; and he 
 hath most of it who sends it back most true and un- 
 broken, like the perfect image of the clear heavens 
 in the still lake." 
 
 Sir Philip's eye fell, and his heart quailed before 
 the lofty glance and unsullied spirit of the Indian 
 maiden. Once he looked askance at her, but it was 
 with such a look as Satan eyed the sun in his " high 
 meridian tower." With a feeling of almost insup- 
 portable meanness, he collected, and again conceal- 
 ed beneath his cloak, the ladder and other instru- 
 ments, which he had been at no small pains to pro- 
 cure, and was turning to summon Barnaby by ring- 
 ing the bell, when he suddenly recollected that 
 Thomas Morton had been the ostensible motive of 
 his visit, and that it was but a prudent precaution 
 to look in upon him for an instant ; and feeling too, 
 perhaps, a slight curiosity to see the companion of 
 his former excesses, he changed his purpose, turned 
 to Morton's door, unlocked and opened it.
 
 118 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 The old man seemed to have shrunk away as if 
 frightenedj and was gathered up almost into a ball 
 in one corner of his miserable little squalid den. A 
 few remnants of his garments hung like shreds about 
 him. Every particle of his hair had dropped out; 
 his grizzly beard was matted together; his eyes 
 gleamed like sparks of fire in utter darkness. Sir 
 Philip was transfixed. " Is this," he thought, "Mor- 
 ton ! the gentleman — the gallant cavalier — the man 
 of pleasure 7 Good God ! the girl hath truly spoken 
 of life !" While he stood thus, the old man sprang 
 on him like a cat, pulled him within the door, and 
 then, with the action of madness, swift as thought, 
 he seized the key, locked the door on the inside, 
 and threw the key through the bars of the window 
 without the prison. The candle had fallen and was 
 extinguished, and Sir Philip found himself immured, 
 with his scarcely human companion, in total dark- 
 ness, without any means of rescue excepting through 
 Magawisca. His first impulse was to entreat her to 
 ring the bell ; but he delayed for a moment, lest he 
 should heighten the old man's paroxysm of madness. 
 In this interval of silence Magawisca fancied she 
 heard a sound against her window, and, on going 
 to it, perceived, though the night was extremely 
 dark, a ladder resting against the bars; she listen- 
 ed, and heard a footstep ascending ; then there was 
 a wrestling in Morton's ropm, and screams, " He'll 
 kill me — -ring the bell." Again all w^as still, and 
 she heard from the ground below, " Come down, 
 Mr. Everell, for the love of Heaven come down."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 119 
 
 The words were uttered in a tone hardly above a 
 whisper. 
 
 *' Hush, Digby, I will not come down !" 
 
 "Then you are lost 3 those cries will certainly 
 alarm the guard." 
 
 " Hush ! the cries have ceased." Everell mount- 
 ed quite to the window, quick as if he had risen on 
 wings. 
 
 " He is true !" thought Magawisca ; and it seemed 
 to her that her heart would burst with joy, but she 
 could not speak. He applied an instrument to one 
 of the iron bars, and wrenched it off. Repeated and 
 louder cries of " Murder ! help ! ring the bell !" now 
 proceeded from Gardiner, and the old maniac seem- 
 ed determined to outroar him. Again the noise 
 ceased, and again Digby spoke in a more agitated 
 voice than before. " Oh, they are stirring in the 
 yard j come away, Mr. Everell." 
 
 " I will not — I had rather die ; stand fast, Digby ; 
 one bar more, and she is free j" and again he ap- 
 plied the instrument. 
 
 " Are you mad 1" exclaimed Digby, in a more 
 raised and eager voice ; " I tell you the lights are 
 coming; if you do not escape now, nothing can 
 ever be done for her." 
 
 This last argument had the intended effect. Ever- 
 ell felt that all hope of extricating Magawisca de- 
 pended on his now eluding discovery ; and with an 
 exclamation of bitter disappointment, he relinquish- 
 ed the enterprise for the present, and descending a 
 fev7 rounds of the ladder, leaped to the ground, and,
 
 120 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 with DIgby, disappeared before the guard reached 
 the spot of operations. Magawisca saw two of the 
 men go off in pursuit, while the other remained pick- 
 ing up the implements that Everell had dropped, and 
 muttering something of old Barnaby sleeping as if he 
 slept his last sleep. 
 
 Relieved from the sad conviction of Everell's de- 
 sertion and ingratitude, Magawisca seemed for a mo- 
 ment to float on happiness, and, in her exultation, to 
 forget the rocks and quicksands that encompassed 
 her. Another outcry from Sir Philip recalled her 
 thoughts, and, obeying the first impulse of humanity, 
 she rang the bell violently. Barnaby soon appeared 
 with a lamp and keys, and learning the durance of 
 Sir Philip, he hastened to his relief. A key was 
 found to unlock the door, and, on opening it, the 
 knight's terror and distress were fully explained. 
 Morton had thrown him on his back, and pinned him 
 to the floor by planting his knee on Sir Philip's 
 breast, and had interrupted his cries, and almost suf- 
 focated him, by stuffing his cloak into his mouth. At 
 the sight of his keeper the maniac sprang off", and, 
 with a sort of inarticulate chattering and laughing, 
 resumed his old station in the corner, apparently quite 
 unconscious that he had moved from it. 
 
 Sir Philip darted out, and shut the door as if he 
 were closing a tiger's cage ; and then, in wrath that 
 overswelled all limits, he turned upon poor Barnaby, 
 and shaking him till his old bones seemed to rattle 
 in their thin casement, he poured out on him curses 
 deep and loud for leading him into that " devil's
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 121 
 
 den." Magawisca interposed ; but, instead of calm- 
 ing his wrath, she only drew it on herself. He swore 
 he would be revenged on her, " d — d Indian that she 
 was, to stand by and not lift her hand when she knew 
 he w^as dying by torture." Magawisca did not 
 vouchsafe any other reply to this attack than a look 
 of calm disdain ; and Barnaby, now recovering from 
 the fright and amazement into which Sir Philip's 
 violence had thrown him, held up his lamp, and 
 reconnoitring the knight's face and person, " It is 
 the same," he said, resolving his honest doubts, *' the 
 same I let in : circumstances alter cases, and men 
 too, I think : why, I took him for as godly a seem- 
 ing man as ever I laid my eyes on — a yea and nay 
 Pilgrim ; but such profane swearing exceedeth Chad- 
 dock's men, or Chaddock either, or the master they 
 serve." 
 
 " Prate not, you canting villain : why did not you 
 come when you heard my cries 7 or where was you 
 that you heard them not V 
 
 " Just taking a little nap in my rocking-chair ; and 
 I said to myself as I sat myself down, * Now, Bar- 
 naby, if you should happen to fall out of your medi- 
 tation into sleep, remember to wake at the ringing of 
 the bell ;' and, accordingly, at the very first touch of 
 it I was on my feet and coming hitherward." 
 
 Sir Philip's panic and WTath had now so far sub- 
 sided that he perceived there w^as an alarming dis- 
 cordance between his extempore conduct and his 
 elaborate pretensions; and, reassuming his mask with 
 an awkward suddenness, he said, " Well, well. 
 
 Vol. II.— L
 
 122 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 friend Barnaby, we will both forgive and forget. I 
 will say nothing of your sleeping soundly at your 
 post, when you have such dangerous prisoners in 
 ward that the governor has thought it necessary to 
 give you a guard ; and you, good Barnaby, will say 
 nothing of my having for a moment lost the com- 
 mand of my reason ; though, being so sorely bestead, 
 and having but a poor human nature, I think I should 
 not be hardly judged by merciful men." 
 
 " As to forgiving and forgetting, your worship," 
 replied the good-natured fellow, " that I can do as 
 easily as another man, but not from any dread of 
 your tale-bearing ; for I think the governor hath 
 sent the guard here partly in consideration of my 
 age and feebleness; and I fear not undue blame. 
 Therefore, not for my own by-ends will I keep close, 
 but that I hold it not neighbourly to speak to anoth- 
 er's hurt; and I well know it is but the topmost 
 saints that are always in the exercise of grace. But 
 I marvel, your worship, that ye spoke those evil 
 words so glibly : it seemed like one casting away 
 stilts, and going on his own feet again." 
 
 " All the fault of an ungodly youth, worthy Mas- 
 ter Tuttle," replied Sir Philip, rolling up his eyes 
 sanctimoniously ; " and he who ensnared my soul, 
 thy miserable prisoner there, is now reaping the 
 Lord's judgments therefor." 
 
 *' I think it is not profitable," said the simple man, 
 as he led the way out of the prison, " to cast up 
 judgments at any one ; we are all — as your worship 
 has just suddenly and wofully experienced — we are
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 123 
 
 all liable to falls in this slippery world ; and I have 
 always thought it a more prudent and Christian part 
 to lend a helping hand to a fallen brother, than to 
 stand by and laugh at him, or flout him." 
 
 Sir Philip hurried away ; every virtuous sentiment 
 fell on his ear like a rebuke. Even in an involun- 
 tary comparison of himself with the simple jailer, he 
 felt that genuine goodness, dimmed and sulHed 
 though it may be by ignorance and fanaticism, like 
 a good dull guinea, rings true at every trial ; while 
 hypocrisy, though it show a face fair and bright, yet, 
 like a new false coin, betrays at every scratch the 
 base metal. 
 
 Perhaps no culprit ever turned his back on a jail 
 with a more thorouoh conviction that he deserved 
 
 o 
 
 there to be incarcerated than did Sir Philip. De- 
 tection in guilt is said marvellously to enlighten 
 men's consciences : there may be a kindred virtue 
 in disappointment in guilty projects. The knight 
 had become impatient of his tedious masquerade. 
 He was at first diverted w^ith a new, and, as it seem- 
 ed to him, a fantastical state of society, and amused 
 at the success with which he played his assumed 
 character. He soon became passionately enamoured 
 of Hope Leslie, and pursued her with a determined, 
 unwavering resolution, that, vacillating as he had 
 always been, astonished himself. In the eagerness 
 of the chase, he underrated the obstacles that op- 
 posed him, and, above all, the insuperable obstacle, 
 the manifest indifference of the young lady, which 
 his vanity (must we add, his experience) led him to
 
 124 HOPE LESLIE, 
 
 believe was affectation, whim, or accident ; any or all 
 of these might be successfully opposed and overcome. 
 He had tried to probe her feelings in relation to 
 Everell, and, though he was puzzled by the result, 
 and knew not what it meant, he trusted it did not 
 mean love. But if it did, what girl of Hope Leshe's 
 spirit, he asked himself, would remain attached to a 
 drivelling fellow, who, from complaisance to the 
 washes of prosing old men, had preferred to her such 
 a statue of formality and Puritanism as Esther Down- 
 ing ? and, Everell removed. Sir Philip feared no 
 other competitor ; for he counted for nothing those 
 gentlemen who might aspire to Miss Leslie's hand, 
 but whose strict obedience to the canons of Puritan- 
 ism left them, as he thought, few of the qualities 
 that were likely to interest a romantic imagination. 
 For himself, determined not to jeopard his success by 
 wearing his sanctimonious mask to Hope, he played 
 the magician wdth two faces, and to her he was the 
 gay and gallant chevalier; his formality, his pre- 
 ciseness, and every badge and insignia of the Puritan 
 school were dropped, and he talked of love and po- 
 etry like any carpet-knight of those days, or draw- 
 ing-room lover of our own. But this was a danger- 
 ous game to play, and must not be protracted. Some 
 untoward accident might awaken the guardians of 
 the colony from their credulous confidence, and to 
 this danger his wayward page continually exposed 
 him. 
 
 As our readers are already acquainted with the 
 real character of this unhappy victim of Sir Philip's
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 125 
 
 profligacy, it only remains to give the few untold 
 circumstances of her brief history. She was the nat- 
 ural child of an English nobleman. Her mother was 
 a distinguished French actress, who, dying soon af- 
 ter her birth, committed the child to some charitable 
 sisters of the order of St. Joseph. Her father^ on his 
 death-bed, seized by the pangs of remorse, exacted 
 a promise from his sister, the Lady Lunford, that she 
 w^ould receive the orphan under her protection. The 
 lady performed the promise a la lettre, and no more. 
 She withdrew the unfortunate Rosa from her safe 
 asylum, but she kept from her, and from all the 
 world, the secret of their relationship, and made the 
 dependance and desolateness of the poor orphan a 
 broad foundation for her own tyranny. Lady Lun- 
 ford was a woman of the world — a waning, Rosa, a 
 ripening beauty. Her house was the resort of men 
 of fashion. Sir Philip paid his devotions there, os- 
 tensibly to the noble mistress, but really to the young 
 creature whose melting eyes, naivete, and strong and 
 irrepressible feelings enchanted him. Probably Lady 
 Lunford found the presence of the young beauty in- 
 convenient. She certainly never threw any obstacle 
 in Sir Philip's way ; indeed, he afterward cruelly 
 boasted to Rosa that her patroness had persuaded 
 him to receive her ; but this was long after : for 
 many months he treated her with the fondest devo- 
 tion ; and she, poor credulous child, was first awa- 
 kened from dreams of love and happiness by pangs 
 of jealousy. 
 
 From her own confessions. Sir Philip learned how 
 L 2
 
 126 IIOrE LESLIE. 
 
 far she had divulged her sorrows to Hope Leslie, 
 and from that moment he meditated some mode of 
 secretly and suddenly ridding himself of her, and 
 finally determined on the project which, as we have 
 seen, was wofully defeated ; and he was compelled 
 to retreat from Magawisca's prison with the torment- 
 ing apprehension that he might himself fall into the 
 pit he had digged. 
 
 Let those who have yet to learn in what happi- 
 ness consists, and its actual independence of exter- 
 nal circumstances, turn from the gifted and accom- 
 plished man of the world to the Indian prisoner ; 
 from the baffled tempter to the victorious tempted. 
 Magawusca could scarcely have been made happier 
 if Everell had achieved her freedom, than she was by 
 the certain knowledge of his interposition for her. 
 The sting of his supposed ingratitude had been her 
 sharpest sorrow^ Her affection for Everell Fletcher 
 had the tenderness, the confidence, the sensitiveness 
 of w^oman's love ; but it had nothing of the selfish- 
 ness, the expectation, or the earthliness of that pas- 
 sion. She had done and suffered much for him, and 
 she felt that his worth must be the sole requital for 
 her sufferings. She felt, too, that she had received 
 much from him. He had opened the book of knowl- 
 edge to her ; had given subjects to her contemplative 
 mind beyond the mere perceptions of her senses; 
 had in some measure dissipated the clouds of igno- 
 rance that hung over the forest child, and given her 
 ghmpses of the past and the distant ; but, above all, 
 he had gratified her strong national pride by ad-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 127 
 
 mitting the natural equality of all the children of the 
 Great Spirit, and by allowing that it was the 
 knowledge of the Englishman — an accidental supe- 
 riority — that forced from the uninstructed Indian the 
 exclamation, " Manittoo ! Manittoo !" he is a God.
 
 128 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 *' My heart is wondrous light 
 Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimed." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 The next morning opened on Boston with that 
 boon to all small societies, a new topic of interest and 
 conversation. The attempt on the prison the prece- 
 ding night was in every one's mouth; and as the 
 community had been much agitated concerning the 
 heresies and trial of Gorton and his company, they 
 did not hesitate to attribute the criminal outrage to 
 some of his secret adherents, who, as the sentence 
 that had passed on the unfortunate man was the 
 next day to take effect, had made this desperate ef- 
 fort to rescue them. It was not even surmised by 
 the popular voice that the bold attempt had been 
 made on account of the Indian woman. The ma- 
 gistrates had very discreetly refrained from disclo- 
 sing her connexion with state affairs, as every alarm 
 about the rising of the Indians threw the colony, es- 
 pecially the women and children, into a state of the 
 greatest agitation. The imprisonment of Magawisca 
 was therefore looked upon as a transient, prudential, 
 and domicihary arrangement, to prevent the possi- 
 bility of any concert between her and the recovered 
 captive. Faith Leslie, who was known to be pining 
 for her Indian friends.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 129 
 
 That the governor's secret conclusions were very 
 different from those of the people, was indicated by 
 a private order which he sent to Barnaby Tuttle, to 
 remove the Indian maiden from the upper apartment 
 to the dungeon beneath the prison, but by no means 
 to inflict any other severity on her, or to stint her 
 of any kindness consistent with her safe keeping. 
 Gorton's company were on the same day removed 
 from the prison, and, as is well known to the read- 
 ers of the chronicles of the times, distributed separ- 
 ately to the towns surrounding Boston, where, not- 
 withstanding they were jealously guarded and watch- 
 ed, they proved dangerous leaven, and were soon 
 afterward transported to England. 
 
 Whatever secret suspicions the governor enter- 
 tained in relation to Everell Fletcher, his kind feel- 
 ings, and the dehcate relation in which he stood to 
 that young man, as the son of his dearest friend and 
 the betrothed husband of his niece, induced him to 
 keep them within his own bosom, without even in- 
 timating them to his partners in authority, who, he 
 well knew, whatever infirmities they, frail men, 
 might have of their own, were seldom guilty of 
 winking at those of others. 
 
 But to return to our heroine, whom we left con- 
 valescing ; the energies of a youthful and unimpair- 
 ed constitution, and the unwearied care of her gen- 
 tle nurse, restored her, in the space of two days, to 
 such a degree of strength that she was able to join 
 the family in the parlour at their evening meal, to 
 which we cannot give the convenient designation of
 
 130 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " tea," as Asia had not yet supplied us with this best 
 of all her aromatic luxuries. 
 
 Hope entered the parlour leaning on Esther's arm. 
 All rose to welcome her, and to offer their congrat- 
 idations, more or less formal, on her preservation and 
 recovery. Everell advanced with the rest, and es- 
 sayed to speak, but his voice failed him. Hope, 
 with natural frankness, gave him her hand, and all 
 the blood in her heart seemed to gush into her 
 pale cheeks, but neither did she speak. In the 
 general movement, their reciprocal emotion passed 
 unobserved excepting by Esther ; she noted it. 
 After the meal w^as finished, and the governor had 
 returned thanks, in which he inserted a clause ex- 
 pressive of the general gratitude " for the mercies 
 that had been vouchsafed to the maiden near and 
 dear to many present, in that she had been led safe- 
 ly through perils by water, by land, and by sickness^" 
 Madam Winthrop kindly insisted that Hope should 
 occupy her easy chair ; but Hope declined the hon- 
 our, and, seating herself on the window-seat, mo- 
 tioned to her sister to come and sit by her. The 
 poor girl obeyed, but without any apparent interest, 
 and without even seeming conscious of the endear- 
 ing tenderness with which Hope stroked back her 
 hair and kissed her cheek. "What shall we do 
 with this poor home-sick child ?" she asked, appeal- 
 ing to her guardian. 
 
 "In truth, I know^ not," he replied. "All day 
 and all night, they tell me, she goes from window to 
 window, like an imprisoned bird fluttering against
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 131 
 
 the bars of its cage; and so wistfully she looks 
 abroad, as if her heart went forth with the glance 
 of her eye." 
 
 "I have done my best," said Mrs. Grafton, now 
 joining in the conversation, " to please her, but it's 
 all working for nothing, and no thanks. In the first 
 place, I gave her all her old playthings that you 
 saved so carefully, Hope, and shed so many tears 
 over, and at first they did seem to pleasure her. 
 She looked them over and over, and I could see by 
 the changes of her countenance, as she took up one 
 and another, that some glimmering of past times 
 came over her ; but, as ill luck would have it, there 
 was among the rest, in a little basket, a string of 
 bird's eggs, which Oneco had given her at Bethel. 
 I remembered it well, and so did she ; for, as soon 
 as she saw it, she dropped everything else, and 
 burst into tears." 
 
 " Poor child !" said Mr. Fletcher ; " these early af- 
 fections are deeply rooted." Everell, who stood by 
 his father, turned and walked to the other extremity 
 of the apartment, and Hope involuntarily passed her 
 hand hastily over her brow ; as she did so, she look- 
 ed up and saw Esther's eye fixed on her. Rallying 
 her spirits, " I am weak yet, Esther," she said, " and 
 this sudden change from our still room confuses me." 
 Mrs. Grafton did not mark this little interlude, and, 
 replying to Mr. Fletcher's last observation, " Poor 
 child ! do you call her ? I call it sheer foolishness. 
 Her early affections, indeed ! you seem to forget she 
 had other and earlier than for that Indian boy ; but
 
 132 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 this seems to be the one weed that has choked all 
 the rest. Hope, my dear, you have no idea what a 
 non compos mentis she has got to be. I showed her 
 all my earrings, and gave her her choice of all but 
 the diamonds that are promised for your wedding 
 gift, dearie, you know, and, do you think, she scarce- 
 ly looked at them ? while she won't let me touch 
 those horrid blue glass things she wears, that look 
 so like the tawnies, it makes me all of a nerve to see 
 them. And then, just look for yourself: though I 
 have dressed her up in that beautiful Lyons silk of 
 yours, with the Dresden tucker, she will — this warm 
 weather, too — keep on her Indian mantle in that 
 blankety fashion." 
 
 " Well, my dear aunt, why not indulge her for 
 the present ? I suppose she has the feeling of the 
 natives, who seem to have an almost superstitious 
 attachment to that Oriental costume." 
 
 " Oriental fiddlestick ! you talk like a simpleton, 
 Hope. I suppose you would let her wear that string 
 of all-coloured shells round her neck, would you 
 not," she asked, drawing aside Faith's mantle, and. 
 showing the savage ornament, " instead of that beau- 
 tiful rainbow necklace of mine, which I have offered 
 to her in place of it 1" 
 
 " If you ask me seriously, aunt, I certainly would, 
 if she prefers it." 
 
 " Now that is pecuhar of you, Hope. Why, Miss 
 Esther Downing, mine is a string of stones that go 
 by sevens : yellow, topaz — orange, onyx — red, ruby 
 — and so on, and so on. Master Cradock wrote the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 133 
 
 definitions of them all out of a Latin book for me 
 once ; and yet, though it is such a peculiar beauty, 
 that silly child will not give up those horrid shells 
 for it. Now," she continued, turning to Faith, and 
 putting her hand on the necklace, " now, that's a 
 good girl, let me take it off." 
 
 Faith understood her action, though not her 
 words, and she laid her own hand on the necklace, 
 and looked as if obstinately determined it should not 
 be removed. 
 
 Hope perceived there was something attached to 
 the necklace, and on a closer inspection, which her po- 
 sition enabled her to make, she saw it was a cruci- 
 fix ; and dreading lest her sister should be exposed 
 to a new source of persecution, she interposed : " Let 
 her have her own way at present, I pray you, aunt ; 
 she may have some reason for preferring those shells 
 that we do not know ; and if she has not, I see no 
 great harm in her preferring bright shells to bright 
 stones ; at any rate, for the present, we had best 
 leave her to herself, and say nothing at all to her 
 about her dress or ornaments." 
 
 " Well — very well j take your own w^ay, Miss 
 Hope Leslie." 
 
 Hope smiled : " Nay, aunt," she said, " I cannot 
 be Miss Hope Leslie till I get quite well again." 
 
 " Oh, dearie, I meant nothing, you know," said 
 the good lady, whose displeasure never held out 
 against one of her niece's smiles. " If Miss Esther 
 Downing," she added, lowering her voice, " had told 
 me to say nothing of dress and ornaments, I should 
 
 Vor. TL~M
 
 134 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 not have been surprised j but it is an unheard-of 
 sirapleness for you, Hope. Dress and ornaments ! 
 they are the most hkely things in the world to take 
 the mind off from trouble. Till I came to this new 
 English colony, where everything seems, as it were, 
 topsy-turvy, I never saw that woman whose mind 
 could not be diverted by dress and ornaments." 
 
 " You strangely dishonour your memory. Mistress 
 Grafton, or Hope's noble mother," said the elder 
 Fletcher ; " methinks I have often heard you say 
 that Alice Fletcher had no taste for these vanities." 
 
 " No, you never heard me say that, Mr. Fletcher. 
 Vanities ! no, never, the longest day I had to live ; 
 for I never called them vanities^ — no ; I did say Alice 
 always went as plain as a pike-staff after you left 
 England ; and a great pity it was, I always thought ; 
 for, when Queen Henrietta came from France, we 
 had such a world of beautiful new fashions, it would 
 have cured Alice of moping if she would have given 
 her mind to it. There was my Lady Penyvere, 
 how different it was with her after her losses : let's 
 see— her husband, and her son Edward, heir to the 
 estate, and her daughter-in-law — that was not so 
 much, but we'll count her — and Ulrica, her own 
 daughter, all died in one week ; and, for an aggra- 
 vation, her coachman, horses, coach, and all, went 
 off London Bridge, and all w^ere drowned — killed — 
 smashed to death ; and yet, in less than a week, my 
 lady gave orders for every suit of mourning; and 
 that is the great use of wearing mourning, as she 
 said : it takes the mind off from trouble."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 135 
 
 Hope felt, and her quick eye saw, that her aunt 
 was running on sadly at her own expense ; and, to 
 produce an effect similar to the painter, when, by his 
 happy art, he shifts his lights, throwing defects into 
 shadow, and bringing out beauties, she said, " You 
 are very little like your friend Lady Penyvere, dear 
 aunt ; for I am certain, if, as you feared, I had lost 
 my life the other day, all the mourning in the king's 
 realm would not have turned your thoughts from 
 trouble." 
 
 " No, that's true — that's very true, dearie," repli- 
 ed the good lady, snuffling, and wiping away the 
 tears that had gathered at the bare thought of the 
 evil that had threatened her. " No, Hope ; touch 
 you, touch my life; but then," she added, lowering 
 her voice for Hope's ear only, " I can't bear to have 
 you give in to this outcry against dress ; we have 
 preaching and prophesying enough, the Lord knows, 
 without your taking it up." 
 
 Lights were now ordered, and, after the bustle 
 made by the ladies drawing around the table and 
 arranging their work was over. Governor Winthrop 
 said, " If your strength is equal to the task, Miss 
 Leslie, we would gladly hear the particulars of your 
 marvellous escape, of which Esther has been able to 
 give us but a slight sketch — though enough to make 
 us all admire at the wonderful Providence that 
 brought you safely through." 
 
