Sleep on what you've seen and felt; in the morning things that now look gloomy, may look more che'rful.
Above all, never do anything in bitterness, or because you feel as if you'd like to take revenge on yourself for other people's backslidings.
All that has been said or done atween us, this night, is your secret, and shall never be talked of by me, even with the Sarpent, and you may be sartain if he can't get it out of me no man can.
If your parents have been faulty, let the darter be less so; remember that you're young, and the youthful may always hope for better times; that you're more quick-witted than usual, and such gin'rally get the better of difficulties, and that, as for beauty, you're oncommon, which is an advantage with all. It is time to get a little rest, for to-morrow is like to prove a trying day to some of us."
Deerslayer arose as he spoke, and Judith had no choice but to comply.
The chest was closed and secured, and they parted in silence, she to take her place by the side of Hist and Hetty, and he to seek a blanket on the floor of the cabin he was in.
It was not five minutes ere the young man was in a deep sleep, but the girl continued awake for a long time.
She scarce knew whether to lament, or to rejoice, at having failed in making herself understood.
On the one hand were her womanly sensibilities spared; on the other was the disappointment of defeated, or at least of delayed expectations, and the uncertainty of a future that looked so dark.
Then came the new resolution, and the bold project for the morrow, and when drowsiness finally shut her eyes, they closed on a scene of success and happiness, that was pictured by the fancy, under the influence of a sanguine temperament, and a happy invention.
Chapter XXV
"But, mother, now a shade has past, Athwart my brightest visions here, A cloud of darkest gloom has wrapt, The remnant of my brief career!
No song, no echo can I win, The sparkling fount has died within." Margaret Davidson, "To my Mother," 11. 7-12.
Hist and Hetty arose with the return of light, leaving Judith still buried in sleep.
It took but a minute for the first to complete her toilet.
Her long coal-black hair was soon adjusted in a simple knot, the calico dress belted tight to her slender waist, and her little feet concealed in their gaudily ornamented moccasins. When attired, she left her companion employed in household affairs, and went herself on the platform to breathe the pure air of the morning.
Here she found Chingachgook studying the shores of the lake, the mountains and the heavens, with the sagacity of a man of the woods, and the gravity of an Indian.
The meeting between the two lovers was simple, but affectionate.
The chief showed a manly kindness, equally removed from boyish weakness and haste, while the girl betrayed, in her smile and half averted looks, the bashful tenderness of her sex.
Neither spoke, unless it were with the eyes, though each understood the other as fully as if a vocabulary of words and protestations had been poured out.
Hist seldom appeared to more advantage than at that moment, for just from her rest and ablutions, there was a freshness about her youthful form and face that the toils of the wood do not always permit to be exhibited, by even the juvenile and pretty.
Then Judith had not only imparted some of her own skill in the toilet, during their short intercourse, but she had actually bestowed a few well selected ornaments from her own stores, that contributed not a little to set off the natural graces of the Indian maid.
All this the lover saw and felt, and for a moment his countenance was illuminated with a look of pleasure, but it soon grew grave again, and became saddened and anxious.
The stools used the previous night were still standing on the platform; placing two against the walls of the hut, he seated himself on one, making a gesture to his companion to take the other.
This done, he continued thoughtful and silent for quite a minute, maintaining the reflecting dignity of one born to take his seat at the council-fire, while Hist was furtively watching the expression of his face, patient and submissive, as became a woman of her people.
Then the young warrior stretched his arm before him, as if to point out the glories of the scene at that witching hour, when the whole panorama, as usual, was adorned by the mellow distinctness of early morning, sweeping with his hand slowly over lake, hills and heavens.
The girl followed the movement with pleased wonder, smiling as each new beauty met her gaze.
"Hugh!" exclaimed the chief, in admiration of a scene so unusual even to him, for this was the first lake he had ever beheld. "This is the country of the Manitou!
It is too good for Mingos, Hist; but the curs of that tribe are howling in packs through the woods.
They think that the Delawares are asleep, over the mountains."
"All but one of them is, Chingachgook.
There is one here; and he is of the blood of Uncas!"
"What is one warrior against a tribe?
The path to our villages is very long and crooked, and we shall travel it under a cloudy sky.
I am afraid, too, Honeysuckle of the Hills, that we shall travel it alone!"
Hist understood the allusion, and it made her sad; though it sounded sweet to her ears to be compared, by the warrior she so loved, to the most fragrant and the pleasantest of all the wild flowers of her native woods.
Still she continued silent, as became her when the allusion was to a grave interest that men could best control, though it exceeded the power of education to conceal the smile that gratified feeling brought to her pretty mouth.
"When the sun is thus," continued the Delaware, pointing to the zenith, by simply casting upward a hand and finger, by a play of the wrist, "the great hunter of our tribe will go back to the Hurons to be treated like a bear, that they roast and skin even on full stomachs."
"The Great Spirit may soften their hearts, and not suffer them to be so bloody minded.
I have lived among the Hurons, and know them.
They have hearts, and will not forget their own children, should they fall into the hands of the Delawares."
"A wolf is forever howling; a hog will always eat.
They have lost warriors; even their women will call out for vengeance.
The pale-face has the eyes of an eagle, and can see into a Mingo's heart; he looks for no mercy.
There is a cloud over his spirit, though it is not before his face."
A long, thoughtful pause succeeded, during which Hist stealthily took the hand of the chief, as if seeking his support, though she scarce ventured to raise her eyes to a countenance that was now literally becoming terrible, under the conflicting passions and stern resolution that were struggling in the breast of its owner.
"What will the Son of Uncas do?" the girl at length timidly asked.
"He is a chief, and is already celebrated in council, though so young; what does his heart tell him is wisest; does the head, too, speak the same words as the heart?"
"What does Wah-ta-Wah say, at a moment when my dearest friend is in such danger.
The smallest birds sing the sweetest; it is always pleasant to hearken to their songs.