The Pilgrims of New England, Mrs. J. B. Webb [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

come Singing of boyhood back!--the voices of my home!' HEMANS.

One Sabbath evening, a few months after the events related in the last chapter, and when the short second Indian summer, that so often returns late in the month of September, was at its height, the inhabitants of New Plymouth were assembled at their meeting-house on 'the Burying Hill,' and engaged at their usual devotions. None were left in their dwellings except those whom age or sickness prevented from joining the rest of the congregation, or those who were necessarily detained by the care of young children.

The habitation of Rodolph Maitland was, therefore, deserted by all but Janet, who would gladly have gone that evening to listen to the husband of her young mistress; for Roger Williams was to lead the prayers of the congregation, and to deliver to them the customary address. But Edith's little girl demanded her care; and old Janet took too much pride and pleasure in the interesting child to repine at having the charge of her, even though it prevented her from attending at the meeting-house on the first occasion of Roger's officiating there since his marriage.

Little Edith was just beginning to walk alone, and it was her delight to play in the bright sunny garden, and pluck the gay flowers that still bloomed there in profusion. She was thus engaged, and murmuring a sweet but inarticulate song that her mother had attempted to teach her, when Janet, apprehending no danger, returned for a moment to the house, to perform some domestic duty.

Just then a stranger, followed by a large dog, entered the garden by the wicket gate that led towards the forest, and stood silently gazing around him, without at first observing the happy and occupied child. He was tall and of a commanding appearance; and his costume, which was richly ornamented in the Indian fashion, bespoke him to be a native of high rank. But had any one closely examined his countenance, they would have discovered beneath those long dark lashes, and clearly marked eyebrows, the deep blue eye of the Saxon race, which was also indicated by the rich brown hair, that, now unconcealed, waved across his manly forehead. A keen eye would also have detected on the features of that seeming Indian Sachem an expression of deep thought and strong emotion, that told of old remembrances not yet obliterated, and of feelings that belonged to home and kindred.

Yes! Henrich was, indeed, absorbed in those recollections that were revived in his breast by the sight of objects once so familiar, but which many years had elapsed since last he had looked on. Much was changed: but much was still the same. The rude hut commodious log-house that once stood on that site was now replaced by a substantial and picturesque dwelling in the Elizabethan style of architecture, whose deep bay windows were hung with the sweet single roses that were natives of the woods, and other flowering plants; while wreaths of the well-known Virginian creeper, now glowing in its scarlet hue of autumn, climbed to the summit of the carved gables and pinnacles that ornamented the building, and hung from thence in rich festoons.

On the front of this dwelling the evening sun fell brightly, and its slanting beams likewise partially illuminated the garden with long streaks of light, while other parts were thrown into strong shadow by the trees and shrubs that grew among the flower-beds. One of these--a noble tulip-tree--rose in the centre of the enclosure and stretched its giant arms wide on every side. On this tree the eyes of the wanderer rested long; and then he approached it, and stood looking wistfully towards a bower that was situated near the old tree, and over which the creepers fell in wild luxuriance.

Was it a tear that glittered in that warlike stranger's eye, as a ray from the western sun fell on his face through the thick overhanging foliage? And did those manly limbs tremble as he clasped his hands over his face, and sank on the rustic seat beneath the tulip-tree?

'I cannot enter the house!' he exclaimed, in a low voice. 'I cannot seek those loved ones there where once we dwelt in happiness together; and where, perhaps, none now remain to welcome the wanderer home! O, that some one would appear who might tell me of their fate!'

Henrich spoke to himself in his native tongue. He could not speak a strange language in that old familiar spot; and his voice attracted the notice of the little girl, who was now slowly moving towards him, her hands filled with the spoils of the flower-beds. She stopped, and gazed at the stranger, and then uttered a faint cry of fear that at once roused Henrich from his reverie. His eyes fell on the lovely child, and instantly his memory recalled the features and expression of his brother Ludovico, to whom the little Edith bore a strong resemblance.

With an irresistible impulse he sprang forward, and caught the little girl in his arms, and sought, by caresses, to soothe her fears, and hush her cries of terror. But those cries had caught the watchful ear of Janet; and, with all the speed that she could use, she came running from the house, merely anticipating that her charge had fallen down, or was alarmed at finding herself alone.