 The elder Fletcher, really apprehensive for Hope's 
 health, and still more apprehensive that she might, 
 in her fearless frankness, discredit herself with the
 
 136 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 governor by disclosing all the particulars of her late 
 experience, which he had already heard from her 
 lips, and permitted to pass uncensured, interposed, 
 and hoped to avert the evil by begging that the re- 
 lation might be deferred. But Hope insisted that she 
 felt perfectly well, and began by saying, " She doubt- 
 ed not her kind friends had made every allowance 
 for the trouble she had occasioned them. She was 
 conscious that much evil had proceeded from the rash 
 promise of secrecy she had given." She forbore to 
 name Magawisca on her sister's account, who was 
 still sitting by her; the governor, by a significant 
 nod, expressed that he comprehended her ; and she 
 went on to say " That she trusted she had been for- 
 given for that, and for all the petulant and childish 
 conduct of the week that followed it. I scarcely 
 recollect anything of those days, that then seemed to 
 me interminable," she said," but that I tried to mask 
 my troubled spirit with a laughing face, and, in spite 
 of all my efforts, I was rather cross than gay. I be- 
 lieve. Madam Winthrop, I called forth your censure, 
 and I pray you to forgive me for not taking it pa- 
 tiently and thankfully, as I ought." 
 
 Madam Winthrop, all astonishment at Hope's ex- 
 emplary humility and deference — graces she had not 
 appeared to abound in — assured her, with un assumed 
 kindness, that she had her cordial forgiveness ; 
 though, indeed, she was pleased to say, " Hope's ex- 
 planation left her little to forgive." 
 
 " And you, sir," said Hope, turning to the govern- 
 or, " you, I trust, will pardon me for selecting your 
 garden for a secret rendezvous."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 137 
 
 "Indeed, Hope Leslie, I could pardon a much 
 heavier transgression in one so young as thee, and 
 one who seems to have so hopeful a sense of error," 
 replied the governor ; while the good- will beaming 
 in his benevolent face showed how much more ac- 
 cordant kindness was with his nature than the aus- 
 tere reproof which he so often believed the letter of 
 his duty required from him. 
 
 " Then you all — all forgive me, do you not V 
 Hope asked ; and, glancing her eye around the room, 
 it involuntarily rested for a moment on Everell. All 
 but Everell, who did not speak, were warm in their 
 assurances that they had nothing to forgive ; and the 
 elder Fletcher tenderly pressed her hand, secretly 
 rejoicing that her graceful humihty enabled her to 
 start wath her story from vantage ground. 
 
 " I did not see you, I believe, Esther,'^ continued 
 Hope, " after we parted at Digby's cottage ?" 
 
 " Speak a trifle louder, if you please. Miss Leslie," 
 said the governor. Hope was herself conscious that 
 her voice had faltered at the recollection of the de- 
 finitive scene in Digby's cottage, and, making a new 
 effort, she said, in a firmer and more cheerful tone, 
 " You, Esther, were happily occupied. I was per- 
 secuted by Sir Philip Gardiner, whose un gentleman- 
 ly interference in my concerns will, I trust, relieve 
 me from his society in future." 
 
 " Pardon me. Miss Leslie," said the governor, in- 
 terrupting Hope ; " our friend Sir Philip hath deserv- 
 ed your thanks rather than your censure. There 
 are, as you well know, duties paramount to the 
 M 2
 
 138 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 courtesies of a gentleman, which are, for the most 
 part, but a vain show — mere dress and decoration ;" 
 and he vouchsafed a smile as he quoted the words 
 of Mrs. Grafton : " Sir Philip believed he was con- 
 sulting your happiness when he took measures to re- 
 cover your sister, which your promise forbade your 
 taking." 
 
 " Sir Philip strangely mistakes me," replied Hope, 
 " if he thinks anything could console me for appa- 
 rently betraying one who trusted me to sorrowful, 
 fearful imprisonment." 
 
 There was a pause, during which Mrs. Winthrop 
 whispered to Esther, "Then she knows all about itl" 
 
 " Yes ; she would not rest till she heard all." 
 
 Hope proceeded. " I believe I am not yet strong 
 enough to speak on this point." She then went on 
 to narrate circumstantially all that took place after 
 she was parted from Magawisca till she came to An- 
 tonio. Cradock, when she began, had laid aside a 
 little Greek book over which he was conning, and 
 had, at every new period of her relation, given his 
 chair a hitch towards her, till he sat directly before 
 her, on the edge of his chair, his knees pressed close 
 together, and his palms resting upright on them, his 
 head stooped forward so as to be at right angles 
 with his body, and his parting lips creeping round 
 to his ears wuth an expression of complacent won- 
 der. Thus he sat and looked while Hope described 
 her polite acquiescence in Antonio's error, and re- 
 peated her first reply to him in Italian. At this the 
 old man threw his head back, and burst into a peal
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 139 
 
 of laughter that resembled the neighing of a horse 
 more than any human sound; and, as soon as he 
 could recover his voice, " Did I not teach her the 
 tongues ?" he asked, with a vehement gesture to the 
 company ; " did 1 not teach her the tongues 1" 
 
 " Indeed you did, kind Master Cradock," said 
 Hope, laying her hand on his, " and many a weary 
 hour it cost you." 
 
 " Never — never one ; thou wert always a marvel- 
 lous quick-witted damsel." He then resumed his 
 seat and his former attitude, and, closing his eyes, 
 said, in his usual low, deliberate tone, " I bless the 
 Lord that the flower and beauty of my youth were 
 spent in Padua, a poor blind worm that I am: I 
 deemed it a loss, but it hath saved her most precious 
 and sweet life." And here he burst into a paroxysm 
 of tears and sobbing almost as violent as his laugh- 
 ter had been : his organs seemed moved by springs, 
 which, if touched by an emotion, were quite beyond 
 his control, and only ceased their operation when 
 their mechanical force was exhausted. 
 
 Hope had little more to relate: she prudently 
 suppressed the private concerns of Sir Philip's page, 
 and attributed their accidental meeting to his having 
 come abroad, as in truth he had, in quest of his mas- 
 ter. When she had finished, the governor said, 
 "Thou hast indeed been brought through many 
 dangers, Hope Leslie -, delivered from the hand of 
 thy strong enemy, and thy feet made like hinds' 
 feet ; and I joy to say that thy experience of the 
 Lord's mercies seemeth to have wrought a becoming
 
 140 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 sobriety in thee. I would fain pass over that last 
 passage in thy evening's adventures without remark, 
 but duty bids me say thou didst err lamentably in 
 permitting, for a moment, the idol-worship of that 
 darkened, papistical youth." 
 
 " Worship, sir !" said Hope ; " I did not esteem 
 it worship ; I thought it merely an affectionate ad- 
 dress to one who — and I hope I erred not in that — 
 might not have been a great deal better than my- 
 self." 
 
 " I think she erred not greatly," said Mr. Fletch- 
 er, who at this moment felt too tenderly for Hope pa- 
 tiently to hear her rebuked j " the best Catholic doc- 
 tors put this interpretation on the invocations to 
 saints." 
 
 " Granted," replied the governor ; " but did she 
 right to deepen and strengthen the superstition of 
 the Romish sailor ?" 
 
 "It does not appear to me," said Mr. Fletcher, 
 " that it was a seasonable moment for meddlino- with 
 
 o 
 
 his superstitions. We do not read that Paul re- 
 buked the Melitans, even when they said he was a 
 god." This was but negative authority ; but, while 
 the governorhesitated how he should answer it, Mr. 
 Fletcher turned to Esther : " Miss Downing," he 
 said, " thou art the pattern maiden of the Common- 
 wealth : in Hope's condition, wouldst thou have acted 
 differently ? Out of thy mouth she shall be justified 
 or condemned." 
 
 " Speak, dear Esther," said Hope ; " why do you 
 hesitate ? If I were to choose an external conscience,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 141 
 
 you should be my rule; though I think the stern 
 monitor could never be imbodied in so gentle a 
 form. Now tell us, Esther, what would you have 
 done V 
 
 " What I should have done, if left to my own 
 strength, I know not," replied Esther, speaking re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 " Then, Esther, I will put the question in a form 
 to spare your humility : I will not ask what you 
 would have done, but what I ought to have done." 
 
 Esther's strictness was a submission to duty ; and 
 it cost her an effort to say, " I would rather, Hope, 
 thou hadst trusted thyself wholly to that Providence 
 that had so wonderfully wrought for thee thus far." 
 
 "I believe you are quite right, Esther," said 
 Hope, who was disposed to acquiesce in whatever 
 her friend said, and glad to escape from any farther 
 discussion, and, moreover, anxious to avert Esther's 
 observation from Everell, who, during the conver- 
 sation, had been walking the room, his arms folded, 
 to and fro, but had narrowly watched Esther du- 
 ring this appeal, and, when she announced her opin- 
 ion, had turned disappointed away. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton now arose with a trifling apparent 
 vexation, and, taking Faith by the arm, she signified 
 her intention to retire to her own apartment. While 
 crossing the room, she said, " It is not often I quote 
 Scripture, as you all know ; because, as I have said 
 before, I hold a text from Scripture or a sample of 
 chints to be a deceptive kind of specimen ; but I 
 must say now, that I think the case of David, in eat-
 
 142 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ing the shew-bread instead of looking for manna, 
 upholds Hope Leslie in using the means the Lord 
 chose to place in her hands." 
 
 Having the last word is one of the tokens of vic- 
 tory, and the good lady, content with this, withdrew 
 from the field of discussion. Governor Winthrop re- 
 tired to his study. Hope followed him thither, and 
 begged a fev/ moments' audience, which was, of 
 course, readily granted. When the door was closed, 
 and he had seated himself, and placed a large arm- 
 chair for her, all the tranquillity which she had just 
 before so well sustained forsook her; she sunk, 
 trembling, on her knees, and was compelled to rest 
 her forehead on the governor's knee : he laid his 
 hand kindly on her head : " What does this mean ?" 
 he asked ; " I like it not, and it is not fitting that 
 any one should kneel in my house but for a holy 
 purpose : rise, Hope Leslie, and explain yourself; 
 rise, my child," he added, in a softened tone, for his 
 heart was touched with her distress ; " tyrants are 
 knelt to, and I trust I am none." 
 
 "No, indeed you are not," she replied, rising and 
 clasping her hands in earnest supplication ; " and 
 therefore I hope — nay, I believe — you will grant my 
 petition for our poor Indian friend." 
 
 " Well, be calm ; what of her ?" 
 
 " What of her ! Is she not, the generous crea- 
 ture, at this moment in your condemned dungeon ? 
 Is she not to be tried to-morrow, perhaps sentenced 
 to death ? and can I, the cause of bringing her into 
 this trouble, can I look calmly on 1"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 143 
 
 " Well, what would you have, young lady ?" 
 asked the governor, in a quiet manner, that damped 
 our heroine's hopes, though it did not abate her ar- 
 dour. 
 
 " I would have your warrant, sir," she replied, 
 boldly, *'for her release; her free passage to her 
 poor old father, if indeed he lives." 
 
 " You speak unadvisedly. Miss Leslie. I am no 
 king ; and I trust the Lord wall never send one in 
 wrath on his chosen people of the New World, as he 
 did on those of old. No, in truth, I am no king. 
 I have but one voice in the Commonwealth, and I 
 cannot grant pardons at pleasure j and, besides, on 
 what do you found your plea ?" 
 
 " On what !" exclaimed Hope. " On her merits 
 and rights." 
 
 " Methinks, my young friend, you have lost right 
 suddenly that humble tone that but now, in the par- 
 lour, graced you so well. I trusted that your light 
 afflictions and short sickness had tended to the edi- 
 fication of your spirit." 
 
 " I spoke then of myself, and humility became me ; 
 but surely you will permit me to speak courageously 
 of the noble Magawisca." 
 
 " There is some touch of reason in thy speech, 
 Hope Leslie," replied the governor, his hps almost 
 relaxing to a smile. " Sit down, child, and tell me 
 of these merits and rights, for I would be possessed 
 of everything in favour of this unhappy maiden." 
 
 " I have not to tell you, sir," said Hope, strug- 
 gling to speak in a dispassionate tone, " but only to
 
 144 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 remind you of what you were once the first to speak 
 of — the many obhgations of the Enghsh to the fam- 
 ily of Mononotto : a debt that has been but ill paid." 
 
 " That debt, I think, was cancelled by the dread- 
 ful massacre at Bethel." 
 
 " If it be so, there is another debt that never has 
 been, that scarce can be cancelled." 
 
 " Yes, I know to what you allude : it was a noble 
 action for a heathen savage ; and I marvel not that 
 my friend Fletcher should think it a title to our mer- 
 cy, or that young Mr. Everell, looking w4th a youth- 
 ful eye on this business, should deem it a claim on 
 our justice. They have both spoken much and often 
 to me, and it w^ere well if Everell Fletcher were con- 
 tent to leave this matter with those who have the 
 right to determine it." Hope perceived the govern- 
 or looked very significantly, and she apprehended 
 that he might think her intercession was instigated 
 by Everell. 
 
 " I have not seen Everell Fletcher," she said, " till 
 this evening, since we parted at the garden ; and you 
 will do both him and me the justice to believe I have 
 not now^ spoken at his bidding." 
 
 " I did not think it. I know thou art ever some- 
 what forward to speak the dictates of thy heart," he 
 continued, with a smile ; " but now let me caution 
 you both, especially Everell, not to stir in this mat- 
 ter ; any private interference w^ill but prejudice the 
 Pequod's cause. They have ever been a hateful 
 race to the English ; and as the old chief and his 
 daughter are accused, and I fear justly, of kindling
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 145 
 
 the enmity of the tribes against us, and attempting 
 to stir up a war that would lay our villages in ruins, 
 it will be difficult to make a private benefit out- 
 weigh such a public crime. At any rate, the pris- 
 oner must be tried for her life; afterward we may 
 consider if it be possible and suitable to grant her a 
 pardon." Hope rose to withdraw : the sanguine 
 hopes that had sustained her w^ere abated ; her hmbs 
 trembled, and her lips quivered as she turned to say 
 " good-night." The governor took her hand, and 
 said compassionately, " Be not thus disquieted, my 
 child ; cast thy care upon the Lord. He can bring 
 light out of this darkness." 
 
 " And He alone," she thought, as she slowly crept 
 to her room. A favourite from her birth, Hope had 
 been accustomed to the gratification of her w^ishes ; 
 innocent and moderate they had been ; but uniform 
 indulgence is not a favourable school, and our hero- 
 ine had now to learn, from that stern teacher, ex- 
 perience, that events and circumstances cannot be 
 moulded to individual wishes. She must sit down 
 and passively await the fate of Magawisca. " She 
 had done all she could do, and without any effect : 
 had she done all ?" While she still meditated on 
 this last clause of her thoughts, Esther entered the 
 room. Absorbed in her own revery, Hope did not, 
 at first, particularly notice her friend, and when she 
 did, she saw that she appeared much disturbed. 
 Esther, after opening and shutting drawers and cup- 
 boards, and seeking by these little devices to con- 
 ceal or subdue her agitation, found all unavailing, 
 
 Vol. II.— N
 
 146 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and, throwing herself in a chair, she gave way io 
 hysterical sobbings. 
 
 This, in almost any young lady, would have been 
 a common expression of romantic distress ; but in 
 the disciplined, circumspect Esther, uncontrolled, 
 emotion was as alarming, to compare small things 
 to great, as if a planet were to start from its orbit. 
 
 Hope hastened to her, and, folding her arms around 
 her tenderly, inquired what could thus distress her. 
 Esther disengaged herself from her friend, and turn- 
 ed her face from her. 
 
 " I cannot bear this," said Hope ; " I can bear 
 anything better than this : are you displeased with 
 me, Esther ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am displeased with you — with myself — 
 with everybody : I am miserable." 
 
 " What do you mean, Esther ? I have done no- 
 thing to offend, you ; for pity's sake tell me what you 
 mean ? I have never had a feeling or thought that 
 should offend you." 
 
 " You have most cruelly, fatally injured me, Hope 
 Leslie." 
 
 " Here is some wretched mistake," cried Hope ; 
 " for Heaven's sake explain, Esther : if I had injured 
 you knowingly, I. should be of all creatures most 
 guilty ; but I have not. If I have innocently injured 
 you, speak, my dear friend, I beseech you," she add- 
 ed, again putting her arm around Esther ; " have not 
 you yourself, a thousand times, said there should be 
 no disguises with friends — no untold suspicions — no 
 unexplained mysteries 1"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 147 
 
 Again Esther repressed Hope. " I have been un- 
 fairly dealt by," she said. " I have been treated as 
 a child." 
 
 "How — when — w^here — by whom?" demanded 
 Hope, impetuously. 
 
 " Ask me no questions now, Hope. I will answer 
 none. I will no longer be played upon." 
 
 " Oh, Esther, you are cruel," said Hope, bui^ting 
 into teai^. " You are the one friend that I have lov- 
 ed gratefully, devotedly, disinterestedly, and I can- 
 not bear this." 
 
 There was a pause of half an hour, during which 
 Esther sat with her face covered with her handker- 
 chief, and sobbing violently, while Hope walked up 
 and down the room, her tender heart penetrated to 
 the very core with sorrow, and her mind perplexed 
 with endless conjectures about the cause of her friend's 
 emotions. 
 
 She sometimes approached near the truth, but that 
 way she could not bear to look. At last Esther be- 
 came quiet, and Hope ventured once more to ap- 
 proach her, and leaned over her without speaking. 
 Esther rose from her chair, knelt down, and drew 
 Hope down beside her, and in a low, but perfectly 
 firm voice, supplicated for grace to resist engrossing 
 passion and selfish affections. She prayed they might 
 both be assisted from above, so that their mutual for- 
 giveness and mutual love might be perfected, and is- 
 sue in a friendship which should be a foretaste of 
 Heaven. She then rose and folded her arms around 
 hfir friend, saying, " I have given way to my sinful
 
 148 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 nature, but I feel already an earnest of returning 
 peace. Do not say anything to me now, Hope ; the 
 future will explain all." 
 
 There was an authority in her manner that Hope 
 could not, and did not wish to resist. " If you speak 
 to me so, Esther," she said, " I would obey you, even 
 though it were possible obedience should be more 
 difficult. Now we will go to bed, and forget all this 
 w^earisome evening ; but first kiss me, and tell me 
 you love me as well as ever." 
 
 " I do," she replied ; but her voice faltered ; and, 
 governed by the strictest law of truth, she changed 
 her form of expression : " I mean that I shall again 
 love you as w^ell — I trust, better than ever ; be con- 
 tent with this for the present, Hope, and try me no 
 farther." 
 
 Once, while they were undressing, Esther said, 
 but without any emotion in her voice — her face was 
 averted from Hope — " Everell has been proposing to 
 me to assist him in a clandestine attempt to get Mag- 
 awisca out of prison." 
 
 " To get her out !" exclaimed Hope, with the 
 greatest animation : " to-night ?" 
 
 " To-night or to-morrow night." 
 
 " And is there any hope of effecting it ?" 
 
 " I thought it not right for me to undertake it," 
 Esther replied, in the same tone, quite calm, but so 
 deliberate that Hope detected the effort with which 
 she spoke, and dared not venture another question. 
 
 They both went to bed, but not to sleep ; mutual 
 and secret anxieties kept them for a long time rest-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 149 
 
 less, and a strange feeling of embarrassment, as dis- 
 tant as the width of their bed would allow ; but, final- 
 ly, Hope, as if she could no longer bear this estrange- 
 ment, nestled close to Esther, folded her arms around 
 her, and fell asleep on her bosom. 
 
 Madam Winthrop had very considerately, in the 
 course of the evening, left Everell and her niece alone 
 together ; and he had availed himself of this first op- 
 portunity of private communication to inform her 
 that, after being frustrated in all his efforts for Mag- 
 awisca's rescue, he had at length devised a plan 
 which only w^anted her co-operation to ensure it suc- 
 cess. Her agency would certainly, he believed, not 
 be detected ; and, at any rate, could not involve her 
 in any disagreeable consequences. 
 
 " Any consequences to herself," Esther said, " she 
 would not fear." Everell assured her that he was 
 certain she would not ; but he was anxious she 
 should see he would not expose her to any, even to 
 attain an object for which he would risk or sacrifice 
 his own life. He then went on eagerly to detail his 
 plan of operations, till Esther summoned courage 
 to interrupt him. Perhaps there is not on earth a 
 more difficult duty than for a woman to place herself 
 in a disagreeable light before the man she truly loves. 
 Esther's affections were deep, fixed, and unpretend- 
 ing, capable of any effort or any sacrifice that was 
 not proscribed by religious loyalty ; but no earthly 
 consideration could have tempted her to weaver from 
 the strictest letter of her religious duty, as that duty 
 was interpreted by her conscience. It cost her se- 
 N 2
 
 150 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 vere struggles ; but, after several intimations which 
 Everell did not understand, she constrained herself 
 to say, " That she thought they had not Scripture 
 warrant for interfering between the prisoner and the 
 magistrates." 
 
 " Scripture warrant !" exclaimed Everell, with sur- 
 prise and vexation he could not conceal. " And are 
 you to do no act of mercy, or compassion, or justice, 
 for which you cannot quote a text from Scripture ?" 
 
 "Scripture hath abundant texts to authorize all 
 mercy, compassion, and justice, but we are not al- 
 ways the allowed judges of their application ; and 
 in the case before us we have an express rule, to 
 which, if we submit, we cannot err ; for thou well 
 knowest, Everell, we are commanded, in the first 
 epistle of Peter, second chapter, to ' Submit our- 
 selves to every ordinance of man, for the Lord's 
 sake : whether it be to the king, as supreme ; or 
 unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him 
 for the punishment of evil doers, and for the praise 
 of them that do well.' " 
 
 " But surely, Esther, there must be warrant, as 
 you call it, for sometimes resisting legitimate author- 
 ity, or all our friends in England would not be at 
 open war with their king. With such a precedent, 
 I should think the sternest conscience would permit 
 you to obey the generous impulses of nature, rather 
 than to render this slavish obedience to the letter of 
 the law." 
 
 " Oh, Everell ! do not seek to blind my judgment. 
 Our friends at home are men who do all things in
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 151 
 
 the fear of the Lord, and are, therefore, doubtless 
 guided by the hght of Scripture and the inward tes- 
 timony. But they cannot be a rule for us in any 
 measure; and for me, Everell, it would be to sin 
 presumptuously, to do aught in any way to counter- 
 vail the authority of those chosen servants of the 
 Lord whose magistracy we are privileged to live 
 under." 
 
 Everell tried all argument and persuasion to sub- 
 due her scruples, but in vain ; she had some text or 
 some unquestioned rule of duty to oppose to every 
 reason and entreaty. 
 
 To an ardent young man, there is something un- 
 lovely, if not revolting, in the sterner virtues, and 
 particularly when they oppose those objects which 
 he may feel to be authorized by the most generous 
 emotions of his heart. Everell did not mean to be 
 unjust to Esther — his words were measured and loyal 
 — but he felt a deep conviction that there w^as a pain- 
 ful discord between them ; that there was, to use the 
 modern German term, no elective alTinity. In the 
 course of their conversation, he said, " You would 
 not, you could not, thus resist my wishes if you knew 
 Magawisca." 
 
 " Everell," she replied, " those who love you need 
 not know this maiden to feel that they would save 
 her life at the expense of their owm, if they might do 
 it j" and then, blushing at what she feared might 
 seem an empty boast, she added, " but I do know 
 Magawisca ; I have visited her in her prison every 
 day since she has been there."
 
 1,52 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " God bless you for that, Esther ; but why did 
 you not tell me V 
 
 " Because my uncle only permitted me access to 
 her on condition that I kept it a secret from you." 
 
 " Methinks that prohibition was as useless as 
 cruel." 
 
 " No, Everell ; my uncle doubtless anticipated 
 such applications as you have made to-night, and 
 he was right to guard me from temptation." 
 
 " He might securely have trusted you to resist it," 
 thought Everell. But he tried to suppress the un- 
 kind feeling, and asked Esther " if she had any mo- 
 tive in visiting Magawisca thus often, beyond the 
 gratification of her compassionate disposition." 
 
 " Yes," replied Esther ; " I heard my uncle say, 
 that if Magawisca could be induced to renounce her 
 heathenish principles, and promise, instead of follow- 
 ing her father to the forest, to remain here and join 
 the catechized Indians, he thought the magistrates 
 might see it to be their duty to overlook her past 
 misdemeanours, and grant her Christian privileges." 
 Esther paused for a moment, but Everell made no 
 comment, and she proceeded, in a tone of the deep- 
 est humility : " I knew I was a poor instrument, but 
 I hoped a blessing on the prayer of faith and the la- 
 bour of love. I set before her her temporal and her 
 eternal interest — life and death. I prayed with 
 her — I exhorted her ; but oh I Everell, she is obdu- 
 rate ; she neither fears death, nor will believe that 
 eternal misery awaits her after death !" 
 
 To Esther's astonishment, Everell, though he
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 153 
 
 looked troubled, neither expressed surprise nor dis- 
 appointment at the result of her labours, but imme- 
 diately set before her the obvious inference from it. 
 " You see, yourself," he said, " by your own expe- 
 rience, there is but one way of aiding Magawisca." 
 
 " It is unkind of you, Everell," she replied, with 
 a trembling voice, " to press me farther ; that way, 
 you know, my path is hedged up ;" and, without 
 saying anything more, she abruptly left the room; 
 but she had scarcely passed the threshold of the 
 door, when her gentle heart reproached her with 
 harshness, and she turned to soften her final refusal. 
 Everell did not hear her returning footsteps ; he 
 stood wdth his back to the door, and Esther heard 
 him make this involuntary apostrophe : " Oh, Hope 
 Leslie ! how thy unfettered soul would have answer- 
 ed such an appeal ! why has fate cruelly severed 
 us?" 
 
 Esther escaped hastily, and without his observa- 
 tion ; and the scene already described in the apart- 
 ment of the young ladies ensued. 
 
 Everell Fletcher must not be reproached with be- 
 ing a disloyal knight. The artifices of Sir Philip 
 Gardiner ; the false light in which our heroine had 
 been placed by her embarrassments wnth Magawis- 
 ca ; the innocent manoeuvring of Madam Winthrop ; 
 and, finally, the generous rashness of Hope Leslie, 
 had led him, step by step, to involve himself in an 
 engagement with Miss Downing ; that engagement 
 had just been made known to her protectors, and 
 ratified by them, when the denouement of the mys-
 
 154 IIOrE LESLIE. 
 
 terious rendezvous at the garden explained his fatal 
 mistake. When he recurred to all that had passed 
 since his first meeting with Hope Leslie, and partic- 
 ularly to their last interview at the garden, when he 
 had imputed her uncontrollable emotion to her sensi- 
 bility in relation to Sir Philip, he had reason to be- 
 lieve he was beloved by the only being he had ever 
 loved. But in what cruel circumstance did this dis- 
 covery find him ! His troth plighted to one whose 
 pure and tender heart he had long possessed. There 
 was but one honourable course for him to pursue, 
 and on that he firmly resolved : to avoid the pres- 
 ence of Hope Leslie ; to break the chain of aflfection 
 wrought in youth and riveted in manhood, and whose 
 links seemed to him to encompass and sustain his 
 very life ; in fine, to forget the past : but, alas ! who 
 can convert to Lethe the sweetest draughts of 
 memory ? 
 
