With this brief explanation, we must return to our narrative.
Let the American reader imagine one of our mildest October mornings, when the sun seems a ball of silvery fire, and the elasticity of the air is felt while it is inhaled, imparting vigor and life to the whole system; the weather, neither too warm nor too cold, but of that happy temperature which stirs the blood, without bringing the lassitude of spring.
It was on such a morning, about the middle of the month, that Oliver entered the hall where Elizabeth was issuing her usual orders for the day, and requesting her to join him in a short excursion to the lakeside.
The tender melancholy in the manner of her husband caught the attention of Elizabeth, who instantly abandoned her concerns, threw a light shawl across her shoulders, and, concealing her raven hair under a gypsy hat, and took his arm, and submitted herself, without a question, to his guidance.
They crossed the bridge, and had turned from the highway, along the margin of the lake, before a word was exchanged.
Elizabeth well knew, by the direction, the object of the walk, and respected the feelings of her companion too much to indulge in untimely conversation.
But when they gained the open fields, and her eye roamed over the placid lake, covered with wild fowl already journeying from the great northern waters to seek a warmer sun, but lingering to play in the limpid sheet of the Otsego, and to the sides of the mountain, which were gay with the thousand dyes of autumn, as if to grace their bridal, the swelling heart of the young wife burst out in speech.
“This is not a time for silence, Oliver!” she said, clinging more fondly to his arm; “everything in Nature seems to speak the praises of the Creator; why should we, who have so much to be grateful for, be silent?”
“Speak on!” said her husband, smiling; “I love the sounds of your voice.
You must anticipate our errand hither: I have told you my plans: how do you like them?”
“I must first see them,” returned his wife.
“But I have had my plans, too; it is time I should begin to divulge them.”
“You!
It is something for the comfort of my old friend, Natty, I know.”
“Certainly of Natty; but we have other friends besides the Leather-Stocking to serve.
Do you forget Louisa and her father?”
“No, surely; have I not given one of the best farms in the county to the good divine?
As for Louisa, I should wish you to keep her always near us.”
“You do!” said Elizabeth, slightly compressing her lips; “but poor Louisa may have other views for herself; she may wish to follow my example, and marry.”
“I don’t think it,” said Effingham, musing a moment, “really don’t know any one hereabouts good enough for her.”
“Perhaps not her; but there are other places besides Templeton, and other churches besides ‘New St. Paul’s.’”
“Churches, Elizabeth! you would not wish to lose Mr. Grant, surely!
Though simple, he is an excellent man I shall never find another who has half the veneration for my orthodoxy.
You would humble me from a saint to a very common sinner.”
“It must be done, sir,” returned the lady, with a half-concealed smile, “though it degrades you from an angel to a man.”
“But you forget the farm?”
“He can lease it, as others do.
Besides, would you have a clergyman toil in the fields?”
“Where can he go?
You forget Louisa.”
“No, I do not forget Louisa,” said Elizabeth, again compressing her beautiful lips.
“You know, Effingham, that my father has told you that I ruled him, and that I should rule you.
I am now about to exert my power.”
“Anything, anything, dear Elizabeth, but not at the expense of us all: not at the expense of your friend.”
“How do you know, sir, that it will be so much at the expense of my friend?” said the lady, fixing her eyes with a searching look on his countenance, where they met only the unsuspecting expression of manly regret.
“How do I know it?
Why, it is natural that she should regret us.”
“It is our duty to struggle with our natural feelings,” returned the lady; “and there is but little cause to fear that such a spirit as Louisa’s will not effect it.”
“But what is your plan?”
“Listen, and you shall know.
My father has procured a call for Mr. Grant, to one of the towns on the Hudson where he can live more at his ease than in journeying through these woods; where he can spend the evening of his life in comfort and quiet; and where his daughter may meet with such society, and form such a connection, as may be proper for one of her years and character.”
“Bess! you amaze me!
I did not think you had been such a manager!”
“Oh! I manage more deeply than you imagine, sir,” said the wife, archly smiling again; “but it is thy will and it is your duty to submit—for a time at least.”
Effingham laughed; but, as they approached the end of their walk, the subject was changed by common consent.
The place at which they arrived was the little spot of level ground where the cabin of the Leather-Stocking had so long stood.
Elizabeth found it entirely cleared of rubbish, and beautifully laid down in turf, by the removal of sods, which, in common with the surrounding country, had grown gay, under the influence of profuse showers, as if a second spring had passed over the land.
This little place was surrounded by a circle of mason-work, and they entered by a small gate, near which, to the surprise of both, the rifle of Natty was leaning against the wall.
Hector and the slut reposed on the grass by its side, as if conscious that, however altered, they were lying on the ground and were surrounded by objects with which they were familiar.
The hunter himself was stretched on the earth, before a head-stone of white marble, pushing aside with his fingers the long grass that had already sprung up from the luxuriant soil around its base, apparently to lay bare the inscription.