What was, then, her terror and amazement at seeing her in the arms of an Indian! One instant she stood rivetted to the spot, not knowing how to act. The next she turned, and again hurried in to the house, from whence she escaped by a back door, and sped breathlessly towards 'the Burying Hill.' She knew that the service was over--for the last strains of the parting hymn had been borne down by the evening breeze as she left the house--and therefore she would find help and succor from the returning congregation. That deep, melodious sound had been heard by Henrich also; and it had struck a chord in his heart that vibrated almost to agony. The stillness and abstraction of his look, as he listened to the dying cadence, silenced the cries of the little child. She gazed into his upturned eyes; and, possibly, she felt that those eyes had an expression that was neither strange nor terrible--for now she suffered the stranger to seat himself again on the bench beneath the tulip tree, and place her gently on his knee.

Such was the picture that met the eyes of Edith, and her husband, and parents, as they rushed into the garden, followed by the trembling and exhausted Janet.

'My child! my Edith!' shrieked the young mother and sprang towards the tree. That name told a long history to the wanderer which his heart had already guessed. The Indian warrior rose, but he did not fly. No! he only met the terrified mother; and as he placed her child in her trembling arms, he folded them both in his own.

In amazement and indignation at this rude action, Roger now caught his arm, and in the Indian tongue, inquired hastily--

'Who are you? and what can cause this freedom?'

I am Henrich Maitland!' exclaimed the stranger; 'and the Lord has brought me back to my home once more.'

Oh, the music--the thrilling, startling music--of those words to the ears and hearts of those who bad so long believed him dead! The surprise and joy were too intense for Helen, and she sank fainting into the arms of her long-lost son: while Rodolph grasped his hand, and exclaimed with deep emotion--

'Now, God be praised! my brave, my blessed son! Surely His mercies are infinite, and His ways past finding out! Now I know why my heart yearned so strangely towards the Indian Chief who saved my life in the Fort of Mystic; and why his voice had such a thrilling and familiar tone, that spoke of home, and bygone years. Look on me, my Henrich, and say, do you not recognise the English soldier whom your generous interference preserved from a dreadful death?'

The change in Rodolph's dress, and his own overpowering emotions, had hitherto prevented Henrich from discovering that, in the noble-looking man whom he was proud to call his father, he also beheld that gallant British officer whose appearance had so powerfully attracted him in the conflict of Fort Mystic. But when he looked into that fine countenance, he well remembered every feature; and he wondered why he, had not known him, even when they met so unexpectedly in the excitement of the battle.

That was a happy hour; and, in the joy of meeting so many that he loved, Henrich for awhile forgot that any one was missing. But soon be looked around, as if seeking some familiar object, which did not meet his eye. He feared to ask for Ludovico: but his father saw the inquiring look, and guessed its import.

'He is gone!' he said, gently. 'Your brother did not remain with us long after you had left us; and his young spirit is now where we believed that yours had long been dwelling in peace. He would have rejoiced to see this day, dear Henrich; for he, as well as Edith, mourned your loss sincerely. But he is happy now, and we will not regret him. The Lord has restored to us one of our sons in a manner so strange, and under such extraordinary circumstances, that we can hardly realise the blessing. Tell us, Henrich, how this has been brought about.'

The violent agitation occasioned by such a meeting had now somewhat subsided; and the wanderer could calmly relate the story of his adventures, while his mother and sister sat on each side of him, gazing fondly at his much-changed, but still familiar countenance; and the scarcely less interested Janet seated herself on the turf, with little Edith on her knees. Rodolph and Roger Williams also reclined on the ground, and all were impatient for the narrative.

'Our group is not complete,' said Henrich. 'Come hither, Rodolph!' And then, addressing his dog in the Indian language, he made him lie down at his feet.

'Then my ears did not deceive me?' exclaimed Maitland. 'When you left me, Henrich, in the midst of that fearful fray, I thought I heard you pronounce my name; and the sound startled me strangely. Have you, then, called your unconscious companion by your father's name; and in all your wanderings, and your trials, and temptations, has that name been dear to you?'

'Heaven only knows _how_ dear!' replied the Sachem. 'The remembrance of my parents, and all they taught me in my childhood, has been not only my joy and consolation, but my safeguard also. You will find me very unlearned and ignorant in all worldly knowledge, for I have had no means of keeping up the little I had acquired. But, God be praised! I have been kept from forgetting Him, and the Saviour in whom you taught me to put my trust. Nor have I been quite alone in my faith. One there is of whom I shall have much to tell you in the course of my history, who has been, and is, my spiritual companion and support. I have had many blessings!'

'How truly is it declared, "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord"!' exclaimed Helen, as she raised her eyes in grateful gratitude to Heaven. Now she and Rodolph felt that they had, _indeed,_ recovered their lost son--not for time alone, but for eternity.

Henrich's long and adventurous story was told: and so many were the questions and the comments that it