 Hope's dangerous illness had suspended all his 
 purposes ; he could not disguise his interest ; and, 
 indeed, its manifestations excited neither surprise 
 nor remark, for it seemed sufficiently accounted for 
 by their long and intimate association. While 
 Hope's life w^as in peril, even Magawisca was for- 
 gotten ; but the moment Hope's convalescence re- 
 stored the use of his faculties, they were all devoted 
 to obtaining Magawisca's release, and he had left 
 no means untried, either of open intercession or 
 clandestine effort 3 but all, as yet, was without effect.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 155 
 
 CHAPTER \1II. 
 
 " What trick, what device, what startiiig hole canst thou now find 
 out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ?'•' — Henry IV. 
 
 The day appointed for Magawisca's trial arose 
 on Boston one of the brightest and most beautiful 
 of summer. There are moments of deep dejection 
 and gloom in every one's experience, when the eye 
 closes against the beauty of light, when the silence 
 of all those great powers that surround us presses on 
 the soul like the indifference of a friend, and when 
 their evolving glories overpower the wearied spirit, 
 as the splendours of the sun offend the sick eye. In 
 this diseased state of mind, Everell wandered about 
 Boston till the ringing of the bell, the appointed 
 signal, gave notice that the court was about to open 
 for the trial of the Indian prisoner. He then turned 
 his footsteps towards the house where the sittings of 
 the magistrates were held y and on reaching it, he 
 found a crowd had already assembled in the room 
 assigned for the trial. 
 
 At one extremity of the apartment was a platform 
 of two or three feet elevation, on which sat the dep- 
 uties and magistrates who constituted the court, and 
 those elders who had, as was customary on sim- 
 ilar occasions, been invited to be present as ads'isory 
 counsel. The New-England people have always
 
 156 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 evinced a fondness for asking advice, which may, 
 perhaps, be explained by the freedom with which it 
 is rejected. A few seats were provided for those 
 who might have claims to be selected from the ordi- 
 nary spectators ; two of these were occupied by the 
 elder Fletcher and Sir Philip Gardiner. Everell re- 
 mained amid the multitude unnoticed and unnoti- 
 cing, his eye roving about in that vague and inex- 
 pressive manner that indicates the mind holds no com- 
 munion with external objects, till he was roused by 
 a buzz of " There she comes !" and a call of " Make 
 room for the prisoner." A lane was opened, and 
 Magawisca appeared, preceded and followed by a 
 constable. A man of middle age walked beside 
 her, whose deep-set and thoughtful eye, pale brow, 
 ascetic complexion, and spare person, indicated a life 
 of self-denial, and of physical and mental labour; 
 while an expression of love, compassion, and benev- 
 olence seemed, like the seal of his Creator, affixed 
 to declare him a minister of mercy to his creatures. 
 Everell was struck with the aspect and position of 
 the stranger, and inquired of the person standing* 
 next to him " who he was." 
 
 The man turned on him a look of astonishment 
 which expressed, " Who are you that ask so strange 
 a question ?' and replied, " That gentleman, sir, is 
 the ' apostle of New-England,' though it much of- 
 fendeth his modesty to be so called." 
 
 " God be praised !" thought Everell. " Eliot" (for 
 he was familiar with the title, though not with the 
 person of th^t excellent man), " my father's friend ! 
 This augurs well for Magawisca."
 
 , HOPE LESLIE. 157 
 
 " I marvel," continued his informant, " that Mr. 
 EUot should in this manner lend his countenance 
 to this Jezebel, See with what an air she comes 
 among her betters, as if she were queen of us all." 
 
 There was certainly none of the culprit or suiter 
 in the aspect of Magawisca : neither guilt, nor fear- 
 fulness, nor submission. Her eyes w^ere downcast, 
 but with the modesty of her sex ; her erect attitude, 
 her free and lofty tread, and the perfect composure 
 of her countenance, all expressed the courage and 
 dignity of her soul. Her national pride was mani- 
 fest in the care with which, after rejecting with dis- 
 dain the governor's offer of an English dress, she had 
 attired herself in the peculiar costume of her people. 
 Her collar, bracelet, girdle, embroidered moccasins, 
 and purple mantle, with its rich border of bead work, 
 had been laid aside in prison, but were now all re- 
 sumed, and displayed with a feeling resembling Nel- 
 son's, when he emblazoned himself with stars and or- 
 ders to appear before his enemies on the fatal day 
 of his last battle. 
 
 The constable led her to the prisoner's bar. There 
 was a slight convulsion of her face perceptible as 
 she entered it ; and when her attendant signed to her 
 to seat herself, she shook her head, and remained 
 standing. Everell, moved by an irresistible impulse, 
 forced his way through the crowd, and placed him- 
 self beside her. Neither spoke ; but the sudden flush 
 of a sunbeam on the October leaf is not more bright 
 nor beautiful than the colour that overspread Maga- 
 wisca's olive cheek. This speaking suffusion, and 
 
 Vol. it.—
 
 158 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the tear that trembled on her eyelids, but no other 
 sign, expressed her consciousness of his presence. 
 The magistrates looked at Everell, and whispered 
 together, but they appeared to come to the conclu- 
 sion that this expression of his feeling was natural 
 and harmless, and it was suffered to pass unrepro- 
 ved. 
 
 The governor, as chief magistrate, now rose, and 
 requested Mr. Eliot to supplicate Divine assistance in 
 the matter they were about to enter on. The good 
 man accordingly performed the duty with earnest- 
 ness and particularity. He first set forth the wonder- 
 working providence of God in making their enemies 
 to be at peace with them. He recounted, in the 
 narrative style, then much used in public devotions, 
 the various occasions on which they had found their 
 fears of the savages groundless, and their alarms un- 
 founded. He touched on divers instances of " kind- 
 ness and neighbourlike conduct that had been shown 
 them by the poor heathen people, who, having no 
 law, were a law unto themselves." He intimated 
 that the Lord's chosen people had not now, as of old, 
 been selected to exterminate the heathen, but to en- 
 large the bounds of God's heritage, and to convert 
 these strangers and aliens to servants and children of 
 the Most High. He alluded to the well-known and 
 signal mercies received from the mother of the pris- 
 oner, and to that valiant act of the prisoner herself, 
 whereby she did redeem from death, and captivity 
 worse than death, the child — the only child — of a 
 sorelv-bereaved man. He hinted at the authorities
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 159 
 
 for the merciful requital of these deeds in the prom- 
 ises of the spies of Joshua to the heathen woman of 
 Jericho, that when the Lord had given them the 
 land, they w^ould deal truly with her, and show kind- 
 ness to her and to her father's house ; and in the case 
 of David's generosity to Mephibosheth, the son of 
 Jonathan, the son of Saul, wherein he passed by the 
 evil that Saul had done him, and only remembered 
 the favours of Jonathan. He alluded to the ruined 
 chief — the old father on whom " the executed wrath 
 of God had fallen so heavily, that, as divers testified, 
 the light of reason was quite put out, and he was 
 left to wander up and down among the tribes, coun- 
 selling revenges to which none listened." And, 
 finally, he dwelt on " the Gospel spirit of forgiveness 
 as eminently becoming those who, being set on a hill 
 in the wilderness, were to show their light to the 
 surrounding nations," and concluded with the prayer 
 that, on this occasion, Justice and Mercy might be 
 made publicly to kiss each other. 
 
 When he had done, all eyes turned again on 
 Magawisca ; and many who had regarded her with 
 scorn, or, at best, idle curiosity, now looked at her 
 with softened hearts and moistened eyes. Not so Sir 
 Philip, who had his own reasons for being appre- 
 hensive of any advance Magawisca might make in 
 the favour of her judges. He whispered to a magis- 
 trate near whom he sat, " Is it not a singular proce- 
 dure thus to convert a prayer into an ex 'parte state- 
 ment of the case ?" 
 
 " Very singular," replied the good man, with an
 
 160 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ominous shake of the head ; " but Brother EUot hath 
 an overweening kindness towards the barbarians. 
 We shall set all right," he added, with one of those 
 sagacious nods so expressive of infallibility. The 
 governor now proceeded to give an outline of the 
 charges against Magawisca, and the testimony that 
 would be adduced to support them. He suppressed 
 nothing, but gave a colour to the whole which plain- 
 ly indicated his own favourable disposition ; and 
 Everell felt lightened of half his fears. Sir Philip 
 was then requested to relate the circumstances that 
 had, through his instrumentality, led to the taking of 
 the prisoner, and so much of the conversation he had 
 heard between her and Miss Leslie as might serve to 
 elucidate the testimony of the Indian, who had pre- 
 tended, by his information, to reveal a direful con- 
 spiracy. Sir Philip rose ; and Magawisca, for the 
 first time, raised her eyes and fixed them on himj 
 his met hers, and he quailed before her glance. As 
 if to test the power of conscience still farther, at this 
 critical moment his unhappy page, poor Rosa, press- 
 ed through the crowd, and, giving Sir Philip a packet 
 of letters just arrived from England, she seated her- 
 self on the steps of the platform near where the 
 knight stood. 
 
 Sir Philip threw the packet on the table before the 
 governor, and stood for a few moments silent, with 
 his eyes downcast, in profound meditation. The trial 
 was assuming an unexpected and startling aspect. 
 Sir Philip now feared he had counted too far on the 
 popular prejudices, which he knew were arrayed
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 161 
 
 against Magawisca, as one of the diabolical race of 
 the Pequods. He perceived that all the weight of 
 Eliot's influence would be thrown into the prisoner's 
 scale, and that the governor was disposed, not only 
 to an impartial, but to a merciful investigation of her 
 case. 
 
 Reposing confidently on the extraordinary favour 
 that had been manifested towards him by the magis- 
 trates, he had felt certain of being able to prevent 
 Magawisca's disclosure of their interview in the pris- 
 on, or to avert any evil consequence to himself, by 
 giving it the air of a malignant contrivance, to be ex- 
 pected from a vengeful savage, against one who had 
 been the providential instrument of her detection. 
 But he now felt that this might be a difficult task. 
 
 He had at first, as has been seen, enlisted against 
 Magawisca, not from any malignant feeling towards 
 her, but merely to advance his own private interests. 
 In the progress of the afl^air, his fate had, by his own 
 act, become singularly involved with hers. Should 
 she be acquitted, he might be impeached, perhaps 
 exposed and condemned, by her testimony. Allian- 
 ces like his with Rosa were, by the laws of the col- 
 ony, punished by severe penalties. These would be 
 aggravated by the discovery of his imposture. At 
 once perceiving all his danger, he mentally cursed 
 the foolhardiness with which he had rushed, unne- 
 cessarily and unwittingly, to the brink of a precipice. 
 
 He had observed Magawisca's scrutinizing eye 
 turn quickly from him to Rosa, and he was sure, 
 from her intelligent glances, that she had at once 
 O 2
 
 162 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 come to the conclusion that this seeming page was 
 the subject of their prison interview. Rosa herself 
 appeared, to his alarmed imagination, to be sent by 
 Heaven as a witness against him. How was he to 
 escape the dangers that encompassed him 1 He had 
 no time to deliberate on the most prudent course to 
 be pursued. The most obvious was to inflame the 
 prejudices of Magawisca's judges, and by anticipa- 
 tion to discredit her testimony ; and quick of inven- 
 tion, and unembarrassed by the instincts of humanity, 
 he proceeded, after faithfully relating the conversa- 
 tion in the churchyard between the prisoner and 
 Miss Leslie, to detail the following gratuitous par- 
 ticularSo 
 
 He said " that, after conducting Miss Leslie to the 
 governor's door, he had immediately returned to his 
 own lodgings, and that, induced by the still raging 
 storm to make his walk as short as possible, he took 
 a cross-cut through the burial ground ; that, on com- 
 ing near the upper extremity of the enclosure, he 
 fancied he heard a human voice mingling w^ith the 
 din of the storm ; that he paused, and directly a flash 
 of lightning discovered Magawisca kneeling on the 
 bare wet earth, making those monstrous and violent 
 contortions, which all w^ho heard him well knew 
 characterized the devil-worship of the powwows; 
 he would not, he ought not repeat to Christian ears 
 her invocations to the Evil One to aid her in the exe- 
 cution of her revenge on the English ; nor would he 
 more particularly describe her diabolical writhings 
 and beatings of her person. His brethren might
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 163 
 
 easily imagine his emotions at witnessing them by 
 the sulphureous gleams of lightning, on which, doubt- 
 less, her prayers were sped." 
 
 Sir Philip had gained confidence as he proceeded 
 in his testimony, for he perceived by the fearful and 
 angry glances that were cast on the prisoner, that 
 his tale was credited by many of his audience, and 
 he hoped by all. 
 
 The notion that the Indians were the children of 
 the devil was not confined to the vulgar ; and the 
 belief in a familiar intercourse wdth evil spirits, now 
 rejected by all but the most ignorant and credulous, 
 was then universally received. 
 
 All had, therefore, listened in respectful silence to 
 Sir Philip's extraordinary testimony, and it was too 
 evident that it had the effect to set the current of 
 feeling and opinion against the prisoner. Her few 
 friends looked despondent; but for herself, true to 
 the spirit of her race, she manifested no surprise nor 
 emotion of any kind. 
 
 The audience listened eagerly to the magistrate, 
 who read from his note-book the particulars which 
 had been received from the Indian informer, and 
 which served to corroborate and illustrate Sir Phil- 
 ip's testimony. All the evidence being now before 
 the court, the governor asked Magawisca " if she 
 had aught to allege in her own defence.'^ 
 
 '' Speak humbly, maiden," whispered Mr. Eliot ; 
 " it will grace thy cause with thy judges." 
 
 " Say," said Everell, " that you are a stranger to 
 our laws and usages, and demand some one to speak 
 for you."
 
 164 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Magawisca bowed her head to both advisers, in 
 token of acknowledgment of their interest, and then, 
 raising her eyes to her judges, she said, *' I am your 
 prisoner, and ye may slay me, but I deny your right 
 to judge me. My people have never passed under 
 your yoke; not one of my race has ever acknowl- 
 edged your authority." 
 
 " This excuse will not suffice thee," answered one 
 of her judges ; " thy pride is like the image of Neb- 
 uchadnezzar's dream — it standeth on feet of clay : 
 thy race have been swift witnesses to that sure word 
 of prophecy, * Fear thou not, Jacob, my servant, 
 for I am with thee, and I will make a full end of the 
 people whither I have driven thee;' thy people! 
 truly, where are they 1" 
 
 " My people ! where are they ?" she replied, rais- 
 ing her eyes to Heaven, and speaking in a voice that 
 sounded like deep-toned music after the harsh tones 
 addressed to her ; " my people are gone to the isles 
 of the sweet southwest — to those shores that the bark 
 of an enemy can never touch : think ye I fear to 
 follow them ?" 
 
 There was a momentary silence throughout the 
 assembly ; all seemed, for an instant, to feel that no 
 human power could touch the spirit of the captive. 
 Sir Philip whispered to the magistrate who last 
 spoke, " Is it not awful presumption for this woman 
 thus pubhcly to glory in her heathen notions ?" 
 
 The knight's prompting had the intended effect. 
 " Has this Pequod woman," demanded the magis- 
 trate, " never been instructed in the principles of
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 165 
 
 truth, that she dares thus to hold forth her heathen- 
 isms before us "? Dost thou not know, woman," he 
 continued, holding up a Bible, " that this book con- 
 tains the only revelation of a future world — the only 
 rule for the present life 1" 
 
 " I know," she replied, " that it contains thy rule, 
 and it may be needful for thy mixed race -, but the 
 Great Spirit hath written his laws on the hearts of 
 his original children, and we need it not." 
 
 " She is of Satan's heritage, and our enemy — a 
 proved conspirator against the peace of God's peo- 
 ple, and I see not why she should not be cut off," 
 said the same gentleman, addressing his brethren in 
 office. 
 
 " The testimony," said another of the magistrates, 
 in a low voice, in which reason and mildness min- 
 gled, and truly indicated the disposition of th.e speak- 
 er, " the testimony appeareth to me insufficient to 
 give peace to our consciences in bringing her to ex- 
 tremity. She seems, after her own manner, to be 
 guided by the truth. Let the governor put it to her 
 whether she will confess the charges laid against 
 her." 
 
 The governor accordingly appealed to the prison- 
 er. "I neither confess nor deny aught," she said. 
 " I stand here like a deer caught in a thicket, await- 
 ing the arrow of the hunter." 
 
 Sir Philip again whispered to his next neighbour, 
 who, unconsciously obeying the knight's crafty sug- 
 gestions, seemed to have become the conductor of 
 the prosecution. " She hath the dogged obstinacy of
 
 166 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 all the Pequod race," said he, " and it hath long been 
 my opinion that we should never have peace in the 
 land till their last root was torn from the soil." 
 
 "You may be right, brother," replied the govern- 
 or, " but it becometh us, as Christian men, to walk 
 circumspectly in this matter :" then, opening a note- 
 book, elevating his voice, and turning to the knight, 
 he added, " I observe that your present testimony, 
 Sir Philip, hath not kept equal pace with that taken 
 down from your lips on a former occasion. I have 
 looked over these memoranda with a careful eye, 
 and I do not perceive even an intimation of your 
 having seen the prisoner after parting with Hope 
 Leslie." 
 
 The knight had anticipated this scrutiny, and was 
 prepared to answer it : " I was not upon oath then," 
 he replied, " and, of course, was not required to dis- 
 close the whole truth ; and, besides, it was then, as 
 your excellency may remember, doubtful whether 
 the prisoner would be taken, and I was reluctant 
 to magnify, unnecessarily, the apprehensions of the 
 paternal guardians of the people." 
 
 Though this insinuated compliment w^as enforced 
 by a deferential bow to the governor, he passed it 
 over, and replied to the first clause of Sir Philip's re- 
 joinder : " You allege, Sir Philip Gardiner, that you 
 were not then on oath — neither have you been now ; 
 w^o not require a member of the congregation to 
 take the oath, unless charged by the party against 
 >^_whom he testifies. What say est thou, maiden : shall 
 I administer the oath to him ?"
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 167 
 
 " Certainly — require the oath of him," whispered 
 Everell to Magawisca. 
 
 Magawisca bowed her assent to the governor. 
 
 Sir Phihp would not probably have been so prompt 
 in his false testimony if he had anticipated being 
 put on his oath ; for he was far enough from having 
 one of those religious consciences that regard truth 
 as so sacred that no ceremonies can add to its au- 
 thority. But now, his word being questioned, it be- 
 came necessary for him to recede from it, or to main- 
 tain it in the usual legal form ; and, without hesita- 
 ting, he advanced to the table, raised his hand, and 
 went through the customary form of the oath. The 
 coUectedness and perfect equanimity of Magawisca, 
 to this moment, had seemed to approach to indiffer- 
 ence to her fate ; but the persevering falsehood of 
 Sir Philip, and the implicit faith in which it was ap- 
 parently received, now roused her spirit, and stimu- 
 lated that principle of retaliation, deeply planted in 
 the nature of every human being, and rendered a 
 virtue by savage education. She took a crucifix 
 from her bosom : Everell whispered, " I pray thee 
 hide that, Magawisca ', it will ruin thy cause." Mag- 
 awisca shook her head, and held up the crucifix. 
 
 "Put down that idolatrous sign," said the gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 " She hath doubtless fallen under popish enchant- 
 ments," whispered one of the deputies ; " the French ■ 
 priests have spread their nets throughout the western 
 forests." 
 
 Magawisca, without heeding the governor's com-
 
 168 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 mand, or observing the stares of astonishment that 
 her seeming hardihood drew upon her, addressed 
 herself to Sir Phihp : " This crucifix," she said, " thou 
 didst drop in my prison. If, as thou saidst, it is a 
 charmed figure, that hath power to keep thee in the 
 straight path of truth, then press it to thy hps now, 
 as thou didst then, and take back the false words 
 thou hast spoken against me." 
 
 "What doth she meani" asked the governor, 
 turning to Sir Philip. 
 
 " I know not," replied the knight, his reddening 
 face and embarrassed utterance indicating he knew 
 that which he dared not confess ; " I know not ; but 
 I should marvel if this heathen savage were permit- 
 ted, with impunity, to insult me in your open court. 
 I call upon the honourable magistrates and deputies," 
 he continued, with a more assured air, " to impose 
 silence on this woman, lest her uttered malignities 
 should, in the minds of the good people here assem- 
 bled, bring scandal upon one whose humble claims 
 to fellowship with you you have yourselves sanc- 
 tioned." 
 
 The court were for a moment silent; every eye 
 was turned towards Magawisca, in the hope that she 
 would be suffered to make an explanation ; and the 
 emotions of curiosity coinciding with the dictates of 
 justice in the bosoms of the sage judges themselves, 
 wiJre very likely to counteract the favour any of them 
 might have felt for Sir Philip. Everell rose to ap- 
 peal to the court to permit Magawisca to invalidate, 
 as far as she was able, the testimony against her ; but
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 169 
 
 Mr. Eliot laid his hand on his arm, and withheld 
 him. " Stay, my young friend," he whispered ; " I 
 may speak more acceptably." Then, addressing the 
 court, he "prayed the prisoner might be allow^ed 
 liberty to speak freely, alleging it w^as for the wis- 
 dom of her judges to determine what weight was to 
 be attached to her testimony 3" ?.nd, glancing his eye 
 at Sir Philip, he added, " The upright need not fear 
 the light of truth." 
 
 Sir Philip again remonstrated ; he asked " why 
 the prisoner should be permitted farther to offend the 
 consciences of the godly ? Surely," he said, " none 
 of her judges would enforce her demand ; surely, 
 having just sworn before them in the prescribed form, 
 they would not require him to repeat his oath on that 
 symbol of Popish faith, that had been just styled an 
 idolatrous sign." 
 
 "This, I think, Brother Eliot, is not what thou 
 wouldst ask ?" said Governor Winthrop. 
 
 " Nay, God forbid that I should bring such scan- 
 dal upon our land. It is true, I have known many 
 misguided sons of the Romish Church who would 
 swear freely on the Holy Word what they dared not 
 verify on the crucifix; which abundantly showeth 
 that superstition is, with such, stronger than faith. 
 But we, I think, have no warrant for using such a 
 test, neither do w^e need it. The prisoner hath as- 
 serted that this symbol belongeth to Sir Philip Gar- 
 diner, and that he did use it to fortify his word ; if 
 so, the credit of his present testimony would be main- 
 ly altered ; and it seemeth to me but just that the 
 
 Vol. IL— P
 
 170 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 prisoner should not only be allowed, but required to 
 state in full that to which she hath but alluded." 
 
 A whispered consultation of the magistrates fol- 
 lowed this proposition, during which Sir Philip 
 seemed virtually to have changed places with the 
 prisoner, and appeared as agitated as if he were on 
 the verge of condemnation : his brow was knit, his 
 lips compressed, and his eye, whose movement 
 seemed beyond his control, flashed from the bench 
 of magistrates to Magawisca, and then fixed on 
 Rosa, as if he would fain have put annihilation in its 
 glance. This unhappy girl still sat where she had 
 first seated herself; she had taken otf her hat, laid it 
 on her lap, and rested her face upon it. 
 
 There was a vehement remonstrance from some of 
 the members of the court against permitting the 
 prisoner to criminate one who had shown himself 
 well and zealously affected towards them. And it 
 was urged, with some plausibility, that the hints she 
 had received of the advantage to be gained by dis- 
 qualifying Sir Philip, would tempt her to contrive 
 some crafty tale that might do him a wrong which 
 they could not repair. The governor answered this 
 argument by suggesting that they, being forewarned, 
 were forearmed, and might certainly rely on their own 
 sagacity to detect any imposture. Of course, no in- 
 dividual was forward to deny, for himself, such an 
 allegation, and the governor proceeded to request 
 Magawisca to state the circumstances to which she 
 alluded as having transpired in the prison. Maga- 
 wisca now, for the first time, appeared to hesitate, 
 to deliberate, and to feel embarrassed.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 171 
 
 " Why dost thou falter, woman ?" demanded one 
 of her judges ; "' no time shall be allowed now to 
 contrive a false testimony ; proceed — speak quick- 
 ly !" 
 
 " Fear not to speak, Magawisca," whispered Ev- 
 erell. 
 
 " I do fear to speak," she rephed aloud ; " but it 
 is such fear as he hath, who, seeing the prey in the 
 eagle's talons, is loath to hurl his arrow, lest, per- 
 chance, it should wound the innocent victim." 
 
 " Speak not in parables, Magawisca," said Gov- 
 ernor Winthrop, " but let us have thy meaning 
 plainly." 
 
 " Then," replied Magawisca, " let me first crave 
 of thy mercy that that poor youth (pointing to Rosa) 
 withdraw from this presence." 
 . All eyes were now directed to Rosa, who, herself 
 conscious that she had become the object of atten- 
 tion, raised her head, threw back the rich feminine 
 curls that drooped over her face, and looked wildly 
 around her. On every side her eye encountered 
 glances of curiosity and suspicion -, her colour deep- 
 ened, her lips quivered, and, like a bewildered, ter- 
 rified child, that instinctively flies to its mother's side, 
 she sprang up the steps, grasped Sir Philip's cloak 
 as if she w^ould have hidden herself in its folds, and 
 sunk dovvn at his feet. Sir Philip's passions had 
 risen to an uncontrollable pitch : " Off! boy," he 
 cried, spurning her with his foot. A murmur of 
 " Shame ! Cruelty !" ran through the house. The 
 unhappy girl rose to her feet, pressed both her hands
 
 172 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 on her forehead, stared vacantly about, as if her rea- 
 son were trembling on the verge of annihilation, then 
 darting forward, she penetrated through the crowd 
 and disappeared. 
 
 There were few persons present so dull as not to 
 have solved Magawisca's parable at the instant the 
 clew was given by Rosa's involuntary movements. 
 Still, all they had discovered was that the page was 
 a disguised girl ; and a hope darted on Sir Philip, in 
 the midst of his overwhelming confusion, that, if he 
 could gain time, he might escape the dangers that 
 menaced him. He rose, and with an effrontery that 
 with some passed for the innocence he would fain 
 have counterfeited, said " that circumstances had 
 just transpired in that honourable presence which 
 no doubt seemed mysterious ; that he could not then 
 explain them without uselessly exposing the unhap- 
 py ; for the same reason, namely, to avoid unneces- 
 sary suffering, he begged that no interrogatories 
 might at the present moment be put to the prisoner 
 in relation to the hints she had thrown out ; that, if 
 the governor would vouchsafe him a private inter- 
 view, he would, on the sure word of a Christian man, 
 clear up whatever suspicions had been excited by the 
 dark intimations of the prisoner, and the very singu- 
 lar conduct of his page." 
 
 The governor replied, with a severe gravity, omi- 
 nous to the knight, " That the circumstances he had 
 alluded to certainly required explanation ; if that 
 should not prove satisfactory, they would demand a 
 pubhc investigation. In the mean time, he should
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 173 
 
 suspend the trial of the prisoner, who, though the 
 decision of her case might not wholly depend on the 
 establishment of Sir Philip's testimony, was yet, at 
 present, materially affected by it. 
 
 " He expressed a deep regret at the interruption 
 that had occurred, as it must lead," he said, " to the 
 suspension of the justice to be manifested, either in 
 the acquittal or condemnation of the prisoner. Some 
 of the magistrates being called away from town on 
 the next morning, he found himself compelled to ad- 
 journ the sitting of the court till one month from the 
 present date." 
 
 " Then," said Magawisca, for the first time speak- 
 ing with a tone of impatience, " then, I pray you, 
 send me to death now. Anything is better than 
 wearing through another moon in my prison-house, 
 thinking," she added, and cast down her eyelids, 
 heavy wath tears, " thinking of that old man — my 
 father. I pray thee," she continued, bending low 
 her head, " I pray thee now to set me free. Wait 
 not for his testimony" — she pointed to Sir Philip : 
 " as well may ye expect the green herb to spring up 
 in your trodden streets, as the breath of truth to come 
 from his false lips. Do you wait for him to prove 
 that I am your enemy ? Take my own w^ord — I am 
 your enemy; the sunbeam and the shadow cannot 
 mingle. The white man cometh — the Indian van- 
 isheth. Can we grasp in friendship the hand raised 
 to strike us ? Nay : and it matters not whether we 
 fall by the tempest that lays the forest low, or are 
 cut down alone by the stroke of the axe. I would 
 P 2
 
 174 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 have thanked you for life and liberty ; for Mononot- 
 to's sake I would have thanked you ; but if ye send 
 me back to that dungeon — the grave of the living, 
 feeling, thinking soul, where the sun never shineth, 
 where the stars never rise nor set, where the free 
 breath of Heaven never enters, where all is darkness 
 without and within" — she pressed her hand on her 
 breast — " ye will even now condemn me to death, 
 but death more slow and terrible than your most 
 suffering captive ever endured from Indian fires and 
 knives." She paused ; passed unresisted without 
 the little railing that encompassed her, mounted the 
 steps of the platform, and, advancing to the feet of 
 the governor, threw back her mantle, and knelt be- 
 fore him. Her mutilated person, unveiled by this 
 action, appealed to the senses of the spectators. Ev- 
 erell involuntarily closed his eyes, and uttered a cry 
 of agony, lost, indeed, in the murmurs of the crowd. 
 She spoke, and all again w^ere as hushed as death. 
 " Thou didst promise," she said, addressing herself 
 to Governor Winthrop, " to my dying mother thou 
 didst promise kindness to her children. In her name, 
 I demand of thee death or liberty." 
 
 Everell sprang forward, and, clasping his hands, 
 exclaimed, ^' In the name of God, liberty !" 
 
 The feeling was contagious, and every voice, save 
 her judges, shouted " Liberty ! liberty 1 Grant the 
 prisoner liberty !" 
 
 The -governor rose, waved his hand to command 
 silence, and would have spoken, but his voice failed 
 him ; his heart was touched with the general emo-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 175 
 
 tion, and he was fain to turn away to hide tears 
 more becoming to the man than the magistrate. 
 
 The same gentleman who, throughout the trial, 
 had been most forward to speak, now rose — a man 
 of metal to resist any fire. " Are ye all fools, and 
 mad !" he cried ; " ye that are gathered here togeth- 
 er, that, like the men of old, ye shout ' Great is Diana 
 of the Ephesians !' For whom would you stop the 
 course of justice ? for one who is charged before you 
 with having visited every tribe on the shores and in 
 the forests, to quicken the savages to diabolical re- 
 venge ; for one who flouts the faith once delivered to 
 the saints to your very faces ! for one who hath en- 
 tered into an open league and confederacy with Sa- 
 tan against you ! for one who, as ye have testimony 
 w^ithin yourselves, in that her looks and words do so 
 prevail over your judgments, is presently aided and 
 abetted by the arch enemy of mankind — I call upon 
 you, my brethren," he added, turning to his associ- 
 ates, " and most especially on you, Governor Win- 
 throp, to put a sudden end to this confusion by the 
 formal adjournment of our court." 
 
 The governor bowed his assent. " Rise, Maga- 
 wisca," he said, in a voice of gentle authority ; " I 
 may not grant thy prayer ; but what I can do in re- 
 membrance of my solemn promise to thy dying moth- 
 er, without leaving undone higher duty, I will do." 
 
 " And what mortal can do, I will do," said Ever- 
 ell, whispering the words into Magawisca's ear as 
 she rose. The cloud of despondency that had settled 
 over her fine face for an instant vanished, and she
 
 176 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 said aloud, " Everell Fletcher, ray dungeon will not 
 be, as I said, quite dark, for thither I bear the mem- 
 ory of thy kindness." 
 
 Some of the magistrates seemed to regard this 
 slight interchange of expressions between the captive 
 and her champion as indecorous : the constables were 
 ordered immediately to perform their duty, by re- 
 conducting their prisoner to jail ; and Magawisca 
 was led out, leaving in the breasts of a great major- 
 ity of the audience a strange contrariety of opinion 
 and feelings : their reason, guided by the best lights 
 they possessed, deciding against her, the voice of 
 nature crying out for her. 
 
 Before the parties separated, the governor arranged 
 a private interview with Sir Philip Gardiner, to take 
 place at his own house immediately after dinner. 
 
 m
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 177 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ** Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, 
 Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree, 
 Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread, 
 And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me." 
 
 Burns. 
 
 At the period of our history, twelve o'clock was 
 the hour appointed for dinner: we believe in the 
 mother-country — certainly in the colony then, as 
 now, everywhere in the interior of our states, this 
 natural division of time was maintained. Our ma- 
 gistrates did not then claim any exemption from the 
 strict rules of simplicity and frugality that were im- 
 posed on the humble citizens, and Governor Win- 
 throp's meridian meal, though it might have been 
 somewhat superior in other luxuries, had no more of 
 the luxury of time bestowed on it than that of the 
 honest artisans and tradesmen about him. 
 
 In order to explain what fallows, it is necessary 
 to state to our readers, that adjoining the parlour of 
 Governor Winthrop's mansion was that sine qua non 
 of all thrifty housekeepers, an ample pantry. In the 
 door of this pantry was a glazed panel, over the par- 
 lour side of which hung a green curtain. The glass 
 had been broken, and not yet repaired; and, let 
 housewives take the admonition if they like, on this 
 slight accident depended life and death.
 
 178 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 The pantry, besides the door already described, had 
 another, which communicaled with the kitchen ; 
 through this Jennet (who in housewife skill resem- 
 bled the " neat-handed Phillis" of poetic fame, 
 though in other respects prosaic enough) had en- 
 tered to perform within the sanctum certain confi- 
 dential services for Madam Winthrop. 
 
 It now drew near the hour of two, the time ap- 
 pointed for the interview" of the governor with Sir 
 Philip ; the dinner was over, the table removed, and 
 all orderly and quiet in the parlour, w^hen Jennet, in 
 her retreat, heard Miss Leslie and Mr. Everell 
 Fletcher enter, and, though the weather w^as w^arm, 
 close the door after them. A slight hint is sufficient 
 for the wary and wise ; and Jennet, on hearing the 
 door shut, forbore to make any noise which should 
 apprize the parties of her proximity. 
 
 The young people, as if fearful of being overheard 
 "without, withdrew to the farthest extremity from the 
 entry door, and came into the corner adjoining the 
 pantry. They spoke, though in low tones, yet in 
 the most earnest and animated manner ; and Jennet, 
 tempted beyond wha^ she was able to bear, drew 
 nigh to the door with a cat's tread, and applied her 
 ear to the aperture, where the sounds were only 
 slightly obstructed by the silk curtain. 
 
 While speakers and listener stood in this interest- 
 ing relation to each other, Sir Philip Gardiner was 
 approaching the mansion, his bad mind filled with 
 projects, hopes, and fears. He had, after much pain- 
 ful study, framed the following story, which he hoped
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 179 
 
 to impose on the credulity of the governor, and, 
 through him, of the pubhc. His sole care was to 
 avoid present investigation and detection ; in navi- 
 gating a winding channel, he regarded only the dif- 
 ficulties directly before him. 
 
 He meant that, in the first place, by way of a coup 
 de grace, the governor should understand he had in- 
 tentionally acquiesced in the discovery of Rosa's dis- 
 guise. He would then, as honest Varney did, con- 
 fess there had been some love-passages between the 
 girl and himself in the days of his folly. He would 
 state that, subsequent to his conversion, he had pla- 
 ced her in a godly school in England, and that, to 
 his utter confusion, he had discovered, after he had 
 sailed from London, that she had, in the disguise she 
 still wore, secreted herself on board the ship. He 
 had, perhaps, felt too much indulgence for the girl's 
 youth and unconquerable affection for him ; but he 
 should hope that was not an unpardonable sin. He 
 had been restrained from divulging her real charac- 
 ter on shipboard, from his reluctance to expose her 
 youth to insult or farther temptation. On his arrival, 
 he w^as conscious it was a manifest duty to have de- 
 livered her over to the public authorities ; but pity — 
 pity still had ruled him. He scrupled — perhaps that 
 was a temptation of the enemy, who knew well to 
 assail the weakest points — he scrupled to give over 
 to public shame one, of whose transgressions he had 
 been the cause. Besides, she hsM been bred in 
 France — a Papist ; and he had hoped — trusting, per- 
 haps, too much in his own strength — that he might
 
 180 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 convert her from the error of her ways — snatch the 
 brand from the burning ; he had, indeed, felt a fa- 
 therly tenderness for her, and, weakly indulging that 
 sentiment, he had still, when he found her obstinate- 
 ly persisting in her errors, devised a plan to shelter 
 her from public punishment; and, in pursuance of 
 it, he had taken advantage of the opportunity afford- 
 ed him by his visit to Thomas Morton, to propose to 
 Magawisca that, in case she should obtain her liber- 
 ty from the clemency of her judges, she should un- 
 dertake to convey Rosa to a convent in Montreal, of 
 the order to which she had been, in her childhood, 
 attached. 
 
 He meant to plead guilty, as he thought he could 
 well afford to do, if he was exculpated on the other 
 points, to all the sin of acquiescence in Rosa's de- 
 votion to an unholy and proscribed religion ; and to 
 the crucifix Magawisca had produced, and which 
 he feared would prove a " confirmation strong" to 
 any jealousies the governor might still harbour 
 against him, he meant to answer that he had taken 
 it from Rosa to explain to Magawisca that she was 
 of the Romish religion. 
 
 With this plausible tale — not the best that could 
 have been devised, perhaps, by one accustomed to all 
 the sinuosities of the human mind and human affairs, 
 but the best that Sir Philip could frame in his pres- 
 ent perplexity — he bent his steps towards the govern- 
 or's, a little antf^pating the appointed hour in the 
 hope of obtaining a glimpse of Miss Leslie, whom he 
 had not seen since their last interview at the island 5
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 181 
 
 and who was still the bright cynosure by which, 
 through all the dangers that beset him, he trusted to 
 guide himself to a joyous destiny. 
 
 Never was he more unwelcome to her sight than 
 when he opened the parlour door, and interrupted 
 the deeply-interesting conversation in which we left 
 her engaged. She coldly bowed, without speaking, 
 and left him, without making any apology, in the 
 midst of his flattering compliments on the recovery of 
 her health. 
 
 Sir Philip and Everell were much on the terms of 
 two unfriendly dogs, who are, by some coercion, kept 
 from doing battle, but who never meet without low 
 growls and sullen looks, that intimate their deadly 
 enmity. Everell paced the room twice or thrice, then 
 snatched up his hat, left the house, and sauntered up 
 the street. 
 
 No sooner had he disappeared than Jennet emer- 
 ged from her seclusion, her hands uplifted and her 
 eyes upturned. " Oh, Sir Philip ! Sir Philip !" she 
 said, as soon as she could get her voice, a delay never 
 long with Jennet, " truly is the heart deceitful, and 
 the lips too. Oh ! who would have thought it ? 
 such a daring, presumptuous, and secret sin, too ! 
 Where is the governor ? He must know it. But f'''^^, 
 Sir Philip, I will tell you ; that will do, as you anu' 
 the governor are one in counsel." 
 
 " Heaven grant we may be so," thought Sir Phil- 
 ip, and he closed the door and turned to Jennet, ea- 
 ger to hear her communication ; for her earnestness, 
 
 Vol. IL— Q
 
 182 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 and, still more, the source whence the intelligence 
 emanated, excited his curiosity. 
 
 Jennet drew very close to him, and communicated 
 her secret in a whisper. 
 
 At first the listener's face did not indicate any par- 
 ticular emotion, but merely that courteous attention 
 which a sagacious man would naturally lend to in- 
 telligence which the relator deemed of vital impor- 
 tance. Suddenly a light seemed to flash across 
 him ; he started away from Jennet, stood still for a 
 moment with a look of intense thought, then turning 
 to his informer, he said, " Mrs. Jennet, I think we 
 had best, for to-day, confine within our own bosoms 
 the knowledge of this secret. As you say, Mr. Ev- 
 erell's is a presumptuous sin ; but it will not be pun- 
 ished unless it proceeds to the overt act." 
 
 " Overt act ! What kind of act is that ?" inquired 
 Jennet. 
 
 Sir Philip explained; and Jennet soon compre- 
 hended the difference, in its consequences to the of- 
 fender, between a meditated and an executed crime. 
 Jennet hesitated for a few moments ; she had a sort 
 of attachment to the family she had long served, 
 much like that of an old cat for its accustomed 
 br^'ints ; but towards Everell she had a feeling of 
 uuqualified hostility. From his boyhood he had 
 been rebellious against her petty domiciliary tyranny, 
 and had never manifested the slightest deference for 
 her canting pretensions. Still she was loath in any 
 way to be accessory to an act that would involve the 
 family with which she was herself identified in any
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 183 
 
 disgrace or distress. Sir Philip divined the cause of 
 her hesitation, and, impatient for her decision, he es- 
 sayed to resolve her doubts : " Of course, Mrs. Jen- 
 net," he said, " you are aware that any penalty Mr. 
 Everell Fletcher would incur will not be of a nature 
 to touch life or limb." 
 
 " Ay, that's what I wanted to know ; and that 
 being the case, it appears to me plain duty to let him 
 bake as he has brewed. Faithful are the wounds 
 of a friend. Sir Philip ; and this may prove a timely 
 rebuke to his youth, and to this quicksilver, fearnaught 
 Hope Leslie. But you will take care to have your 
 hand come in in time ; for if there should be any miss 
 in the matter, it would prove a heavy weight to our 
 consciences." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, certainly," said Sir Philip, with 
 undisguised exultation : " I shall, you know, com- 
 mand the springs, and can touch them at pleasure. 
 Now, Mrs. Jennet, will you favour me with pen and 
 ink ? and do me still another favour"— and he took 
 a guinea from his purse — " expend this trifle in some 
 book for your private edification ; I hear much of a 
 famous one just brought from England, entitled 
 ' Food for Saints and Fire for Sinners.' " 
 
 "Many thanks, Sir Philip," replied Jennet, gra- 
 ciously accepting the gift ; " such savoury treatises 
 are as much wanted among us just now, as rain upon 
 the parched earth : it's but a sickly and a moral 
 , time with us. You put me in mind. Sir Philip," she 
 continued, while she was collecting the writing ma- 
 terials, " you put me in mind of Mr. Everell's over- 
 sight ', or, rather, I may say, of his making me a
 
 184 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 mark in that unhandsome way that I can never for- 
 get. When he came from England, there was not, 
 save myself, one of the family — no, nor an old wom- 
 an or child in Springfield, but what he had some 
 keepsake for ; not that I care for the value of the 
 thing, as I told Digby at his wedding, when he sa- 
 luted every woman in the room but me ; but, then, 
 one does not like to be slighted." 
 
 Sir Philip, by this time, was fortunately bending 
 over his paper, and Jennet did not perceive his smile 
 at her jumble of selfish and feminine resentments ; 
 and, observing that he had at once become quite ab- 
 stracted from her, she withdrew, half satisfied herself 
 that she had acted conscientiously in her conspiracy 
 against her young master, and quite sure that she 
 should appear a pattern of wisdom and duty. 
 
 Sir Philip, mentally thanking Heaven that he had 
 not yet encountered Governor Winthrop, addressed 
 a hasty note to him, saying that he had come to his 
 house, true to his appointment, and impatient for the 
 explanation, which, he might say without presump- 
 tion, he was sure would remove the displeasure un- 
 der which he (Sir Philip) was at this moment suffer- 
 ing ; but that, in consequence of a sudden and severe 
 indisposition, the effect of the distressful agitation he 
 had undergone, he found himself obliged to return 
 to his lodgings, and defer their interview till the next 
 day ; till then, he humbly hoped the governor would 
 suspend his judgment. He then directed the note 
 and left it on the table, and passed the threshold of 
 the Winthrop mansion, as he beheved and hoped, 
 for the last time.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 185 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " This murderous shaft that's shot 
 Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way 
 Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse, 
 And let us not be dainty of leave-taking." 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans had their lucky and un- 
 lucky days ; and, whatever name we give to the al- 
 ternations of life, we believe that the experience of 
 every family and individual will attest the clustering 
 of joys or woes at marked periods. The day of 
 Magawisca's trial was eventful, and long remembered 
 in the annals of the Fletcher family. Indeed, every 
 one in any way associated with them seems to have 
 participated in the influences of their ruling star. 
 Each member of Governor Winthrop's household 
 appeared to be moving in a w^orld of his own, and 
 to be utterly absorbed in his own projects and hopes. 
 
 Miss Downing was for a long time closeted wath 
 her uncle and aunt ; then a great bustle ensued, and 
 emissaries went to and fro from Madam Winthrop's 
 apartment. Madam Winthrop herself forgot her 
 usual stateliness and dignified composure, and hur- 
 ried from one apartment to another with quick foot- 
 steps and a disturbed countenance. The governor 
 was heard pacing up and down his study, in earnest 
 conversation wath the elder Fletcher. Everell had 
 Q2
 
 186 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 gone outj leaving directions with a servant tosay to 
 hi« father, or any one who should inquire for hira, 
 that he should not return till the next day. Hope 
 Leslie resisted all her aunt's efforts to interest her in 
 a string of pearls w^hich she intended for a wedding 
 gift for Esther ; " but," Mrs. Grafton said, wreathing 
 them into Hope's hair, " her heart misgave her, they 
 looked so much prettier peeping out from among 
 Hope's wavy locks than they would on Esther's 
 sleek hair." The agitation of Hope's spirits was 
 manifest, but (we grieve to unveil her infirmities) 
 that, in her, excited no more attention than a change 
 of weather in an April day. She read one moment 
 — worked the next — and the next was devoting 
 herself w^ith earnest affection to the amusement of 
 her pining sister; then she would suddenly break 
 off from her, and take a few turns in the garden : in 
 short, confusion had suddenly intruded within the 
 dominion of order, and usurped the government of 
 all his subjects. 
 
 In the evening, the surface of affairs, at least, bore 
 a more tranquil aspect. The family all assembled 
 in the parlour as usual, excepting Miss Leslie and 
 Cradock, who had retired to the study to look over 
 a translation from the Italian, which Hope just recol- 
 lected her tutor had never revised. 
 
 Faith Leslie sat on a cushion beside the door, in 
 a state of vacancy and listlessness, into which she 
 seemed to have hopelessly sunk after the first violent 
 emotions that succeeded her return. The ladies were 
 plying their needles at the table : Miss Downing,
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 187 
 
 pale as a statue, moved her hand mechanically, and 
 Mrs. Grafton had just remarked that she had seen 
 her put her needle twelve times in the same place, 
 when, fortunately for her, any farther notice of her 
 abstraction was averted by a rap at the outer door, 
 and a servant admitted a stranger, who, without 
 heeding a request that he would remain in the por- 
 tico till the governor should be summoned, advanced 
 to the parlour door. He sent a keen, scrutinizing 
 glance around the room, and on every individual in 
 it ; and then, fixing his eye on the governor, he bent 
 his head low, with an expression of deferential sup- 
 phcation. 
 
 His appearance was that of extreme wretchedness, 
 and, as all w^ho saw him thought, indicated a ship- 
 wrecked sailor. His face and figure were youthful, 
 and his eye bright, but his skin was of a sickly, ash- 
 en hue. He had on his head a sailor's woollen cap, 
 drawn down to liis eyes, in part, as it seemed, to de- 
 fend a wound he had received on his temple, and 
 about which, and to the rim of the cap which cov- 
 ered it, there adhered clotted blood. His dress was 
 an overcoat of coarse frieze cloth, much torn and 
 weather-beaten, and strapped around the waist with 
 a leathern girdle ; his throat was covered with a cot- 
 ton handkerchief, knotted in sailor fashion, and his 
 legs and feet were bare. 
 
 To the governor's inquiry of " Who are you, 
 friend ?" and " what do you want ?" he replied in an 
 unknown language, and with a low^, rapid enuncia- 
 tion. At the first sound of his voice Faith Leslie
 
 188 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 sprang to her feet, but instantly sunk back again on 
 the cushion, and apparently returned to her former 
 abstraction. 
 
 Governor Winthrop eyed the stranger narrowly. 
 " I think, Brother Fletcher," he said, " this man has 
 the Italian lineaments ; perhaps Master Cradock may 
 understand his language, as he is well versed in all 
 the dialects of the kingdoms of Italy. Robin," he 
 added, " bid Master Cradock come hither." 
 
 " Master Cradock has gone out, sir, an please 
 you, some minutes since, wdth Miss Leslie." 
 
 " Gone out — with Miss Leslie I Whither ?" 
 
 " I do not know, sir. The young lady bid me say 
 she had gone to a friend's, and should not return till 
 late. She begged Mrs. Jennet might be in waiting 
 for her." 
 
 " This is somewhat unseasonable," said the gov- 
 ernor, looking at his watch ; " it is now almost nine ; 
 but I believe," he added, in kind consideration of 
 Mr. Fletcher's feelings, " w^e may trust your wild- 
 wood bird ; her flights are somewhat devious, but 
 her instincts are safer than I once thought them." 
 
 "Trust her! yes, indeed," exclaimed Mrs. Graf- 
 ton, catching the word that implied distrust. " But 
 I wonder," she added, going to the window and 
 looking anxiously abroad, " that she should venture 
 out this dark night, with nobody but that blind bee- 
 tle of a Cradock to attend her ; however, I suppose 
 she is safe if she but keep on the mainland, as I 
 think you say the wolves come no more over the 
 neck."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 189 
 
 " They certainly will not come anywhere within 
 the bounds that our lamb is likely to stray," said Mr. 
 Fletcher. 
 
 The governor's care again recurred to the mendi- 
 cant stranger, who now signified, by intelligible ges- 
 tures, that he both wanted food and sleep. Every 
 apartment in the governor's house was occupied ; but 
 it w^as a rule with him that admitted of no excep- 
 tion, that his shelter should never be denied to the 
 w^anderer, nor his charities to the poor ; and, accord- 
 ingly, after some consultation w^ith the executive 
 department of his domestic government, a flock-bed 
 w^as ordered to be spread on the kitchen floor, and a 
 meal provided, on which the stranger did extraordi- 
 nary execution. 
 
 When the result of these charitable deliberations 
 w^ere signified to him, he expressed his gratitude by 
 the most animated gestures, and seeming involunta- 
 rily to recur to the natural organ of communication, 
 he uttered, in his low and rapid manner, several sen- 
 tences, w^hich appeared, from the direction of his eye 
 and his repeated bows, to be addressed to his bene- 
 factor. 
 
 " Enough, enough," said the governor, interpret- 
 ing his words by a wave of his hand, which signified 
 to the mendicant that he was to follow Robin to the 
 kitchen. There we must leave him to achieve, in 
 due time, an object involving most momentous con- 
 sequences, while we follow on the trail of our hero- 
 ine, whose excursive habits have so often compelled 
 us to deviate from the straight line of narration.
 
 190 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Hope had retired to the study with Master Cra- 
 dock, where she dehghted her tutor with her seem- 
 ingly profound attention to his criticisms on her Ital- 
 ian author. " You see. Miss Hope Leslie," he said, 
 intent on illustrating a difficult passage, " the point 
 here lies in this, that Orlando hesitates whether to 
 go to the rescue of Beatrice." 
 
 " Ah, stop there. Master Cradock ; you speak an 
 admonition to me. You have yourself told me, the 
 Romans believed that words spoken by those igno- 
 rant of their affairs, but applicable to them, were 
 good or bad omens." 
 
 " True, true ; j'ou do honour your tutor beyond 
 his deserts, in treasuring these little classical notices, 
 that it hath been my rare privilege to plant in your 
 mind. But how were my words an admonition to 
 you. Miss Hope Leslie ?" 
 
 " By reminding me of a duty to a friend who sadly 
 needs my help — and thine too, my good tutor." 
 
 " My help ! your friend ! It shall be as freely 
 granted as Jonathan's was to David, or Orpheus's to 
 Eurydice." 
 
 "The task to be done," said Hope, w^hile she 
 could not forbear laughing at Cradock's comparing 
 himself to the master of music, " is not very unlike 
 that of Orpheus. But we have no time to lose : put 
 on your cloak. Master Cradock, while I tell Robin 
 what to say if we are inquired for." 
 
 "My cloak! you forget we are in the summer 
 solstice; and the evening is somewhat over sultry, 
 so that even now, with my common habiliments, I 
 am in a drip."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 191 
 
 " So much the more need to guard against the 
 evening air," said Hope, who had her own secret 
 and urgent reasons for insisting on the cloak ; " put 
 on the cloak. Master Cradock, and move quick and 
 softly, for I w^ould pass out without notice from the 
 family." 
 
 A Moslem w^ould as soon have thought of resisting 
 fate, as Cradock of opposing a w-ish of his young 
 mistress, which only involved his own comfort ; so 
 he cloaked himself, while Hope flew to the kitchen, 
 gave her orders, and threw on her hat, which she 
 had taken care to have at hand. They then passed 
 through the hall and beyond the court without at- 
 tracting observation. 
 
 Cradock was so absorbed in the extraordinary 
 happiness of being selected as the confidential aid 
 and companion of his favourite, that he would have 
 followed her to the world's end, without question, 
 if she had not herself turned the direction of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 " It is like yourself," she said, '• my good tutor, to 
 obey the call of humanity, without inquiring in whose 
 behalf it comes ', and I think you will not be the less 
 prorp^t to follow the dictates of your own heart and 
 my wishes, when I tell you that I am leading you to 
 poorMagawisca's prison." 
 
 " Ah T-the Indian woman, concerning w^hom I have 
 heard much colloquy. I would, in truth, be fain to 
 see her, and speak to her such comfortable words 
 and counsels as may, with a blessing, touch the 
 heathen's heart. You have doubtless, Miss Hope,
 
 192 HOPE. LESLIE. 
 
 provided yourself with a passport from the govern- 
 or," he added, for ahnost the first time in his Ufa 
 looking at the business part of a transaction. 
 
 " Master Cradock, I did not esteem that essen- 
 tial." 
 
 " Oh ! but it is ; and if you will abide here one 
 moment, I will hasten back and procure it," he said, 
 in his simplicity never suspecting that Miss Leslie's 
 omission was anything other than an oversight. 
 
 " Nay, nay, Master Cradock," she said, laying her 
 hand on his arm, " it is too late now : my heart is 
 set on this visit to the unhappy prisoner ; and if you 
 were to go back, Madam Winthrop, or my aunt, or 
 somebody else, might deem the hour unseasonable. 
 Leave it all to me : I will manage with Barnaby 
 Tuttle ; and when we return, be assured I will take 
 all the blame, if there is any, on myself." 
 
 " No, that you shall not ; it shall fall on my gray 
 head, where there should be wisdom, and not on your 
 youth, which lacketh discretion — and lacketh naught 
 else," he murmured to himself; and, without any 
 farther hesitation, he acquiesced in proceeding on- 
 ward. 
 
 They arrived without hinderance at the jail, and 
 knocked a long time for admittance at that part of 
 the tenement occupied by our friend Barnaby, with- 
 out his appearing. Hope became impatient ; and, 
 bidding Cradock follow her, she passed through the 
 passage, and opened the door of Barnaby's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 He was engaged in what he still called " his fam-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 193 
 
 ily exercise ;" though, by the death of his wife and 
 the marriage of his only child, he was the sole rem- 
 nant of that corporation. On seeing our heroine, he 
 gave her a famiUar nod of recognition, and, by an 
 equally intelligible sign, he demonstrated his desire 
 that she should seat herself, and join in his devotions, 
 which he was just closing, by singing a psalm, ver- 
 sified by himself; for honest Barnaby, after his own 
 humble fashion, was a disciple of the tuneful Nine. 
 Hope assented ; and, with the best grace she could 
 command, accompanied him through twelve stanzas 
 of long and very uncommon metre, which he obli- 
 gingly gave out line by line. When this, on Hope's 
 part, extempore worship w^as finished, " Welcome 
 here, and many thanks. Miss Leslie," said Barnaby ; 
 " it's a good sign to find a prepared heart and a ready 
 voice. Service to you, Master Cradock; you are 
 not gifted in psalmody, I see." 
 
 " Not in the outward manifestation ; but the in- 
 ward feeling is, I trust, vouchsafed to me. My heart 
 hath taken part in the fag end of your feast." 
 
 " A- pretty similitude, truly. Master Cradock, and 
 a token for good is it when the appetite is always 
 sharp-set for such a feast. But come, Miss Leslie," 
 raking open the embers, " draw^ up your chair, and 
 warm your dear little feet. She looks pale yet af- 
 ter her sickness — ha. Master Cradock ? You should 
 not have come forth in the evening air — not but 
 what I am right glad to see you ; the sight of you 
 always brings to mind your kindness to the dead and 
 the living. You have not been here, I think, since 
 
 Vol. 1L— R
 
 194 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the night of Ruthy's wedding : that puts me in mind 
 that I got a letter from Ruthy to-day. I'll read it 
 to you," he continued, taking off his spectacles and 
 giving them a preparatory wipe ; " Ruthy is quite 
 handy with her pen — takes after the Tuttles in that : 
 you know. Miss Leslie, my great-grandfather wrote 
 a book." 
 
 " Yes," said Hope, interrupting him, and rising, 
 " and I trust his great-grandson will live to write 
 another." 
 
 " Sit down. Miss Leslie ; it may be those of as 
 humble a degree as Barnaby Tuttle have wTitten 
 books ; and writing runs in families, like the king's 
 evil" — and Barnaby laughed at his own witty il- 
 lustration — " but sit down. Miss Leslie ; I must read 
 Ruthy 's letter to you." 
 
 " Not now, good Barnaby ; let me take it home 
 with me ; it is getting late, and I have a favour to 
 ask of you." 
 
 " A favour to ask of me ! ask anything, my pretty 
 mistress, that's in the power of Barnaby Tuttle to 
 grant. Ah ! Mr. Cradock, there's nobody knows 
 what I owe her — what she did for my wife when she 
 laid on her deathbed — and all for nothing but our 
 thanks and prayers." 
 
 " Oh, you forget that your wife had once been a 
 servant to my dear mother." 
 
 "Yes, yes, but only in the common way, and 
 there's few that would have thought of it again. 
 It's not my way to speak with flattering lips, but 
 truly, Miss Hope Leslie, you seem to be one of those
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 195 
 
 that do not to others that it may be done to you 
 again." 
 
 " Oh, my good friend Barnaby, you speak this 
 praise in the wrong time, for I have even now come, 
 as I told you, to beg a favour on the score of old 
 friendship." 
 
 " It shall be done ! it shall be done !" said Barna- 
 by, snapping his fingers, his most energetic gesture ; 
 " be it what it may, it shall be done." 
 
 " Oh, it is not so very much, but only, Barnaby, I 
 wish it quickly done, that we may return. I want 
 you to conduct Master Cradock and myself to your 
 Indian prisoner, and leave us in her cell for a short 
 time." 
 
 " Is that all ? Certainly — certainly ;" and, anxious 
 to make up for the smallness of the service by the 
 avidity of his compliance, Barnaby prepared his lamp 
 with unwonted activity. " Now we are ready," he 
 said, " just show me your permit, and we'll go with- 
 out delay." 
 
 Hope had flattered herself that her old friend, in 
 his eagerness to serve her, would dispense with the 
 ceremony of a passport from the governor. Agita- 
 ted by this new and alarming obstacle, she command- 
 ed her voice with difficulty to reply in her usual tone. 
 " How could I think it necessary to bring a permit 
 to you, who know me so well, Barnaby ?" 
 
 *' Not necessary ! that was an odd thought for such 
 an all-witted. damsel as thou art, Miss Hope Leslie. 
 Not necessary, indeed ! Why, I could not let in the 
 king, if he were to come from his throne ) the king !
 
 196 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 truly, he is but as his subjects now ; but if the first 
 Parliament man were to come here, I could not let 
 him in without a permit from the governor." 
 
 Hope walked up and down the room, biting her 
 lips with vexation and disappointment. Every mo- 
 ment's delay hazarded the final success of her pro- 
 ject. Poor Cradock now interposed with one of his 
 awkward movements, which, though made wdth the 
 best will in the world, was sure to overturn the bur- 
 den he essayed to bear. " Be comforted. Miss Hope 
 Leslie," he said ; " I am not so nimble as I was in 
 years past, but it is scarce fifteen minutes' walk to 
 the governor's, and I will hasten thither and get the 
 needful paper." 
 
 " Ay, ay, so do," said Barnaby j " that will set all 
 right." 
 
 " No," cried Hope ; " no. Master Cradock, you 
 shall not go. If Barnaby cannot render me this lit- 
 tle kindness, there is an end of it. I will give it up. 
 I shall never ask another favour of you, Barnaby ;" 
 and she sat down, anxious and disappointed, and 
 burst into tears. Honest Barnaby could not stand 
 this. To see one so much his superior — One who had 
 been an angel of mercy to his habitation — one who 
 had a right to command him in all permitted ser- 
 vice, thrown into such deep distress by his refusal of 
 a favour, which, after all, there could be no harm in 
 granting, he could not endure. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, after hesitating and jin- 
 gling his keys for a moment, " dry up your tears, my 
 young lady 5 a ^ wayward child,' they say, ' will have
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 197 
 
 its way ;' and they say, too, * men's hearts melt in 
 women's tears,' and I believe it ; come, come along, 
 you shall have your way." 
 
 Hope now passed to the extreme of joy and grat- 
 itude. " Bless you — bless you, Barnaby," she said, 
 " I was sure you would not be cross to me." 
 
 " Lord help us, child, no — there's no denying you ; 
 but I do wish you was as thoughtful as Miss Esther 
 Downing ; she never came without a permit — a good 
 thing is consideration ; you have made me to do that 
 which I trust not to do again — step aside from known 
 duties ; but we're erring creatures." 
 
 Hope had the grace to pause one instant, and to 
 meditate a retreat before she had involved others in 
 sinning against their consciences; but she had the 
 end to be attained so much at heart, and the faults 
 to be committed by her agents were of so light a 
 dye, that the scale of her inclinations soon prepon- 
 derated, and she proceeded. When they came to 
 the door of the dungeon, " Hark to her," said Bar- 
 naby ; " is not that a voice for psalmody ?" Mag- 
 awisca was singing in her own language, in the most 
 thrilling and plaintive tones. Hope thought there 
 could not be darkness or imprisonment to such a spirit. 
 " It is, in truth, Barnaby," she replied, " a voice fit 
 to sing the praises of God." Barnaby now turned 
 the bolts and opened the door, and as the feeble ray 
 of his lamp fell athwart the dungeon's gloom, Hope 
 perceived Magawisca sitting on her flock bed, with 
 a blanket wrapped around her. On hearing their 
 voices she had ceased her singing, but she gave no 
 R 2
 
 198 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 other sign of her consciousness of the presence of her 
 visiters. 
 
 Miss Leslie took the lamp from Barnaby. " How 
 much time will you allow us?" she asked. 
 
 " Ten minutes." 
 
 " Ten minutes ! oh, more than that, I pray you, 
 good Barnaby." 
 
 " Not one second more," replied Barnaby, resolute 
 not to concede another inch of ground. "There 
 may be question of this matter — you must consider, 
 my dear young lady." 
 
 " I will — always in future, I will, Barnaby ; now 
 you may leave me." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I understand," said Barnaby, giving a 
 knowing nod. " You mind the Scripture rule about 
 the right and the left hand — some creature comfort 
 to be given to the prisoner. I marvel that ye bring 
 Master Cradock with you ; but, in truth, he hath no 
 more eye nor ear than the wall." 
 
 " Marvel not at anything, Barnaby, but leave me, 
 and let my ten minutes be as long as the last ten 
 minutes before dinner." 
 
 Hope, quick as she was in invention and action, 
 felt that she had a very brief space to effect her pur- 
 posed arrangements ; and while she hesitated as to 
 the best mode of beginning, Cradock, who nothing 
 doubted he had been brought hither as a ghostly 
 teacher, asked whether " he should commence with 
 prayer or exhortation." 
 
 " Neither — neither. Master Cradock ; do just as I 
 bid you ; you will not hesitate to help a fellow-crea-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 199 
 
 ture out of deep, unmerited distress ?" This \vas ut- 
 tered in a tone of half inquiry and half assertion, 
 that, enforced by Hope's earnest, imploring manner, 
 quickened Cradock's slow apprehension. She per- 
 ceived the light was dawning on his mind, and she 
 turned from him to Magawisca : " Magawisca," she 
 said, stooping over her, " rouse yourself — trust me — 
 I have come to release you." She made no reply 
 nor movement. " Oh ! there is not a moment to lose. 
 Magawisca, listen to me — speak to me." 
 
 " Thou didst once deceive and betray me, Hope 
 Leslie," she replied, without raising her head. 
 
 Hope concisely explained the secret machina- 
 tions of Sir Philip, by which she had been made the 
 unconscious and innocent means of betraying her. 
 " Then, Hope Leslie," she exclaimed, rising from her 
 abject seat and throwing off her blanket, " thy soul 
 is unstained, and Everell Fletcher's truth will not be 
 linked to falsehood." 
 
 Hope would have explained that her destiny and 
 Everell's were not to be interwoven, but she had 
 neither time nor heart for it. " You are too gener- 
 ous, Magaw^isca," she said, in a tremulous tone, " to 
 think of any one but yourself, now — w^e have not a 
 breath to lose — take this riband," and she untied her 
 sash ; '' bind your hair tight with it, so that you can 
 draw Master Cradock's wig over your head ; you 
 must exchange dresses wdth him." 
 
 " Nay, Hope Leslie, I cannot leave another in my 
 net." 
 
 " You must not hesitate, Magawisca — you will be
 
 200 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 freed — he runs no risk, will suffer no harm — Ever- 
 ell awaits you — speed, I pray you." She turned to 
 Cradock : " Now, my good tutor," she said, in her 
 most persuasive tones, " lend me your aid, quickly. 
 Magawisca must have the loan of your wig, hat, 
 boots, and cloak; and you must sit down there on 
 her bed, and let me wrap you in her blanket." 
 
 Cradock retreated to the wall, planted himself 
 against it, shut his eyes, and covered his ears with 
 his hands, that temptation might, at every entrance, 
 be quite shut out. " Oh ! I scruple — I scruple," he 
 articulated, in a voice of the deepest distress. 
 
 " Scruple not, dear Master Cradock," replied Hope, 
 pulhng down one of his hands, and holding it be- 
 tween both hers j " no harm can — no harm shall be- 
 fall you." 
 
 " Think not, sweet Miss Hope, it's for the perish- 
 ing body I am thoughtful ; for thy sake I would bare 
 my neck to the slayer ; to thy least wish I would 
 give the remnant of my days ; but I scruple if it be 
 lawful for a Christian man to lend this aid to an idol- 
 ater." 
 
 " Oh ! is that all ? We have no time to answer 
 such scruples now, but to-morrow. Master Cradock, 
 I will show you that you greatly err ;" and, as she 
 said this, she proceeded, without any farther ceremo- 
 ny, to divest the old man of his wig, which she care- 
 fully adjusted on Magawisca's head. Both parties 
 w^ere passive in her hands, Magawisca not seeming 
 to relish, much better than Cradock, the false charac- 
 ter she was assuming. Such was Cradock's habit-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 201 
 
 ual deference to his j'oung mistiness, that it was mor- 
 ally impossible for him to make any physical resist- 
 ance to her movements; but neither his conscience 
 nor his apprehensions for her would permit him to 
 be silent when he felt a conviction that she was do- 
 ing, and he was suffering, an act that was a plain 
 transgression of a holy law. 
 
 " Stay thy hand," he said, in a beseeching voice, 
 " and let not thy feet move so swiftly to destruc- 
 tion." 
 
 " Just raise your foot while I draw off this boot. 
 Master Cradock." 
 
 He mechanically obeyed, but at the same time 
 continued his admonition : " Was not Jehoshaphat 
 reproved of Micaiah the prophet for going down to 
 thehelpof Ahab?" 
 
 " Now the other foot, Master Cradock ; there, 
 that will do. Draw them on, Magawisca, right over 
 your moccasins ; quick, I beseech you." 
 
 " Was not the good King Josiah reproved in the 
 matter of Pharaoh Necho ?" 
 
 " Oh, Magawisca ! how shall I ever make your 
 slender shoulders and straight back look anything 
 like Master Cradock's broad, round shoulders ? One 
 glance of Barnaby's dim old eyes will detect you. 
 Ah ! this will do ; I will bind the pillow on with the 
 sheet." While she was uttering the device, she ac- 
 complished it. She then threw Magawisca's mantle 
 over her expanded shoulders, and Cradock's cloak 
 over all ; and, finally, the wig was surmounted by the 
 old man's steeple-crowned hat. " Now," she said,
 
 202 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 almost screaming with joy at the transformation so 
 suddenly effected, " now, Magawisca, all depends on 
 yourself ; if you will but contrive to screen your 
 face, and shuffle a little in your gait, all will go 
 well." 
 
 The hope of liberty — of deliverance from her gall- 
 ing imprisonment — of escape beyond the power and 
 dominion of her enemies, had now taken full posses- 
 sion of Magawisca ; and the thought that she should 
 owe her release to Everell and to Hope, who, in her 
 imagination, was identified with him, filled her with 
 emotions of joy resembling those a saint may feel 
 when she sees in vision the ministering angels sent 
 to set her free from her earthly prison : " I will do 
 all thou shalt command me, Hope Leslie ; thou art 
 indeed a spirit of light, and love, and beauty." 
 
 " True, true, true," cried Cradock, losing, in the 
 instincts of his affection, the opposition he had so 
 valorously maintained, and his feelings flowing back 
 into their accustomed channel ; " thou w^oman in 
 man's attire, it is given to thee to utter truth, even as 
 of old lying oracles were wont to speak words of 
 prophecy." 
 
 Hope had not, as may be imagined, stood still to 
 listen to this long sentence, uttered in her tutor's de- 
 liberate, broken manner, but in the mean while she 
 had, with an almost supernatural celerity of move- 
 ment, arranged everything to present the same aspect 
 as when Barnaby first opened the door of the dun- 
 geon. She drew Cradock to the bed, seated him 
 there, and wrapped the blanket about him as it had
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 203 
 
 enveloped Magawisca. " Oh ! I hear Barnaby !" 
 she exclaimed ; " dear Master Cradock, sit a little 
 straighter ; there, that will do ; turn a little more 
 sideways — you will not look so broad ; there, that's 
 better." 
 
 " Miss Hope Leshe, ye have perverted the simple- 
 minded." 
 
 "Say not another word, Master Cradock; pray 
 do not breathe so like a trumpet — ah, I see it is my 
 fault." She readjusted the blanket, which she had 
 drawn so close over the unresisting creature's face 
 as almost to suffocate him. " Now, Magawisca, sit 
 down on this stool — your back to the door, close to 
 Master Cradock, as if you were talking with him." 
 All was now arranged to her mind, and she spent 
 the remaining half instant in whispering consolations 
 to Cradock : " Do not let your heart fail you, my 
 good, kind tutor ; in one hour you shall be relieved." 
 Cradock would have again explained that he was 
 regardless of any personal risk, but she interrupted 
 him : " Nay, you need not speak ; I know that is not 
 your present care, but do not be troubled ; we are 
 commanded'to do good to all ; the rain falleth on the 
 just and the unjust ; and if we are to help our ene- 
 my's ox out of the pit, much more our enemy. This 
 best of all thy kind services shall be requited. I 
 will be a child to thy old age — hush ! there's Bar- 
 naby !" 
 
 She moved a few steps from the parties, and when 
 the jailer opened the door, she appeared to be await- 
 ing him. " Just in season, good Master Tuttle j my
 
 204 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 tutor has nothing more to say, and I am as impatient 
 to go as you are to have me gone." 
 
 " It is only for your own sake that I am impatient, 
 Miss Hope ; let us make all haste out." He took up 
 the lamp which he had left in the cell, trimmed it, 
 and raised the wick, that it might better serve to 
 guide them through the dark passage. 
 
 Hope was alarmed by the sudden increase of light : 
 " Lend me your lamp, Barnaby," she said, " to look 
 for my glove ; where can I have dropped it ? It 
 must be somewhere about here. I shall find it in a 
 minute, Master Cradock 3 you had best go on while 
 I am looking." 
 
 Magawisca obeyed the hint, while Hope, in her 
 pretended search, so skilfully managed the light that 
 not a ray of it touched Magawisca's face. She had 
 passed Barnaby: Hope thought the worst danger 
 escaped. " Ah, here it is," she said j and, by w^ay of 
 precaution, she added, in the most careless tone she 
 could assume, " I will carry the lamp for you, Bar- 
 naby." 
 
 " No, no, thank you, Miss Leslie, I always like to 
 carry the light myself; and, besides, I must take a 
 good look at you both before 1 lock the door. It is 
 a rule I always observe in such cases, lest I should 
 be left to ' brood the eggs the fox has sucked.' It 
 is a prudent rule, I assure you, always to be sure you 
 take out the same you let in. Here, Master Cradock, 
 turn round, if you please, to the light, just for form's 
 sake." 
 
 Magawisca had advajiced several steps into the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 205 
 
 passage, and Hope's first impulse was to scream to 
 lier to run ; but a second and happier thought pre- 
 vailed ; and taking her shawl, which was hanging 
 negligently over her arm, she contrived, in throwing 
 it over her head, to sweep it across Bamaby's lamp 
 in such a way as to extinguish the light beyond the 
 possibility of recovery, as Barnaby proved by vain- 
 ly trying to blow it again into a flame. 
 
 " Do not put yourself to any farther trouble about 
 it, Barnaby ; it was all my faulty but it matters not 
 — you know the way ; just give me your arm, and 
 Master Cradock can take hold of my shawl, and we 
 shall grope through this passage without any diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 Barnaby arranged himself as she suggested, and 
 then, hoping her sudden action had broken the chain 
 of his thoughts, and determined he should not have 
 time to resume it, she said, " When you write to 
 Ruth, Barnaby, be sure you commend me kindly to 
 her ; and tell her that I have done the baby-linen I 
 promised her, and that I hope little Barnaby will 
 prove as good a man as his grandfather." 
 
 *' Oh, thank ye. Miss Hope : I trust, by the bless- 
 ing of the Lord, much better ; but they do say,^' 
 added the old man, with a natural ancestral compla- 
 cency, " they do say he favours me ; he's got the 
 true Tuttle chin, the little dog 1" 
 
 " You cannot tell yet whether he is gifted in 
 psalmody, Barnaby ?" 
 
 " La, ^Miss Hope, you must mean to joke. Why, 
 little Barnaby is not five weeks old till next Wednes- 
 
 VoL. IT.— S
 
 206 HOPE LESLIE, 
 
 day morning, half past three o'clock. But I'm as 
 sure he will take to psalmody as if I knew ; there 
 never was a Tuttle that did not." 
 
 Our heroine thus happily succeeded in beguihng 
 the way to the top of the staircase, where a passage 
 diverged to the outer door, and there, with many 
 thanks arid assurances of future gratitude, she bade 
 Barnaby good-night; and, anticipating any obser- 
 vation he might make of Cradock's silence, she said, 
 " My tutor seems to have fallen into one of his rev- 
 eries 'j but never mind ; another time he will remem- 
 ber to greet and thank you." 
 
 Barnaby was turning away from the door, when 
 he recollected that the sudden extinction of the can- 
 dle had prevented his intended professional inspec- 
 tion. " Miss Hope Leslie," he cried, " be so good 
 as to stay one moment, while I get a light ; the night 
 is so murky that I cannot see, even here, the linea- 
 ments of Master Cradock's complexion." 
 
 " Pshaw, Barnaby, for mercy's sake do not detain 
 us now for such an idle ceremony ; you see the linea- 
 ments of that form, I think ; we must have been 
 witches, indeed, to have transformed Magawisca's 
 slender person into that enormous bulk ; but one 
 sense is as good as another. Speak, Master Cradock," 
 she added, relying on Magawisca's discretion. " Oh, 
 he is in one of his silent fits, and a stroke of lightning 
 would scarcely bring a sound from him : so good- 
 night, Barnaby," she concluded, gently putting him 
 back and shutting the door. 
 
 "It is marvellous," thought Barnaby, as he re-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 207 
 
 luctantly acquiesced in relinquishing the letter of his 
 duty, " how this young creature spins me round, at 
 her will, like a top. I think she keeps the key to all 
 hearts." 
 
 With this natural reflection he retired to rest, with- 
 out taking the trouble to return to the dungeon, 
 which he would have done if he had really felt one 
 apprehension of the fraud that had been there per- 
 petrated. 
 
 At the instant the prison door was closed, Maga- 
 wisca divested herself of her hideous disguise, and 
 proceeded on with Hope to the place where Everell 
 was awaiting them with the necessary means to 
 transport her beyond the danger of pursuit. But, 
 while our heroine is hastening onward with a bound- 
 ing step and an exulting heart, a cruel conspiracy 
 is maturing against her.
 
 208 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Sisters ! weave the web of death : 
 Sisters ! cease ; the work is done." 
 
 The Fatal Sisters. 
 
 The conversation overheard by the faithless Jen- 
 net, and communicated with all its particulars to Sir 
 Philip Gardiner, was, as must have been already 
 conjectured by our readers, the contrivance for Mag- 
 awisca's liberation. It appeared by her statement 
 that Hope and Magawisca, unattended, would, at a 
 late hour of the evening, pass through a part of the 
 town unfrequented after dark ; that, at a fixed time, 
 Everell would be in waiting for them at a certain 
 landing-place. Before they reached there. Sir Phil- 
 ip knew there were many points where they might 
 be intercepted, without the possibility of Everell's 
 coming to their rescue. 
 
 Sir Philip was entangled in the meshes of his ow^n 
 weaving ; extrication was possible — nay, he believed 
 probable; but there was a fearful chance against 
 him. He had now to baffle well-founded suspicions ; 
 to disprove facts ; to double his guard over his as- 
 sumed and tiresome character ; and, after all, human 
 art could not secure him from accidents, which would 
 bring in their train immediate disgrace and defeat. 
 His passion for Miss Leslie had been stimulated by 
 the obstacles which opposed it. His hopes were
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 209 
 
 certainly abated by her indifference ; but self-love, 
 and its minister vanity, are inexhaustible in their re- 
 sources ; and Sir Philip trusted for better success in 
 future to his own powers and to feminine weakness ; 
 for he, hke other profligates, believed that there was 
 no woman, however pure and lofty her seeming, but 
 she was commanded 
 
 " By such poor passion as the maid that milks, 
 And does the meanest chares ;" 
 
 yet this process of winning the prize was slow, and 
 the result, alas ! uncertain. 
 
 Jennet's information suggested a master-stroke by 
 which he could at once achieve his object — a single 
 stroke by which he could carry the citadel he had 
 so long and painfully besieged. If an evil spirit had 
 been abroad on a corrupting mission, he could not 
 have selected a subject more eager to grasp tempta- 
 tion than Sir Philip, nor a fitter agent than Jennet, 
 nor have contrived a more infernal plot against an 
 " innocent and aidless lady" than that which we 
 must now disclose. 
 
 Chaddock (whose crew had occasioned such dan- 
 ger and alarm to Miss Leslie) was still riding in the 
 bay with his vessel. Sir Philip had formerly some 
 acquaintance with this man. He knew him to be a 
 desperate fellow ; that he had once been in confed- 
 eracy w^th the bucaniers of Tortuga — the self-styled 
 " Brothers of the Coast ;" and he believed that he 
 might be persuaded to enter upon any new and law- 
 less enterprise. 
 
 Accordingly, from Governor Winthrop's he re- 
 S 2
 
 210 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 paired to Chaddock's vessel, and presented such mo- 
 tives to him, and offered such rewards, as induced 
 the wretch to enter heartily into his designs. For- 
 tunately for their purposes, the vessel was ready for 
 sea, and they decided to commence their voyage 
 that very night. All Miss Leslie's paternal connex- 
 ions were on the royal side ; her fortune was still in 
 their hands, and subject to their control. " If the 
 lady's reluctance to accept his hand was not subdued 
 before the end of the voyage" (a chance scarcely 
 worth consideration), Sir Philip said, " she must then 
 submit fo stern necessity, which even a woman's will 
 could not oppose." After their arrival in England, 
 he meant to abandon himself to the disposal of For- 
 tune j but he promised Chaddock that he, with cer- 
 tain other cavaliers, whom he asserted had already 
 meditated such an enterprise, would, with the rem- 
 nant of their fortunes, embark with him, and enrol 
 themselves among the adventurers of Tortuga. 
 
 It may be remembered by our readers, that early 
 in our history, some glimmerings of a plot of this na- 
 ture appear, from a letter of Sir Philip's, even then 
 to have daw^ned on his mind ; but other purposes 
 had intervened and put it off till now, when it was 
 ripened by sudden and fit opportunity. 
 
 The detail of operations being all settled by these 
 worthy confederates. Sir Philip, at nightfall, went 
 once more to the town, secretly withdrew his bag- 
 gage from his lodgings, and bidding Rosa, who, in 
 sorrow and despair, mechanically obeyed, to follow^, 
 he returned to the vessel, humming, as he took his
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 211 
 
 last look at the scene where he had played so un- 
 worthy a part, 
 
 " Kind Boston, adieu ! part we must, though 'tis pity, 
 But I'm made for mankind— all the world is my city." 
 
 Sir Philip, in his arrangements w^ith Chaddock, 
 excused himself from being one of the party who 
 were to effect the abduction of Miss Leslie. Per- 
 haps the external habits of a gentleman, and, it may 
 be, some httle remnant of human kindness (for we 
 would not believe that man can become quite a fiend), 
 rendered him reluctant to take a personal part in the 
 cruel outrage he had planned and prepared. Chad- 
 dock himself commanded the enterprise, and was to 
 be accompanied by four of the most daring of his 
 crew. 
 
 The night was moonless, and not quite clear. 
 " It is becoming dark — extremely dark, captain," 
 Sir Philip said, in giving his last instructions ; " but 
 it is impossible you should make a mistake. Miss 
 Leslie's companion, as I told you, may be disguised 
 — she may wear a man's or woman's apparel — but 
 you have an infallible guide in her height ; she is at 
 least half a head taller than Miss Leslie. It may be 
 well, when you get to the wharf, to divide your par- 
 ty, agreeing on the signal of a whistle. But I rely 
 on your skill and discretion." 
 
 " You may rely on it," replied the hardy despera- 
 do. " He who has boarded Spanish galleons, storm- 
 ed castles, pillaged cities, violated churches, and bro- 
 ken open monasteries, may be intrusted with the cap- 
 ture of a single defenceless girl."
 
 212 HOPE LESLIE. • 
 
 Sir Philip recoiled from trusting his prey in the 
 clutches of this tiger, but there was no alternative. 
 " Have a care, Chaddock," he said, " that she is 
 treated with all due and possible gentleness." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir Philip — kill, but not hurt !" A smile 
 of derision accompanied his words. 
 
 " You have pledged me the honour of a gentle- 
 man," said Sir Philip, in an alarmed tone. 
 
 " Ay I the only bond of free souls. Remember, 
 Sir Philip," he added, for he perceived the suspicion 
 the knight would fain have hidden in his inmost soul, 
 " remember our motto : ' Trusted, we are true ; sus- 
 pected, we betray.' I have pledged my honour; 
 better than parchment and seal — if you confide in 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, I do — entirely — implicitly ; I have not the 
 shadow of a doubt, my dear fellew." 
 
 Chaddock turned away, laughing contemptuously 
 at the ineffectual hypocrisy of Sir Philip, and order- 
 ed the men w'ho were to be left in charge of the ves- 
 sel to have everything in readiness to sail at the mo- 
 ment of his return. " And w^hither bound, captain V 
 demanded one of his sailors. 
 
 " To hell !" was his ominous reply. This answer, 
 seemingly accidental, was long remembered and re- 
 peated, as a proof that the unhappy wretch was con- 
 strained, thus involuntarily, to pronounce his ap- 
 proaching doom. 
 
 Once more, before he left the vessel. Sir Philip 
 addressed him : " Be in no haste to return," he said ; 
 " the lady was not to leave Governor Winthrop's be-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 213 
 
 fore half past eight ; she may meet with unforeseen 
 detentions ; you will reach the dock a few minutes 
 before nine. Take your stations as I have directed, 
 and Fortune cannot thwart us if you are patient ; 
 -svait till ten — eleven — twelve — or one, if need be. 
 Again, I entreat there maybe no unnecessary haste ; 
 I shall have no apprehensions ; I repose on your 
 fidelity." 
 
 " D — n him !" muttered Chaddock, as he turned 
 away, " he reposes on my fidelity — while he has my 
 vessel in pledge !" 
 
 Sir Philip remained standing by the side of the ves- 
 sel, listening to the quick strokes of the oars, till the 
 sounds died away in the distance; then he spoke 
 aloud and exultingly : " Shine out, my good star, and 
 guide this prize to me !" 
 
 " Oh ! rather," exclaimed Rosa, who stood unob- 
 served beside him, " rather, merciful Heaven, let thy 
 lightnings blast her or thy waves swallow her. Oh 
 God !" she continued, sinking on her knees and clasp- 
 ing her hands, " shield the innocent ; save her from 
 the hand of the destroyer !" 
 
 Sir Philip recoiled ; it seemed to him there was 
 something prophetic in the piercing tones of the un- 
 happy girl, and for a moment he felt as if her prayer 
 must penetrate to Heaven ; but soon collecting cour- 
 age, " Hush that mockery, Rosa !" he said j " your 
 words are scorpions to me." 
 
 Rosa remained for a few moments on her knees, 
 but without again giving voice to her feelings ; then 
 rising, and sobbing as she spoke, " I thought," she
 
 214 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 said, " no prayer of mine would ever go upward 
 again. I have tried to pray, and the words fell back 
 like stones upon my heart ; but now I pray for the 
 innocent, and they part from me winged for Heaven." 
 She folded her arms, looked upward, and continued 
 to speak, as if it were the involuntary utterance of 
 her thoughts : " How wildly the stars shoot their 
 beams through the parting clouds ! I have some- 
 times thought that good spirits come down on those 
 bright rays to do their messages of love. They may 
 even now be on their way to guard a pure and help- 
 less sister : God speed them !" 
 
 Sir Philip's superstitious fears were awakened : 
 " What do you mean, Rosa ?" he exclaimed; " what I 
 are 3^ou talking of stars ? I see nothing but this 
 cursed hazy atmosphere, that hangs like a pall over 
 the water. Stars, indeed ! are you mad, Rosa ?" 
 
 Rosa replied, with a touching simplicity, as if the 
 inquiry were made in good faith, " Yes, by times I 
 think I am mad. Thoughts rush so fast, so wildly 
 through my poor head — and then, again, all is va- 
 cancy. Yes," she continued, as if meditating her 
 case, " I think my brain is touched ; but this — this, 
 Sir Philip, is not madness. Do you know that all 
 the good have their ministering spirits ? Why, I 
 remember reading in the ' Legends of the Saints,' 
 which our good abbess gave me, of a chain, invisi- 
 ble to mortal senses, that encompassed all the faith- 
 ful, from the bright spirits that wait around the throne 
 of Heaven to the lowliest that walk upon the earth. 
 It is of such exquisite temper that naught but sin can
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 215 
 
 harm it ; but, if that but touch it, it falls apart like 
 rust-eaten metal." 
 
 " Away with these fantastic legends, inventions of 
 hypocritical priests and tiresome old women. You 
 must curb these foolish vagaries of your imagination, 
 Rosa. I have present and urgent work for you 3 do 
 but this good service for me, and I will love you again, 
 and make you as happy as you were in your bright- 
 est days." 
 
 " You make me happy, Sir Philip ! Alas ! alas ! 
 there is no happiness without innocence ; if that be 
 once lost, like the guilty Egyptian's pearl you told 
 me of, melted in the bowl of pleasure, happiness 
 cannot be restored." 
 
 " As you please, girl ; if you will not be happy, 
 you may play the penitent Magdalen the rest of your 
 life. You shall select your own convent, and tell your 
 beads, and say your prayers, and be as demure and 
 solemn as any seeming saint of them all. I will give 
 you a penance to begin with ; nay, I am serious : 
 hear me. In spite of your prayers, and visions, and 
 silly fancies, Miss Leslie must soon be here ; the snare 
 is too well prepared to be escaped. After this one 
 violence, to w^hich she and cruel fate have driven 
 me, I will be a true knight, as humble and worship- 
 ful as any hero of chivalry." 
 
 " But she does not now love you, and do you not 
 fear she will hate you for this outrage ?" 
 
 " Ay ; but there is a potent alchymy at work for 
 us in the hearts of you women, that turns hate to 
 love. You shall yet hear her say, like the lady of
 
 216 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Sir Gawaine, * Oh ! how it is befallen me, that now 
 I love him whom I before most hated of all men liv- 
 ing.' But you must aid me, Rosa ; this proud queen 
 must have her maid of honour." 
 
 " And I must be the poor slave to do her bidding !" 
 said Rosa, impatiently interrupting him, and all oth- 
 er feelings giving way to the rising of womanly 
 pride. 
 
 " Nay, not so, Rosa," replied Sir Philip ; and he 
 added, in a voice which he hoped might sooth her 
 petulance, "render to her all maidenly service; for 
 a little while do the tasks of the bond-woman, and 
 you shall yet have her wages ; nay, start not — ^you 
 remember the good patriarch's affections manifestly 
 leaned to the side of Hagar." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and I remember, too, what her fate was 
 — the fate of all who follow in her footsteps — to be 
 cast out to wander forth in a desert, where there is 
 not one sign of God's love left to them." She burst 
 into tears, and added, " I would give my poor life, 
 and a thousand more, if I had them, to save Hope 
 Leslie, but I will never do her menial service." 
 
 Sir Philip continued to offer arguments and en- 
 treaties, but nothing that he said had the least effect 
 on Rosa ; he could not extort a promise from her, 
 nor perceive the slightest indication of conformity to 
 his wishes. But trusting that when the time came 
 she would of necessity submit to his authority, he re- 
 linquished his solicitations, and, quitting her side, 
 paced the deck with hurried, impatient footsteps. 
 
 There is no solitude to the good or bad. Nature
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 217 
 
 has her ministers that correspond v/ith the world 
 within the breast of man. The words " my king- 
 dom is within you," are worth all the metaphysical 
 discoveries ever made by unassisted human wisdom. 
 If all is right in that "kingdom," beautiful forms 
 and harmonious voices surround us, discoursing mu- 
 sic ; but if the mind is filled with guilty passions, 
 recollections of sin, and purposes of evil, the minis- 
 tering angels of Nature are converted into demons, 
 w^hose " monstrous rout are heard to howl like stable 
 wolves." Man cannot live in tranquil disobedience 
 to the law of virtue, inscribed on his soul by the fin- 
 ger of God. " Our torments" cannot " become our 
 elements." To Sir Philip's disordered imagination, 
 the heavy mist seemed like an infolding shroud; 
 there was a voice of sullen menace in the dashing 
 of the waves against the vessel ; the hooting of the 
 night-bird was ominous ; and Rosa's low sobs, and 
 the horrid oaths of the misruled crew, rung in his 
 ears like evil prophecies. 
 
 Time wore away heavily enough till ten, the ear- 
 liest moment he had calculated on the return of the 
 boat, but after that it appeared to stand stock-still. 
 He ordered the signal lights attached to the mast to 
 be doubled ; he strained his eyes in the vain at- 
 tempt to descry an approaching object, and then 
 cm'sed the fog that hemmed in his sight. Suddenly 
 a fresh breeze came off the shore, the fog dispersed, 
 and he could discern the few lights that still ghm- 
 mered from the habitations of the town, but no boat 
 was seen or heard. " What folly," he repeated to 
 
 Vol. II.— T
 
 218 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 himself a hundred times, ^' to be thus impatient ; they 
 certainly have not failed in their object, or relinquish- 
 ed it, for in that case they would have been here ', 
 it is scarcely time to expect them yet ;" but the sug- 
 gestions of reason could not calm the perturbations 
 of impatience. For another hour he continued to 
 stride the deck, approaching the light at every turn 
 to look at his watch. The sailors now began to fret 
 at the delay : " Everything was ready," they said ; 
 " good luck had sent them a fair breeze, and the tide 
 had just turned in their favour." And in Sir Philip's 
 favour too, it appeared ; for at this moment the long- 
 ed-for boat was both heard and seen rapidly nearing 
 the vessel. He gazed towards it as if it contained for 
 him a sentence of life or death ; and life it was, for 
 be soon perceived a female form wrapped in Chad- 
 dock's watch-cloak. 
 
 The boat came to the side of the vessel. " Has 
 the scoundrel dared to put his arm around Hope 
 Leslie ?" thought the knight, as he saw the captain's 
 arm encircling the unfortunate girl ; but a second 
 reflection told him that this, which seemed even to 
 him profanity, was but a necessary precaution. " He 
 dared not trust her ; she would have leaped into 
 the waves rather than have come to me — ungracious 
 girl !" 
 
 " What hath kept you ?" called out one of the 
 sailors. 
 
 " The devil and Antonio," replied the captain. 
 " We left him with the boat, and, w^hile w^e were 
 grapphng the prize, he ran away. I had to be
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 219 
 
 cliains and fetters to the prisoner : we had not hands 
 to man our oai^, so we waited for the fellow ; but 
 he came not, and has, doubtless, ere this, given the 
 alarm. Weigh your anchor and spread your sails, 
 boys; starting with this wind and tide, w^e'll give 
 them a devil of a chase, and bootless at last." 
 
 While this was saying, the unhappy victim was 
 lifted up the side of the vessel, and received in Sir 
 Philip's arms. She threw back the hood that had 
 been drawn over her head, and attempted to speak, 
 but was prevented by her kerchief, which the ruffians 
 had bound over her face to prevent the emission of 
 any sound. Sir Philip w^as shocked at the violence 
 and indignity she had suffered. " Did I not order 
 you, Chaddock," he said, " to treat the lady with all 
 possible respect ?" 
 
 " D — n your orders !" replied the captain ; " w^as 
 I to let her scream like forty sea-mews, and raise the 
 town upon us ?" 
 
 " A thousand — thousand pardons !" whispered Sir 
 Philip, in a low, imploring voice ; and then aloud to 
 Chaddock, " But after you left the town, captain, 
 you surely should have paid more respect to my ear- 
 nest and repeated injunctions." 
 
 " D — n your injunctions ! John Chaddock is yet 
 master of his vessel, and boat too. I tell you, w^hen 
 the fishing-smacks hailed us, that, even with that 
 close-reefed sail, she made a noise like a creaking 
 mast in a gale." 
 
 "Oh! forgive — forgive," whispered Sir Philip, 
 " this horrible, necessary outrage. Lean on me j I
 
 220 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 will conduct you away from these wretches ; a room 
 is prepared for you ; Rosa shall attend you ; you 
 are queen here; you command us all. Forgive — 
 forgive, and fear nothing. I will not remove your 
 screen till you are beyond the lawless gaze of these 
 fellows. Here, Roslin !" he called, for he still kept 
 up the farce of Rosa's disguise in the presence of the 
 ship's company, " here, Roslin ! take the lamp, and 
 follow me !" 
 
 Rosa obeyed, her bosom heaving with struggling 
 emotions, and her hand trembling so that she could 
 scarcely hold the lamp. " Bear the light up, and 
 more steadily, Roslin. Nay, my beloved, adored 
 mistress, do not falter ; hasten forward ; in one min- 
 ute more we shall be below, in your own domain, 
 where you may admit or exclude me at pleasure. 
 Do not struggle thus ; you have driven me to this 
 violence ; you must forgive the madness you have 
 caused. I am your slave for life." 
 
 They had just passed down the steps that served 
 as a companion-way, when Sir Philip observed, on 
 his right hand, an uncovered barrel of gunpowder. 
 It had been left in this exposed situation by a care- 
 less fellow, intrusted with the preparation of the 
 fire-arms for the expedition to the town. " Have a 
 care," cried Sir Philip to Rosa ,* " stay where you 
 are: do not approach that gunpowder with the 
 light." He heard a footstep above. " Here, friend," 
 he called, " lend us a hand ; come down and cover 
 this powder. We cannot discreetly move an inch." 
 The footsteps ceased, but there was no reply to the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 221 
 
 call. " I cannot leave Miss Leslie," continued Sir 
 Philip ; " she leans on me as if she were fainting. 
 Set down your lamp, Rosa, and come yourself and 
 cover the barrel." 
 
 Rosa did not set down the lamp, but moved for- 
 ward one or two steps w4th it in her hand, and then 
 paused. She seemed revolving some dreadful pur- 
 pose in her mind. Her eyes glanced wildly from Sir 
 Philip to his helpless victim ; then she groaned aloud, 
 and pressed her hand upon her head as if it were 
 bursting. 
 
 Sir Philip did not observe her ; he was intent upon 
 his companion. " She is certainly fainting," he said ; 
 "it is the close air and this cursed handkerchief!" 
 He attempted to remove it, but the knot by which it 
 was tied baffled his skill, and he again shouted to 
 Rosa, " Why do you not obey me ? Miss Leslie is 
 suffocating : set down the lamp, I say, and call as- 
 sistance. Damnation !" he screamed, " what means 
 the girl ?" as Rosa made one desperate leap forward, 
 and shrieking, " It cannot be worse for any of us !" 
 threw the lamp into the barrel. 
 
 The explosion was instantaneous : the hapless girl 
 — her guilty destroyer — his victim — the crew — the 
 vessel, rent to fragments, were hurled into the air, 
 and soon ingulfed in the waves. 
 T 2
 
 222 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " And how soon to- the bower she loved, they say, 
 Return'd the maid that was borne away 
 From Maquon, the fond and the brave." 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 After Miss Leslie's escape from Oneco on the 
 island, he remained for some time unconscious of 
 her departure, and entirely absorbed in his efforts to 
 quicken the energy of reviving life in his father; 
 and when he discovered that his prisoner had left 
 him, he still deemed her as certainly within his pow- 
 er on the sea-girt island as if she had been enclosed 
 by the walls of a prison. He felt that his father's 
 life depended on his obtaining an asylum as soon as 
 possible, and he determined to abandon his plan of 
 going to Narragansett, and instead, to cross the bay 
 to Moscutusett, the residence of the Son and succes- 
 sor of Chicetabot, an avowed ally of the English, 
 but really, in common with most of the powerful 
 chiefs, their secret enemy. 
 
 If, availing himself of the sheltering twilight of 
 the morning, he could convey his father safely to the 
 wigwam of his friend, Oneco believed he might se- 
 curely remain there for the present. In the mean 
 time, he shouM himself be at liberty to contrive and 
 attempt the recovery of his wife. The instrumental- 
 ity of Hope Leslie might be important to effect this
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 223 
 
 object, and she also might remain in safe custody 
 with the Indian chief. 
 
 Thus having digested his plans, before the morn- 
 ing dawned, and by the sufficient light of the moon, 
 he went in quest of his prisoner, but was destined, 
 as our readers know, to be disappointed. 
 
 He encountered Chaddock's crew much in the sit- 
 uation in which they were first discovered by Miss 
 Leslie ; for, after having been baffled in their pursuit 
 of her, they returned and recomposed themselves to 
 await the light of day, when they might give a sig- 
 nal to some boat to take them off the island. 
 
 Oneco, apprehending that, in the prosecution of 
 his search over the island, he might meet with some 
 straggler from this gang, very prudently disguised 
 himself in certain of the cast-off garments belonging 
 to the men, which would enable him to escape, at 
 least, immediate detection. This disguise, though 
 useless then, proved afterward of important service 
 to him. 
 
 Compelled by the approach of day to abandon 
 his search, he returned to his canoe, placed his father 
 in it, and rowed him to Sachem's Head, where he 
 was kindly received and cherished, though with the 
 utmost secrecy, for the Indians had long ere this 
 been taught, by painful experience, to guard against 
 the most dispiriting of all dangers — a danger to 
 which the weak, in the neighbourhood of a power- 
 ful and comparatively rich foe, are always exposed 
 — the treachery of their ow^n people. 
 
 The chief of Moscutusett obtained, from day to
 
 224 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 clay, intelligence of whatever transpired in Boston ; 
 and in this way Mononotto was apprized of the im- 
 prisonment and probable fate of Magawisca. This 
 w^as the last drop in his cup of bitterness ; worse, 
 far worse, than to have borne on his body the seve- 
 rest tortures ever devised by human cruelty. Mag- 
 awisca had obtained an ascendancy over her father's 
 mind by her extraordinary gifts and superior knowl- 
 edge. He loved her as his child ; he venerated her 
 as an inspired being. He might have endured to 
 have had her cut oif by the chances of war ; but to 
 have her arraigned before the tribunal of his enemies, 
 as amenable to their laws ; to have her die by the 
 hands of the executioner, as one of their own felon 
 subjects, pierced his national pride as well as his af- 
 fection, and he resigned himself to overwhelming 
 grief Oneco sorrowed for himself and sorrowed for 
 the old man's tears, but he felt nothing very deeply 
 but the loss of his " white bird." 
 
 All his ingenuity was employed to devise the means 
 of her escape. After having painted his face, hands, 
 and legs, so as effectually to conceal his tawny hue, 
 he appeared a foreign sailor in Madam Winthrop's 
 parlour. All succeeded better than his most sanguine 
 expectations. He contrived to give every necessary 
 hint to Faith Leslie ; and so happily veiled his lan- 
 guage by his indistinct and rapid utterance, that 
 Governor Winthrop, familiar as he was with the 
 sound of the Indian dialects, did not suspect him. 
 The family retired immediately after their evening 
 devotions : he laid himself down on the bed that
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 225 
 
 had been hospitably spread for him, and soon feign- 
 ed himself asleep. He watched the servants make 
 their last preparations for bed : the lights were ex- 
 tinguished and the fire raked up, though enough still 
 glimmered through the ashes to afford him a compe- 
 tent light when he should need it. The menials 
 withdrew : their footsteps had hardly ceased to vi- 
 brate on the ear, when his wife, impatient of any 
 farther delay, stole from her aunt's side, threw on 
 her dress, and with the light, bounding tread of a 
 fawn, passed down the stairs, through the hall, and 
 into the kitchen. Oneco started up, and in a trans- 
 port of joy would have locked her in his arms, when 
 Jennet appeared. She, like some other disagreea- 
 ble people, seemed to be gifted w^ith ubiquity, and 
 always to be present w-here happiness was to be in- 
 terrupted or mischief to be done. 
 
 She stood for an instant, her hands uplifted in si- 
 lent amazement, hesitating whether to alarm the fam- 
 ily with her outcries, or more quietly to give them 
 notice of the character of their guest. Oneco put a 
 sudden end to her deliberations. He first darted to 
 the door and closed it ; then drew a knife from his 
 bosom, and, pointing it at Jennet's heart, he told 
 her, in very bad English, but plainly interpreted by 
 his action, that if she moved or uttered a sound, his 
 knife should taste her life-blood. 
 
 Jennet saw determination in his aspect, and she 
 stood as still as if she were paralyzed or transfixed, 
 while Oneco proceeded to tell her that, to make all 
 sure, she should go with him to his canoe. He bade
 
 226 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 her calm her fears, for then he would release her, 
 provided that, in the mean time, she made no effort, 
 by voice or movement, to release herself. 
 
 There was no alternative, but she did beg to be al- 
 lowed to go to her room to get her bonnet and cloak. 
 Oneco smiled deridingly at the weak artifice by w^hich 
 she hoped to elude him ; but, deigning no other reply 
 to it, he caught a cloak which hung over a chair, 
 threw it over her, and, without any farther delay, 
 compelled her to follow him. 
 
 Oneco took good care to avoid the danger, slight 
 though it was, of encountering any passengers, by 
 directing his way through an unfrequented part of 
 the town. Impatience to be beyond the bounds of 
 danger, and the joy of escape and reunion, seemed 
 to lend wings to Jennet's companions, while she fol- 
 lowed breathless and panting, enraged at her com- 
 pelled attendance, and almost bursting with spite, to 
 which she could not give its natural vent by its cus- 
 tomary outlet the tongue, the safety-valve of many 
 a vexed spirit. 
 
 They had arrived very near to the cove where 
 Oneco had moored his canoe. He good-naturedly 
 pointed towards it, and told Jennet that there she 
 should be released. But the hope of release by a 
 mode much more satisfactory to her feelings, inas- 
 much as it would involve her companions in danger, 
 had dawned on Jennet. She had just perceived 
 some men (how many she could not tell, for the 
 night was then dark), who were, unobserved by 
 Oneco, stealing towards them. She withdrew a few
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 227 
 
 inches, as far as she dared from his side, lest he 
 should execute sudden vengeance \Yith the weapon 
 which he still held in his hand. Her conjectures 
 Avere now converted to certainty, and she already 
 mentally exulted in the retaliation she should inflict 
 on her companions ; but, alas ! 
 
 " Esser vicino al lido 
 Molti fra naufragar ;" 
 
 or, to express the same truth by our vernacular ad- 
 age, " There's many a slip between the cup and the 
 lip." The men did approach, even to her side ; and 
 without listening to her protestations of who she 
 was and who her companions were — without even 
 hearing them, they seized on her, and, suffering the 
 other parties to escape without any annoyance, 
 bound her hood and handkerchief over her head and 
 face, and, as our readers have already anticipated, 
 conveyed her to that awful destiny which she had 
 herself indirectly prepared. 
 
 It may excite some surprise that Chaddock, fore- 
 warned, as he had been, that the lady whom he was 
 to intercept would have no male attendant, should 
 not have hesitated when he saw Oneco. But that 
 may be explained by Oneco wearing the dress of the 
 ship's crew, and the natural conclusion, on Chad- 
 dock's part, that Antonio, whom he had left in the 
 boat, had come on shore, and probably just joined 
 these females. Chaddock's only care was to select 
 the shortest of the two women, and, obscure as the 
 night was, their relative height was apparent.
 
 228 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Basta cosi t'intendo 
 Gia ti spiegasti a pieno : 
 E mi diresti meno 
 Se mi dicessi piQ." 
 
 Metastasio. 
 
 We trust we have not exhausted the patience of 
 our readers, and that they will vouchsafe to go forth 
 with us once more, on the eventful evening on which 
 we have fallen, to watch the safe conduct of the re- 
 leased prisoner. 
 
 The fugitives had not proceeded many yards from 
 the jail when Everell joined them. This was the 
 first occasion on which Magawisca and Everell had 
 had an opportunity freely to interchange their feel- 
 ings. Everell's tongue faltered when he would 
 have expressed what he had felt for her : his manly, 
 generous nature disdained vulgar professions, and he 
 feared that his inetfectual efforts in her behalf had 
 left him without any other testimony of the constan- 
 cy of his friendship and the warmth of his gratitude. 
 
 Magawisca comprehended his feelings, and antici- 
 pated their expression. She related the scene with 
 Sir Philip in the prison, and dwelt long on her knowl- 
 edge of the attempt Everell then made to rescue 
 her. " That bad man," she said, "made me, for the 
 first time, lament for ray lost limb. He darkened
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 229 
 
 the clouds that were gathering over my soul ; and 
 for a little while, Everell, I did deem thee like most 
 of thy race, on whom kindness falls like drops of 
 rain on the lake, dimpling its surface for a moment, 
 but leaving no mark there ; but when I found thou 
 wert true," she continued, in a swelling, exulting 
 voice, " when I heard thee in my prison, and saw 
 thee on my trial, I again rejoiced that I had sacri- 
 ficed my precious limb for thee ; that I had worn 
 away the days and nights in the solitudes of the 
 forest, musing on the memory of thee, and count- 
 ing the moons till the Great Spirit shall bid us to 
 those regions where there will be no more gulfs be- 
 tween us, and I may hail thee as my brother." 
 
 " And why not now, Magawisca, regard me as 
 your brother ? True, neither time nor distance can 
 sever the bonds by which our souls are united ; but 
 why not enjoy this friendship while youth, and as 
 long as Hfe lasts 7 Nay, hear me, Magawisca ; the 
 present difference of the English with the Indians is 
 but a vapour, that has, even now, nearly passed 
 away. Go, for a short time, w^here you may be con- 
 cealed from those who are not yet prepared to do you 
 justice, and then — I will answer for it — every heart 
 and every voice will unite to recall you ; you shall be 
 welcomed w^ith the honour due to you from all, and 
 always cherished with the devotion due from us." 
 
 " Oh ! do not hesitate, Magawisca," cried Hope, 
 who had, till now, been only a listener to the con- 
 versation, in which she took a deep interest. " Prom- 
 ise us that you will return and dwell with us : as 
 
 Vol. IL— U
 
 230 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 you would say, Magawisca, we will walk in the 
 same path ; the same joys will shine on us ; and, if 
 need be that sorrows come over us, why, we will all 
 sit under their shadow together." 
 
 " It cannot be — it cannot be," replied Magawis- 
 ca, the persuasions of those she loved not for a mo- 
 ment overcoming her deep, invincible sense of the 
 wrongs her injured race had sustained. " My peo- 
 ple have been spoiled ; we cannot take as a gift that 
 which is our own ; the law of vengeance is written 
 on our hearts : you say you have a written rule of 
 forgiveness — it may be better if ye would be guided 
 by it ; it is not for us : the Indian and the white man 
 can no more mingle and become one than day and 
 night." 
 
 Everell and Hope would have interrupted her with 
 farther entreaties and arguments : " Touch no more 
 on that," she said ; " we must part, and forever." 
 Her voice faltered for the first time, and turning from 
 her own fate to what appeared to her the bright des- 
 tiny of her companions, " My spirit will joy in the 
 thought," she said, " that you are dwelling in love 
 and happiness together. Nelema told me your souls 
 were mated ; she said your affections mingled like 
 streams from the same fountain. Oh ! may the chains 
 by which He who sent you from the Spirit-land 
 bound you together, grow brighter and stronger till 
 you return thither again." 
 
 She paused : neither of her companions spoke — 
 neither could speak ; and, naturally misinterpreting 
 their silence, " Have I passed your bound of modes-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 231 
 
 ty," she said, " in speaking to the maiden as if she 
 were a wife ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, Magawisca," said Everell, feeling a 
 strange and undefinable pleasure in an illusion 
 which, though he could not for an instant partici- 
 pate, he would not for the world have dissipated ; 
 " oh, no ; do not check one expression — one word ; 
 they are your last to us." " And may not the last 
 words of a friend be, like the sayings of a death-bed, 
 prophetic ?" he would have added, but his lips re- 
 fused to utter what he felt was the treachery of his 
 heart. 
 
 To Hope it seemed that too much had already 
 been spoken. She could be prudent when anything 
 but her own safety depended on her discretion. Be- 
 fore Magawisca could reply to Everell, she gave a 
 turn to the conversation : " Ere we part, Magawis- 
 ca," she said, " cannot you give me some charm by 
 which I may win my sister's affections ? She is wast- 
 ing away with grief and pining." 
 
 " Ask your own heart, Hope Leslie, if any charm 
 could win your affections from Everell Fletcher ?" 
 
 She paused for a reply. The gulf from which 
 Hope had retreated seemed to be widening before 
 her ; but, summoning all her courage, she answered 
 with a tolerably firm voice, " Yes — yes, Magawisca ; 
 if virtue — if duty to others required it, I trust in Heav- 
 en I could command and direct my affections." 
 
 We hope Everell may be forgiven for the joy 
 that gushed through his heart when Hope expressed 
 a confidence in her own strength, which at least im-
 
 232 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 plied a consciousness that she needed it. Nature 
 •will rejoice in reciprocated love, under whatever ad- 
 versities it conies. 
 
 Magawisca replied to Hope's apparent meaning : 
 "Both virtue and duty," she said, " bind your sister 
 to Oneco. She hath been married according to our 
 simple modes, and persuaded by a Romish father, as 
 she came from Christian blood, to observe the rites 
 of their law. When she flies from you, as she will, 
 mourn not over her, Hope Leslie; the wild flower 
 would p'epish in your gardens ; the forest is like a 
 native home to her, and she will sing as gayly again 
 as the bird that hath found its mate." 
 
 They now approached the place where Digby, 
 with a trusty friend, was awaiting them. A hght 
 canoe had been provided, and Digby had his instruc- 
 tions from Everell to convey Magawisca to any place 
 she might herself select. The good fellow^ had en- 
 tered into the confederacy with hearty good-will, 
 giving, as a reason for his obedience to the impulse 
 of his heart, " that the poor Indian girl could not 
 commit sins enough against the English to \veigh 
 down her good deed to Mr. Everell." 
 
 Everell now inquired of Magawisca whither he 
 should direct the boat : " To Moscutusett," she said ; 
 " I shall there get tidings, at least, of my father." 
 
 " And must we now part, Magawisca ? Must we 
 live without you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, no," cried Hope, joining her entreaties, 
 " your noble mind must not be w^asted in those hid- 
 eous solitudes."
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 233 
 
 " Solitudes !" echoed Magawisca, in a voice in 
 which some pride mingled with her parting sadness ; 
 " Hope Leslie, there is no solitude to me ; the Great 
 Spirit and his ministers are everywhere present and 
 visible to the eye of the soul that loves him ; Nature 
 is but his interpreter ; her forms are but bodies for 
 his spirit. I hear him in the rushing winds — in the 
 summer breeze — in the gushing fountains — in the 
 softly running streams. I see him in the bursting 
 life of spring — in the ripening maize — in the falling 
 leaf. Those beautiful lights," and she pointed up- 
 ward, " that shine alike on your stately domes and 
 our forest homes, speak to me of his love to all : 
 think you I go to a solitude, Hope Leslie ?" 
 
 " No, Magawisca ; there is no solitude, nor pri- 
 vation, nor sorrow to a soul that thus feels the pres- 
 ence of God," replied Hope. She paused : it was 
 not a time for calm reflection or protracted solicita- 
 tion ; but the thought that a mind so disposed to re- 
 ligious impressions and affections might enjoy the 
 brighter light of Christian revelation — a revelation 
 so much higher, nobler, and fuller than that which 
 proceeds from the voice of Nature — made Hope feel 
 a more intense desire than ever to retain Magawis- 
 ca ; but this was a motive Magawisca could not now 
 appreciate, and she could not, therefore, urge : " I 
 cannot ask you," she said, " I do not ask you, for 
 your sake, but for ours, to return to us." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, Magawisca," urged Everell, " come 
 back to us, and teach us to be happy, as you are, 
 without human help or agency." 
 U 2
 
 234 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 " Ah !" she replied, with a faint smile, " ye need 
 not the lesson ; ye will each be to the other a full 
 stream of happiness. May it be fed from the fount- 
 ain of love, and grow broader and deeper through 
 all the passage of life." 
 
 The picture Magawisca presented was, in the 
 minds of the lovers, too painfully contrasted with the 
 real state of their affairs. Both felt their emotions 
 were beyond their control ; both silently appealed to 
 Heaven to aid them in repressing feelings that might 
 not be expressed. 
 
 Hope naturally sought relief in action. She took 
 a morocco case from her pocket, and drew from it a 
 rich gold chain, with a clasp containing hair, and set 
 round with precious stones : " Magawisca," she said, 
 with as much steadiness of voice as she could assume, 
 " take this token with you ; it will serve as a memo- 
 rial of us both ; for I have put in the clasp a lock of 
 Everell's hair, taken from his head when he was a 
 boy, at Bethel : it will remind you of your happiest 
 days there." 
 
 Magawisca took the chain, and held it in her hand 
 a moment, as if deliberating. " This is beautiful," 
 she said, " and would, when I am far away from 
 thee, speak sweetly to me of thy kindness, Hope 
 Leslie. But I would rather, if I could demean ray- 
 self to be a beggar — " she hesitated, and then added, 
 "I wrong thy generous nature in fearing thus to 
 speak ; I know thou wilt freely give me the image, 
 when thou hast the living form." 
 
 Before she had finished, Hope's quick apprehen-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 235 
 
 sion had comprehended her meaning. Immediately 
 after Everell's arrival in England, he had, at his fa- 
 ther's desire, had a small miniature of himself paint- 
 ed, and sent to Hope. She attached it to a riband, 
 and had always worn it. Soon after Everell's en- 
 gagement to Miss Downing, she took it off to put it 
 aside ; but feeling, at the moment, that this action 
 implied a consciousness of weakness, she, with a 
 mixed feeling of pride and reluctance to part with 
 it, restored it to her bosom. While she was adjust- 
 ing Magawisca's disguise in the prison, the miniature 
 slid from beneath her dress, and she, at the time, ob- 
 served that Magawisca's eye rested intently on it. 
 She must not now hesitate ; Everell must not see her 
 reluctance ; and yet, such are the strange contrarie- 
 ties of human feeling, the severest pang she felt in 
 parting with it was the fear that Everell would think 
 it was a w^illing gift. Hoping to shelter all her feel- 
 ings in the haste of the action, she took the miniature 
 from her own neck and tied it around Magawisca's. 
 " You have but reminded me of my duty," she said; 
 " nay, keep them both, Magawisca ; do not stint the 
 little kindness I can show you." 
 
 Digby had at this moment come up to urge no 
 more delay ; and we leave to others to adjust the 
 proportions of emotion that were indicated by Hope's 
 faltering voice and an irrepressible burst of tears, 
 between her grief at parting and other and secret 
 feelings. 
 
 All stood as if they were riveted to the ground 
 till Digby again spoke, and suggested the danger to
 
 236 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 which Magawisca was exposed by this delay. All 
 felt the necessity of immediate separation, and all 
 shrank from it as from witnessing the last gasp of 
 life. They moved to the water's edge, and once 
 more prompted by Digby, Everell and Hope, in bro- 
 ken voices, expressed their last wishes and prayers. 
 Magawisca joined their hands, and bowing her head 
 on them, " The Great Spirit guide ye," she said, and 
 then, turning away, leaped into the boat, muffled her 
 face in her mantle, and in a few brief moments dis- 
 appeared forever from their sight. 
 
 Everell and Hope remained immovable, gazing on 
 the little boat till it faded in the dim distance : for a 
 few moments, every feeling for themselves was lost 
 in the grief of parting forever from this admirable 
 being, who seemed, to her enthusiastic young friends, 
 one of the noblest of the w^orks of God — a bright 
 witness to the beauty, the independence, and the im- 
 mortality of virtue. They breathed their silent 
 prayers for her ; and when their thoughts returned 
 to themselves, there was a consciousness of perfect 
 unity of feeling — a joy in the sympathy that was 
 consecrated by its object and might be innocently in- 
 dulged, that was a delicious spell to their troubled 
 hearts. 
 
 Strong as the temptation was, they both felt the 
 impropriety of lingering where they were, and they 
 bent their slow, unwilling footsteps homeward. Not 
 one word, during the long-protracted walk, was spo- 
 ken by either : but no language could have been so 
 expressive of their mutual love and mutual resolu-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 237 
 
 tion as this silence. They both afterward confessed 
 that, though they had never felt so deeply as at that 
 moment the bitterness of their divided destiny, yet 
 neither had they before known the worth of those 
 principles of virtue that can subdue the strongest pas- 
 sions to their obedience : an experience worth a 
 tenfold suffering. 
 
 As they approached Governor Winthrop's, they 
 observed that, instead of the profound darkness and 
 silence that usually reigned in that exemplary man- 
 sion at eleven o'clock, the house seemed to be in 
 great bustle. The doors were open, and they heard 
 loud voices, and lights were swiftly passing from 
 room to room. Hope inferred that, notwithstanding 
 her precautions, the apprehensions of the family had 
 probably been excited in regard to her untimely ab- 
 sence, and she passed the little distance that remain- 
 ed with dutiful haste. Everell attended her to the 
 gate of the court, and, pressing her hand to his lips 
 with an emotion that he felt he might indulge for the 
 last time, he left her, and went, according to a previ- 
 ous determination, to Barnaby Tuttle's, where, by a 
 surrender of himself to the jailer's custody, he expect- 
 ed to relieve poor Cradock from his involuntary con- 
 finement.
 
 238 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 " Quelque rare que soil le veritable amour il Test encore moins 
 que la veritable amitie,"— Rochefoucauld. 
 
 Hope Leslie met Mr. Fletcher at the threshold of 
 the door. He was sallying forth with hasty steps 
 and disordered looks. He started at the sight of her, 
 and then, clasping her in his arms, exclaimed, " My 
 child ! my child ! my precious child !" 
 
 At the sound of his voice, the whole family rushed 
 from the parlour. " Praised be the Lord for thy de- 
 liverance, Hope Leslie !" cried Governor Winthrop, 
 clasping his hands with astonishment. Mrs. Graf- 
 ton gave vent to her feelings in hysterical sobbings 
 and inarticulate murmurs of joy. Madam Winthrop 
 said, " I thought it was impossible ; I told you the 
 Lord would be better to you than your fears :" and 
 Esther Downing embraced her friend with deep 
 emotion, whispering as she did so, " The Lord is ever 
 better to us than our fears or our deservmgs." 
 
 It was obvious to our heroine that all this excite- 
 ment and overflowing of tenderness could not be 
 occasioned merely by her unseasonable absence, and 
 she begged to know what had caused so much alarm. 
 
 The governor was beginning, in his official man- 
 ner, a formal statement, when, as if the agitations of 
 this eventful evening were never to end, the explo-
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 239 
 
 sion of Chaddock's vessel broke in upon their return- 
 ing tranquillity, and spread a panic through the town 
 of Boston. 
 
 The occurrence of the accident, at this particular 
 moment, was fortunate for Magawisca, as it prevent- 
 ed a premature discovery of her escape ; a discovery 
 by which the governor would have felt himself 
 obhged to take measures for her recapture that 
 might then have proved effectual. The explosion, 
 of course, withdrew^ his attention from all other sub- 
 jects, and both he and Mr. Fletcher w^ent out to as- 
 certain whence it had proceeded, and what ill conse- 
 quences had ensued. 
 
 In the mean time, Hope learned the following par- 
 ticulars from the ladies. The family had retired to 
 bed at the accustomed time, and, about half an hour 
 before her return, were alarmed by a violent knock- 
 ing at the outer door. The servant first awakened 
 let in a stranger, who demanded an immediate au- 
 dience of the governor, concerning matters of life 
 and death. The stranger proved to be Antonio, and 
 his communication, the conspiracy wuth which our 
 readers are well acquainted, or, rather, as much of it 
 as had fallen within the knowledge of the subordi- 
 nate agents. Antonio declared that, having within 
 the harbour of Boston been favom'ed with an extra- 
 ordinary visitation from his tutelar saint, who had 
 vouchsafed to warn him against his sinful comrades, 
 he had determined, from the first, that he would, if 
 possible, prevent the wicked designs of the conspira- 
 tors J and for that purpose had solicited to be among
 
 240 - HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the number who were sent on shore, intending to 
 give notice to the governor in time for him to coun- 
 teract the wicked project : he averred that, after quit- 
 ting the boat, he had heard the screams of the un- 
 happy girl when she was seized by the sailors ; he 
 had been spurred to all possible haste, but, unhap- 
 pily, ignorant of the town, had strayed out of his 
 way in coming from the cove, and, finally, had found 
 it almost impossible to rouse any of the sleeping in- 
 habitants to guide him to the governor's. 
 
 Antonio knew the name of the author of this 
 guilty project to be Sir Philip Gardiner, and its vic- 
 tim. Miss Leslie. These names were fearful hints to 
 the governor, and had prevented his listening with 
 utter incredulity to the tale of the stranger. As the 
 easiest means of obtaining its confirmation or refuta- 
 tion, a messenger was despatched to Sir Philip's 
 lodgings, who almost instantly returned with the in- 
 telligence that he, his page and baggage, had clan- 
 destinely disappeared during the evening. This was 
 a frightful coincidence; and, while the governor's 
 orders that all the family should be called were ex- 
 ecuting, he made one farther investigation. 
 
 He recollected the packet of letters which Rosa 
 had given to her master during the trial. Sir Philip 
 had laid them on the table, and, forgetting them in 
 the confusion that followed, the governor had taken 
 possession of them, intending to restore them at the 
 first opportunity. He felt himself now not only au- 
 thorized to break the seals, but compelled to that 
 discourtesy. The letters were from a confidential
 
 HOPE LESLIE. ' 241 
 
 correspondent, and proved beyond a doubt that Sir 
 Philip had formerly been the p'otege and ally of 
 Thomas Morton, the old political enemy of the col- 
 ony ; that he was a Roman Catholic ; of course, that 
 the governor and his friends had been duped by his 
 religious pretensions ; and, in short, that he was an 
 utter profligate, who regarded neither the laws of 
 God nor man. 
 
 And into the powder of this wretch the friends of 
 Miss Leslie were left, for a few agonizing moments, 
 to believe she had fallen ; and their joy at her ap- 
 pearance W'as, as may be believed, commensurate 
 with their previous distress. 
 
 Some of the minor incidents of the evening now 
 transpired. One of the servants reported that the 
 young sailor had disappeared; and Mrs. Grafton 
 suddenly recollected to have observed that Faith 
 Leslie was not with her when she was awakened, a 
 circumstance she had overlooked in her subsequent 
 agitation. By a single clew an intricate maze may 
 be threaded. Madam Winthrop now recalled Faith 
 Leslie's emotion at the first sound of the sailor's voice, 
 and the ladies soon arrived at the right conclusion, 
 that he was in reality Oneco, and that they had ef- 
 fected their escape together. Jennet (if Jennet had 
 survived to hear it, she never would have believed 
 the tale), the only actual sufferer, was the only one 
 neither missed nor inquired for. Good Master Cra- 
 dock was not forgotten ; but his friends were sat- 
 isfied with Miss Leslie's assurance that he was safe, 
 and would probably not return before the morning. 
 
 Vol. II.— X
 
 242 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 The final departure of her sister cost Hope many 
 regrets and tears. But an inevitable event of such 
 a nature cannot seriously disturb the happiness of 
 life. There had been nothing in the intercourse of 
 the sisters to excite Hope's affections. Faith had 
 been spiritless, wo-begone — a soulless body — and 
 had repelled, with sullen indifference, all Hope's ef- 
 forts to win her love. Indeed, she looked upon the 
 attentions of her English friends but as a continua- 
 tion of the unjust force by which they had severed 
 her from all she held dear. Her marriage, solem- 
 nized, as it had been, by prescribed Christian rites, 
 would probably have been considered by her guar- 
 dian and his friends as invalidated by her extreme 
 youth, and the circumstances which had led to the 
 union. But Hope took a more youthful, romantic, 
 and, perhaps, natural view of the affair ; and the sug- 
 gestions of Magawisca, combining with the dictates 
 of her own heart, produced the conclusion that this 
 was a case where *' God had joined together, and 
 man might not put asunder." 
 
 All proper (though, it may be, not very vigorous) 
 measures were taken by Governor Winthrop, on the 
 following day, to discover the retreat of the fugi- 
 tives, but the secret was faithfully kept while ne- 
 cessary to their security. 
 
 The return of his children, and, above all, of Mag- 
 awisca, seemed to work miracles on their old father ; 
 his health and strength were renewed, and for a 
 while he forgot, in the powerful influence of her 
 . presence, his wrongs and sorrows. He would not
 
 $ 
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 243 
 
 hazard the safety of his protector and that of his 
 own family by lingering a single day in the vicinity 
 of his enemies. 
 
 Before the dawn of the next morning, this little 
 remnant of the Pequod race — a name at which, but 
 a few years before, all within the bounds of the New- 
 England colonies — all, English and Indians, " grew 
 pale" — began their pilgrimage to the far western 
 forests. That which remains untold of their story is 
 lost in the deep, voiceless obscurity of those unknown 
 regions. 
 
 The terrors her friends had suffered on account of 
 our heroine, induced them to overlook everything 
 but the joy of her safety. She was permitted to re- 
 tire with Esther to their own apartment, without any 
 inquisition being made into the cause of her extraor- 
 dinary absence. Even her friend, when they were 
 alone together, made no allusion to it, and Hope 
 rightly concluded that she was satisfied with her 
 own conjectures as to its object. 
 
 Hope could scarcely refrain from indulging the 
 natural frankness of her temper, by disclosing, unso- 
 licited, the particulars of her successful enterprise ; 
 and she only checked the inclinations of her heart 
 from the apprehension that Esther might deem it her 
 duty to extend her knowledge to her uncle, and thus 
 Magawisca might be again endangered. " She cer- 
 tainly conjectures how it is," thought Hope, making 
 her own mental comments on Esther's forbearance ; 
 " and yet she does not indicate the least displeasure 
 at my having combined with Everell to render the
 
 244 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 delightful service that her severe conscience would 
 not allov»r her to perform. She never spoke to me 
 with more tenderness : how could I ever suspect her 
 of jealousy or distrust ? She is incapable of either — 
 she is angelic ', far, far more deserving of Everell 
 than I am." 
 
 At this last thought, a half-stifled but audible sigh 
 escaped her, and reached her friend's ear. Their 
 eyes met. A deep, scorching blush suffused Hope's 
 cheeks, brow, and neck. Esther's face beamed with 
 ineffable sweetness and serenity. She looked as a 
 mortal can look only when the world and its tempt- 
 ations are trampled beneath the feet, and the eye is 
 calmly, steadily, immovably fixed on Heaven. She 
 folded Hope in her arms, and pressed her fondly to 
 her heart, but not a word, tear, or sigh escaped her. 
 Her soul was composed to a profound stillness, in- 
 capable of being disturbed by her friend's tears and 
 sobs, the involuntary expression of her agitated, 
 confused, and irrepressible feelings. 
 
 Hope turned away from Esther and crept into her 
 bed, feeling, like a condemned culprit, self-condemn- 
 ed. It seemed to her that a charm had been wrought 
 on her ; a sudden illumination had flashed from her 
 friend's face into the most secret recesses of her 
 heart, and exposed — this was her most distressful 
 apprehension — to Esther's eye feelings w^hose exist- 
 ence, till thus revealed to another (and the last per- 
 son in the world to whom they should be revealed), 
 she had only, and reluctantly, acknowledged to her- 
 self.
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 245 
 
 Deeply mortified and humbled, she remained 
 wakeful, weeping and lamenting this sudden expo- 
 sure of emotions that she feared could never be ex- 
 plained or forgotten, long after her friend had encir- 
 cled her in her arms, and fallen into a sw^eet and pro- 
 found sleep. 
 
 We must leave the apartment of the generous and 
 involuntary rivals to repair to the parlour, where 
 Governor Winthrop, after having ascertained that 
 Chaddock's vessel had been blown up by the explo- 
 sion, w^as hstening to Barnaby Tuttle's relation of the 
 transaction at the prison. 
 
 The simple jailer, on learning from EverelPs con- 
 fessions how he had been cajoled, declined increasing 
 his responsibilities by making the exchange Everell 
 proposed, but very readily acceded to his next prop- 
 osition, namely, that he should be permitted to 
 share the imprisonment of Cradock. On entering 
 the dungeon, they found the good old man sleeping 
 as soundly on Magawisca's pallet as if he w^ere in 
 his own apartment ; and Everell, rejoicing that he 
 had suffered so httle in the good cause to w^hich it 
 had been necessary to make him accessory, and ex- 
 ulting in the success of his enterprise, took possession 
 of his dark and miserable cell with feelings that he 
 would not have bartered for those of a conqueror 
 mounting his triumphal car. 
 
 Barnaby had a natural feeling of vexation at hav- 
 ing been outwitted by Hope Leslie's stratagems ; but 
 it was a transient emotion, and not strong enough to 
 check the habitual current of his gratitude and affec- 
 X 2
 
 240 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 tion for her, nor did it at all enter into his relation of 
 the facts to the governor. On the contrary, his nat- 
 ural kind-heartedness rendered the statement favour- 
 able towards all parties. 
 
 He did not mention Magawisca's name without a 
 parenthesis, containing some commendation of her 
 deportment in the prison. He spoke of Hope Leslie as 
 the " thoughtless child," or the " feeling young crea- 
 ture." Master Cradock was " the poor, witless old 
 gentleman ;" and " for Mr. Everell, it was not with- 
 in the bounds of human nature, in his peculiar case, 
 not to feel as he did ; and as to himself, he w^as but 
 an old dotard, ill fitted to keep bars and bolts, when 
 a child — the Lord and the governor forgive her ! — 
 could guide him with a wisp of straw." 
 
 Nothing was farther from Barnaby Tuttle's 
 thoughts than any endeavour to blind or pervert a 
 ruler's judgment ; but the governor found something 
 infectious in his artless humanity. Besides, he had 
 one good, sufficient, and state reason for extenuating 
 the offence of the young conspirators, and of this he 
 made a broad canopy to shelter his secret and kind 
 dispositions towards them. A messenger had that 
 day arrived from the chief of the Narragansetts, with 
 the information that a war had broken out between 
 Miantunnoraoh and Uncas, and an earnest solicita- 
 tion that the English would not interfere with their 
 domestic quarrels. 
 
 To our ancestors it appeared their melancholy 
 policy to promote rather than to allay these feuds 
 among the tribes; and a war between these rival
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 247 
 
 and powerful chieftains assured, while it lasted, the 
 safety of the English settlements. It became, there- 
 fore, very important to avoid any act that might pro- 
 voke the universal Indian sentiment against the Eng- 
 lish, and induce them to forego their civil quarrel, 
 and combine against the common enemy. This 
 would be the probable effect of the condemnation 
 of the Pequod girl, whose cause had been espoused 
 by several of the tribes : still, on a farther investiga- 
 tion of her case, the laws might require her condem- 
 nation ; and the Puritans held firmly ta the principle 
 that good must be done, though evil ensue. 
 
 Governor Winthrop perceived that Magawisca's 
 escape relieved them from much and dangerous per- 
 plexity ; and though Everell Fletcher's interposition 
 had been unlawful and indecorous, yet, as Providence 
 had made him the instrument of otitain good, he 
 thought his offence might be pardoned by his asso- 
 ciates in authority. 
 
 He dismissed Barnaby with an order to appear 
 before him with his prisoners at six o'clock the fol- 
 lowing mornino'. At that hour he assembled tos^eth- 
 er such of the magistrates and deputies as were in 
 Boston, deeming it, as he said, proper to give them 
 the earliest notice of the various important circum- 
 stances that had occurred since the morning of the 
 preceding day. 
 
 He opened the meeting with a communication of 
 the important intelligence received from the Narra- 
 gansett chief; intimated the politic uses to which his 
 brethren might apply it ; then, after some general
 
 248 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 observations on the imperfection of human wisdom, 
 disclosed at full the iniquitous character and conduct 
 of Sir Philip Gardiner ; lamented, in particular, that 
 he had been grievously deceived by that crafty son 
 of Belial, and then dwelt on the wonderful interpo- 
 sition of Providence in behalf of Hope Leslie, which 
 clearly intimated, as he said, and all his auditors ac- 
 knowledged, that the young maiden's life was pre- 
 cious in the sight of the Lord, and was preserved for 
 some special purpose. 
 
 He called their attention to the light thrown on 
 the testimony of Sir Philip against the Indian pris- 
 oner by his real character ; and, last of all, he com- 
 municated the escape of Magawisca, and the means 
 by which it had been accomplished, with this com- 
 ment simply, that it had pleased the Lord to bring 
 about great good to the land by this rash act of two 
 young persons, who seemed to have been wrought 
 upon by feelings natural to youth, and the foolishness 
 of an old man, whose original modicum of sense was 
 greatly diminished by age and excess of useless 
 learning ; for, he said. Master Cradock not only 
 wrote Greek and Latin, and talked Hebrew like the 
 Rev. Mr. Cotton, but he w^as skilled in Arabic and 
 the modern tongues. 
 
 The governor then proceeded to give many and 
 plausible reasons, with the detail of which it is not 
 necessary to weary the patience of our readers, why 
 this case, in the absence of a precise law, should be 
 put under the government of mercy. His associates 
 lent a favourable ear to these suggestions. Most of
 
 HOPE LESLIE, 249 
 
 them considered the offence very much alleviated by 
 the youth of the two principal parties, and the strong 
 motives that actuated them. Some of the magis- 
 trates were warm friends of the elder Fletcher, and 
 all of them might have been quickened in their de- 
 cision by the approach of the breakfast hour ; for, as 
 modern philosophy has discovered, the mind and 
 senwsibilities are much under the dominion of these 
 periodical returns of the hours of refection. 
 
 The conclusion of the whole matter was, that Miss 
 Leslie and Master Cradock should receive a private 
 admonition from the governor, and a free pardon; 
 and that Mr. Everell Fletcher should be restored to 
 liberty on condition that, at the next sitting of the 
 court, he appeared in the prisoner's bar to receive a 
 public censure, and be admonished as to his future 
 carriage. To this sentence Everell submitted at the 
 proper time with due humility, and a very becom- 
 ing, and, as said the elders, edifying modesty. 
 
 Throughout the whole affair, Governor Winthrop 
 manifested those dispositions to clemency which were 
 so beautifully illustrated by one of the last circum- 
 stances of his life, when, being, as is reported of 
 him, upon his deathbed, Mr. Dudley pressed him to 
 sign an order of banishment of an heterodox person, 
 he refused, saying, " / have done too much of that 
 icork already." 
 
 Everell and Master Cradock, who had awaited in 
 an adjoining apartment the result of these delibera- 
 tions, were now informed of the merciful decision of 
 their judges, and summoned to take their places at
 
 250 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 the breakfast-table. While all this business was 
 transpiring, Hope Leslie, wearied by the fatigues, 
 agitations, and protracted vigil of the preceding- 
 night, w^as sleeping most profoundly. She awoke 
 •with a confused sense of her last anxious waking 
 thoughts, and naturally turned to look for Esther; 
 but Esther had already risen. This excited no sur- 
 prise ; for it must be confessed that our heroine was 
 often anticipated in early rising, as in other severe 
 duties, by her friend. Admonished by a broad sun- 
 beam that streamed aslant her apartment that she 
 had already trespassed on the family breakfast hour, 
 she rose and despatched her toilet duties. Her mind 
 was still intent on Esther, and suddenly she missed 
 some familiar objects : Esther's morocco dressing- 
 case and Bible, that always laid at hand on the 
 dressing-table. Hope w^as at that moment adjusting 
 her hair ; she dropped her comb — cast a hasty sur- 
 vey around the room. Esther's trunks, bandboxes, 
 every article belonging to her had disappeared. 
 " What could this mean ?" Some solution of the 
 mystery might have dawned from the recollections 
 of the preceding night ; but, impatient for a full ex- 
 planation, she seized her whistle, opened the door, 
 and blew for Jennet till its shrill notes had penetra- 
 ted every recess of the house. But no Jennet ap- 
 peared ; and, without waiting to adjust her hair, 
 which she left in what is called disorder, but accord- 
 ing to the natural and beautiful order of nature, and 
 with a flushed cheek and beating heart, she hasti- 
 ly descended to the parlour, and, dispensing with the
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 251 
 
 customary morning salutations, eagerly demanded, 
 " Where is Esther V 
 
 The family were all assembled, and all at the 
 breakfast-table. Her sudden appearance produced 
 an apparent sensation ; every eye turned towards 
 her. Mrs. Grafton would have impulsively answer- 
 ed her question, but she was prevented by an inti- 
 mation from Madam Winthrop. Everell's eye, at the 
 sight of her, had flashed a bright, intelligent glance, 
 but at her interrogatory it fell, and then turned on 
 Madam Winthrop inquiringly, indicating that he 
 now, for the first time, perceived that there was 
 something extraordinary in the absence of her niece. 
 
 Hope still stood with the door half open, her emo- 
 tions in no degree tranquillized by the reception of 
 her inquiry. 
 
 Governor Winthrop turned to her with his usual 
 ceremony. " Good-morning, Miss Hope Leslie ; be 
 good enough to close the door — the wind is easterly 
 this morning. You are somewhat tardy, but we know 
 you have abundant reason : take your seat, my child ; 
 apologies are unnecessary." 
 
 Madam Winthrop beckoned to Hope to take a 
 chair next her, and Hope moved to the table me- 
 chanically, feeling as if she had been paralyzed by 
 some gorgon influence. Her question was not even 
 adverted to — no allusion was made to Esther. Hope 
 observed that Madam Winthrop's eyes were red with 
 weeping, and she also observed that, in offering the 
 little civilities of the table, she addressed her in a 
 voice of unusual kindness.
 
 252 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 She dared not look again at Everell, whose unex- 
 pected release from confinement would, at any other 
 time, have fully occupied her thoughts, and her per- 
 plexity was rather increased by seeing her guardian's 
 eyes repeatedly fdl with " soft tears unshed," while 
 they rested on her with even more than their usual 
 fondness. 
 
 Impatient and embarrassed as she was, it seemed 
 to her the breakfast would never end ; and she was 
 in despair when her aunt asked for her third and her 
 fourth cup of chocolate, and when the dismissal of 
 the table awaited old Cradock's discussion of a re- 
 plenished plate of fish, from which he painfully and 
 patiently abstracted the bones. But all finite opera- 
 tions have their period : the breakfast did end, the 
 company rose, and all left the parlour, one after an- 
 other, save the two Fletchers, Madam Winthrop, and 
 our heroine. 
 
 Hope would have followed her aunt — any farther 
 delay seemed insupportable — but Madam Winthrop 
 took her hand and detained her. " Stay, my young 
 friend," she said -, " I have an important communi- 
 cation, which could not be suitably made till this 
 moment." She took a sealed letter from her pocket. 
 " Nay, Hope Leslie, grow not so suddenly pale ; no 
 blame is attached to thee — nor to thee, Mr. Everell 
 Fletcher, who art even more deeply concerned in this 
 matter. Both the governor and myself have duly 
 weighed all the circumstances, and have most heart- 
 ily approved of that which she hath done, who, near 
 and dear as she is to us in the flesh, is still nearer
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 253 
 
 and dearer by those precious gifts and graces that do 
 so far exalt her (I would offend none present) above 
 all other maidens. Truly, ' if many do virtuously,' 
 Esther ' excelleth them all.' " 
 
 Hope was obliged to lean against the wall for sup- 
 port. The elder Fletcher looked earnestly at Madam 
 Winthrop, as if he would have said, " For Heaven's 
 sake, do not protract this scene." Perhaps she un- 
 derstood his glance — perhaps she took counsel from 
 her own womanly feelings. " This letter, my young 
 friends," she said, " is addressed to you both, and it 
 was my niece's request that you should read it at 
 the same time." 
 
 Madam Winthrop kindly withdrew. Everell 
 broke the seal, and both he and Hope, complying 
 faithfully with Miss Downing's injunction, read to- 
 gether, to the very last word, the letter that follows : 
 
 "To MY DEAR AND KIND FRIENDS, EvERELL FlETCHER AND 
 
 Hope Leslie : 
 
 " When you read these lines, the only bar to your 
 earthly happiness will be removed. With the ad- 
 vice and consent of my honoured uncle and aunt, I 
 have taken passage in the ' Lion,' which, as you 
 know, is on the eve of saihng for London. With 
 God's blessing on my present purposes, I shall re- 
 main there, with my father, till he has closed his af- 
 fairs in the Old World, and then come hither asfain. 
 
 " Do not think, my dear friends, I am fleeing 
 away, because, as matters stand between us, I can- 
 not abide to stay here. For your sakes— for I would 
 
 Vol. n.— Y
 
 254 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 not give you needless pain — I go for a little while. 
 For myself, 1 have contentment of mind. It hath 
 pleased God to give me glimpses of Christian hap- 
 piness, the foundations of which are not laid on the 
 earth, and therefore cannot be removed or jostled by 
 any of the cross accidents of life. 
 
 *' There have been some notable errors in the past. 
 We have all erred, and I most of all. My error 
 hath been exceeding humbling to the pride of woman ; 
 yours, Hope Leslie, w^as of the nature of your dispo- 
 sition — rash and generous ; and you, Everell (I speak 
 it not reproachfully, but as being truth-bound), have 
 not dealt with Gospel sincerity. I appeal to thine 
 ow^n heart : would it not have been better, as well 
 as kinder, to have said, * Esther, I do not love thee,' 
 than to have permitted me to follow my silly ima- 
 ginings, and thereby have sacrificed my happiness for 
 this world, and thine, and Hope Leslie's? for I 
 think, and am sure, you never did me the wrong to 
 believe I w^ould knowingly have taken thy hand 
 without thy affections — all of them (at least such 
 measure as may be given to an earthly friend) being 
 pooT and weak enough to answer to the many calls 
 of life. 
 
 " It is fitting, that, having been guided to a safe 
 harbour by the good providence of God, we should 
 look back (not reproachfully — God forbid ! — but with 
 gratitude and humility) on the dark and crooked 
 passages through which we have passed. Neither 
 our virtue (I speak it humbly) nor our happiness 
 has been wrecked. Ye will in no wise wonder
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 255 
 
 that I speak thus assuredly of your happiness ; but, 
 resting your eye on the past, you might justly deem 
 that, for myself, I have fallen into the ' foolishness of 
 boasting;' not so. In another strength than mine 
 own I have overcome, and am of good cheer, and 
 well assured that, as the world hath not given me 
 my joy, the world cannot take it away. 
 
 " For the rest, I shall ever rejoice that my affec- 
 tions settled on one worthy of them ; one for whom 
 I shall hereafter feel a sister's love, and one who 
 will not withhold a brother's kindness. And to thee, 
 my loving, my own sweet and precious Hope Les- 
 lie, I resign him. And may He who, by his signal 
 providence, hath so wonderfully restored in you the 
 sundered affections of your parents, knitting, even 
 from your childish years, your hearts together in love 
 — may He make you his own dear and faithful chil- 
 dren in the Lord. 
 
 " Thus, hoping for your immediate union and 
 worldly w^ell-being, ever prays your true and devo- 
 ted friend, Esther Downing." 
 
 Hope Leslie's tears fell like raindrops on her 
 friend's letter; and when she had finished it, she 
 turned and clasped her arms around her guardian's 
 neck, and hid her face on his bosom. Feelings for 
 which words are too poor an expression, kept all 
 parties for some time silent. To the elder Fletcher 
 it was a moment of happiness that requited years of 
 suffering. He gave Hope's hand to Everell : 
 " Sainted mothers !" he said, raising his full eyes to
 
 256 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 Heaven, ''look down on your children, and bless 
 them !" And, truly, celestial spirits might look with 
 complacency, from their bright spheres, on the pure 
 and perfect love that united these youthful beings. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher withdrew ; and we, following his ex- 
 ample, must permit the curtain to fall on this scene, 
 as we hold it a profane intrusion for any ear to 
 listen to the first confessions of reciprocated, happy 
 love. 
 
 Events have already meted " fit retribution" to 
 most of the parties who have figured in our long 
 story. A few particulars remain. 
 
 There was one man of Chaddock's crew left alive 
 to tell the tale ; the same whose footsteps, it may be 
 recollected, Sir Philip heard, and on whom he had 
 vainly called for assistance. This man was linger- 
 ing to observe the principal actors in the tragedy 
 when the explosion took place, and, with the rest, 
 was blown into the air ; but he escaped with his 
 life, gained the boat, and came, the next day, safely 
 to the shore, where he related all he knew, to the 
 great relief of the curiosity of the good people of 
 Boston. 
 
 Strict search was, by the governor's order, made 
 for the bodies of the unhappy WTetches who had been 
 so suddenly sent to their doom. 
 
 Jennet's was one of the first found : the handker- 
 chief that had been bound over her head still re- 
 mained, the knot which defied Sir Philip's skill hav- 
 ing also resisted the lashing of the waves. When
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 257 
 
 this screen was removed and the body identified, the 
 mystery of her disappearance was at once explained. 
 " Death wipes out old scores ;" and even Jennet, 
 deadf was wrapped in the mantle of charity ; but all 
 who had known her living, mentally confessed that 
 Death could not have been more lenient in select- 
 ing a substitute for the precious life he had men- 
 aced. 
 
 Poor Rosa's remains were not 
 
 " Left to float upon their wat'ry bier 
 Unwept, and welter to the parching wind." 
 
 Her youth, her wrongs and sufferings, combined with 
 the pleadings of Hope Leslie, obtained for her the 
 rites of a separate and solemn burial. Tears of hu- 
 mility and pity were shed over her grave — a fit trib- 
 ute from virtuous and tender woman to a fallen, un- 
 happy sister. 
 
 All the bodies of the sufferers were finally recover- 
 ed except that of Sir Phihp Gardiner ; and the in- 
 ference of our pious forefathers, that Satan had 
 seized upon that as his lawful spoil, may not be 
 deemed, by their skeptical descendants, very unnat- 
 ural. 
 
 We leave it to that large and most indulgent class 
 of our readers, the misses in their teens, to adjust, ac- 
 cording to their own fancy, the ceremonial of our 
 heroine's wedding, which took place in due time, to 
 the joy of her immediate friends, and the entire ap- 
 probation of all the inhabitants of Boston, who, in 
 those early times, manifested a friendly interest in 
 Y 2
 
 258 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 individual concerns, which is said to characterize 
 them to the present day. 
 
 The elder Fletcher remained with his children, 
 and permitted himself to enjoy to the full the happi- 
 ness which it was plain Providence had prepared 
 for him. The close of his life was as the clear shi- 
 ning forth of the sun after a stormy and troubled 
 day. 
 
 Dame Grafton evinced some mortification at the 
 discovery of the fallibiUty of her judgment in relation 
 to Sir Philip Gardiner ; but she soon dubbed hini Sir 
 Janus — a name that implied he had two faces ; and 
 her sagacity was not at fault if she judged by the one 
 presented to her. Her trifling vexation was soon 
 forgotten in her participation in her niece's felicity, 
 and in her busy preparations for the wedding ; and, 
 after that event, she was made so happy by the du- 
 tiful care of Hope and Everell, that she ceased to re- 
 gret Old England, till, falling into her dotage, her 
 entreaties, combining wdth some other motives, in- 
 duced them to visit their mother- country, where the 
 old lady died, and was buried in the tomb of the 
 Leslies, the church burial-service being performed by 
 the Bishop of London. Her unconsciousness of this 
 poetic justice must be regretted by all who respect 
 innocent prejudices. 
 
 We hope that class of readers above alluded to 
 will not be shocked at our heroine's installing Mas- 
 ter Cradock as a life-member of her domestic estab- 
 lishment. We are sure their kind hearts would rec- 
 oncile them to this measure if they could know with
 
 HOPE LESLIE. 259 
 
 what fidelity, and sweetness, and joy to the good 
 man she performed the promise she gave in Mag- 
 awisca's prison, " that she would be a child to his 
 old age." If they are still discontented with the ar- 
 rangement, let them perform an action of equal kind- 
 ness, and they will learn, from experience, that our 
 heroine had her reward. 
 
 Digby never ceased, after the event had verified 
 them, to pride himself on his own presentiments and 
 his wife's dreams. A friendship between him and 
 Everell and Hope subsisted through his life, and de- 
 scended, a precious legacy, through many genera- 
 tions of their descendants, fortified by favours on the 
 one part, and gratitude on the other, and reciprocal 
 affection. 
 
 Barnaby Tuttle, and his timely compliance with 
 her wishes, were not forgotten by our heroine. Per- 
 suaded by her advice, and enabled by an annual sti- 
 pend from her to do so, he retired from his solitary 
 post of jailer, and passed his old age comfortably 
 with his daughter Ruth, versifying psalms, and play- 
 ing with the little Tuttles. 
 
 After the passage of two or three years, Miss 
 Dow^ning returned to New-England, and renew^ed 
 her intercourse with Everell and Hope, without any 
 other emotions on either side than those which be- 
 long to v/arm and tender friendship. Her personal 
 loveliness. Christian graces, and the high rank she 
 held in the colony, rendered her an object of very 
 general attraction. 
 
 Her hand was often and eagerly sought, but she
 
 260 HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 appears never to have felt a second engrossing at- 
 tachment. The current of her purposes and affec- 
 tions had set another way. She illustrated a truth, 
 which, if more generally received by her sex, might 
 save a vast deal of misery :' that marriage is not es- 
 sential to the contentment, the dignity, or the happi- 
 ness of woman. ^ Indeed, those who saw on how 
 wide a sphere her kindness shone, how many were 
 made better and happier by her disinterested devo- 
 tion, might have rejoiced that she did not 
 
 " Give to a party what was meant for mankind."
 
 NOTES. 
 
 (1.) " She understands and speaks English perfectly well." 
 —Page 24, 25, vol. i. 
 
 We would take the liberty to refer those who may think we 
 have here violated probability, to Winthrop, who speaks of a 
 Pequod maiden who attended Miantunnomoh as interpreter, 
 and " spoke English perfectly." 
 
 (2.) " Monoca, the mother of these children, was noted for 
 the singular dignity and modesty of her demeanour." — Page 25, 
 vol. i. 
 
 For those who disbelieve the existence in savage life of the 
 virtues which we have ascribed to this Indian woman, we quote 
 cm- authority : 
 
 " Among the Pequod captives were the wife and children of 
 Mononotto. She was particularly noticed by the English for 
 her great modesty, humanity, and good sense. She made it as 
 her only request that she might not be injured either as to her 
 offspring or personal honour. As a requital for her kindness to 
 the captivated maids, her life and the lives of her children w^ere 
 not only spared, but they were particularly recommended to 
 the care of Governor Winthrop. He gave charge for their pro- 
 tection and kind treatment." — Trumbull's Hist, of Connecticut. 
 See also Hubbard's Indian Wars, p. 47. 
 
 (3.) " They told him they would spare his life if he would 
 guide them to our strongholds ; he refused." — Page 71, vol. i. 
 
 " But, finding that the sachems, whom they had spared, 
 would give them no information, they beheaded them on their 
 march, at a place called Mekunkatuck, since Guilford." — Ibid. 
 
 (4.) " You Enghsh tell us, Everell, that the book of your 
 law is better than that written on our hearts," &c. — Pages 71, 
 72, vol. i. 
 
 The language of the Indians, as reported by Heckewelder,
 
 262 NOTES. 
 
 verifies so strongly the sentiment in our text, and is so power- 
 ful an admonition to Christians, that we here quote it for those 
 who may not have met with the interesting work of this excel- 
 lent Moravian missionary. " And yet," say those injured peo- 
 ple, "these white men would always be telling us of their great 
 Book which God had given to them. They would persuade 
 us that every man was good who believed in what the book 
 said, and every man was bad who did not beheve in it. They 
 told us a great many things which they said were written in 
 the good Book, and wanted us to believe it all. We would 
 probably have done so if we had seen them practise what they 
 pretended to believe, and act according to the good words which 
 they told us. But no ! while they held their big book in one 
 hand, in the other they had murderous weapons, guns and 
 swords, wherewith to kill us poor Indians. Ah ! and they did 
 so too !" 
 
 (5.) " The Indians remained standing," &c. — Page 214, 
 vol. i. 
 
 The characteristic conduct of the Narragansett chief is trans- 
 ferred to our pages from Winthrop, who thus describes it : 
 " When we should go to dinner, there was a table provided for 
 the Indians to dine by themselves, and Miantunnomoh was left 
 to sit with them. This he was discontented at, and would eat 
 nothing till the governor sent him meat from his table. So at 
 night, and all the time he stayed, he sat at the lower end of the 
 magistrate's table." 
 
 (6.) " She entered the enclosure, now the churchyard of the 
 stone chapel." — Page 249, vol. i. 
 
 This was the first burial-place in Boston ; and as early as the 
 year 1630, consecrated by the interment of Mr. Johnson, who 
 died of grief for the loss of his wife, the Lady Arbella, " the 
 pride of the colony.''^ " He was," says Winthrop, " a holy man 
 and wise, and died in sweet peace." And another contempo- 
 rary historian says, that he was so beloved that many persons 
 requested their bodies might be interred near his. 
 
 (7.) " That gentleman, sir, is the apostle of New-England." 
 — Page 156, vol. ii. 
 
 We believe we have anticipated, by three or four years, this
 
 NOTES. 263 
 
 title, so well earned and generally bestowed. We cannot pass 
 the hallowed name of Ehot without pausing earnestly to be- 
 seech our youthful readers to study his history, in which they 
 will find exemplified, from youth to extreme old age, the di- 
 vine precepts of his Master. He was the first Protestant mis- 
 sionary to the Indians ; for nearly half a century their instruct- 
 er, friend, and father ; and when, during the war with the ter- 
 rific Philip of Mount Hope, fear had turned every hand and 
 heart against them, and their utter extinction was regarded by 
 most as necessary to the salvation of the English colonies, Eliot 
 was still their indefatigable and fearless advocate. The Chris- 
 tian philanthropist will delight to follow this good man through 
 his diocess of Indian churches ; to see him surrounded by his 
 simple catechumens, dealing out the bread of hfe to them ; to 
 go with him to his "prophet's chamber" at Natick — that apart- 
 ment prepared by the love of his Indian disciples, and conse- 
 crated by his prayers ; and, finally, to stand by his bedside 
 when, in extreme old age, like his prototype " the beloved 
 apostle," all other affections had melted into a flame of love. 
 " Alas !" he said, " I have lost everything. My understanding 
 leaves me. My memory — my utterance fails me ; but I thank 
 God my charity holds out still. I find that grows rather than 
 fai%' 
 
 His name has been appropriately given to a flourishing mis- 
 sionary station, w^here the principle on which he at all times 
 insisted is acted upon, viz., "that the Indians must be civil- 
 ized, as well as, if not in order to, their being Christianized." 
 This principle has no opposers in our age ; and we cannot but 
 hope that the present enlightened labours of the followers of 
 Eliot will be rewarded with such success as shall convert the 
 faint-hearted, the cold, and the skeptical into ardent promoters 
 of missions to the Indian race. 
 
 (8.) " I know," she said, *' that it contains thy rule." — Page 
 165, vol. ii. 
 
 This reply of Magawisca we have somewhere seen given as 
 the genuine answer of an Indian to the solicitation of a mis- 
 sionary, but are not able now to refer to our authority.
 
 264 NOTES. 
 
 (9.) "Moscutusett." 
 
 Among the various conjectures respecting the etymology of 
 the word Massachusetts, the following, communicated by Neal, 
 appears the most satisfactory : " The sachem who governed 
 this part of the country had his seat on a hill, about two leagues 
 to the southward of Boston. It lies in the shape of an Indian 
 arrow-head, which is called, in their language, 'Mos' or *Mons.' 
 A hill, in their language, is ' Wetusett,' pronounced Wechusett ; 
 hence the great sachem's seat was called * Moscutusett,' from 
 whence, with a small variation, the province received the name 
 of Massachusetts." — Hist, of Boston. 
 
 This hill is in the town of Quincy, and now known by the 
 name of " Sachem's Hill." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 4 6 98 18
 
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