The accidental injury you have received from Judge Temple has heightened the sense of your hereditary wrongs.
But remember that the one was unintentional, and that the other is the effect of political changes, which have, in their course, greatly lowered the pride of kings, and swept mighty nations from the face of the earth.
Where now are the Philistines, who so often held the children of Israel in bondage? or that city of Babylon, which rioted in luxury and vice, and who styled herself the Queen of Nations in the drunkenness of her pride?
Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine Power—‘that it may please thee to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts.
The sin of the wrongs which have been done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple only in common with a whole people, and your arm will speedily be restored to its strength.”
“This arm!” repeated the youth, pacing the floor in violent agitation.
“Think you, sir, that I believe the man a murderer?
Oh, no! he is too wily, too cowardly, for such a crime.
But let him and his daughter riot in their wealth—a day of retribution will come.
No, no, no,” he continued, as he trod the floor more calmly—“it is for Mohegan to suspect him of an intent to injure me; but the trifle is not worth a second thought.”
He seated himself, and hid his face between his hands, as they rested on his knees.
“It is the hereditary violence of a native’s passion, my child,” said Mr. Grant in a low tone to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging in terror to his arm.
“He is mixed with the blood of the Indians, you have heard; and neither the refinements of education nor the advantages of our excellent liturgy have been able entirely to eradicate the evil.
But care and time will do much for him yet.”
Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet what he uttered was heard by the youth, who raised his head, with a smile of indefinite expression, and spoke more calmly:
“Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the wildness of my manner or that of my dress.
I have been carried away by passions that I should struggle to repress.
I must attribute it, with your father, to the blood in my veins, although I would not impeach my lineage willingly; for it is all that is left me to boast of.
Yes! I am proud of my descent from a Delaware chief, who was a warrior that ennobled human nature.
Old Mohegan was his friend, and will vouch for his virtues.”
Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, finding the young man more calm, and the aged chief attentive, he entered into a full and theological discussion of the duty of forgiveness.
The conversation lasted for more than an hour, when the visitors arose, and, after exchanging good wishes with their entertainers, they departed.
At the door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct route to the village, while the youth moved toward the lake.
The divine stood at the entrance of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged chief as it glided, at an astonishing gait for his years, along the deep path; his black, straight hair just visible over the bundle formed by his blanket, which was sometimes blended with the snow, under the silvery light of the moon.
From the rear of the house was a window that overlooked the lake; and here Louisa was found by her father, when he entered, gazing intently on some object in the direction of the eastern mountain.
He approached the spot, and saw the figure of the young hunter, at the distance of half a mile, walking with prodigious steps across the wide fields of frozen snow that covered the ice, toward the point where he knew the hut inhabited by the Leather-Stocking was situated on the margin of the lake, under a rock that was crowned by pines and hemlocks.
At the next instant, the wild looking form entered the shadow cast from the over-hanging trees, and was lost to view.
“It is marvellous how long the propensities of the savage continue in that remarkable race,” said the good divine; “but if he perseveres as he has commenced, his triumph shall yet be complete.
Put me in mind, Louisa, to lend him the homily ‘against peril of idolatry,’ at his next visit.”
“Surety, father, you do not think him in danger of relapsing into the worship of his ancestors?”
“No, my child,” returned the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately on her flaxen locks, and smiling; “his white blood would prevent it; but there is such a thing as the idolatry of our passions.”
CHAPTER XIII.
“And I’ll drink out of the quart pot—
Here’s a health to the barley mow.
“—Drinking Song.
On one of the corners, where the two principal streets of Templeton intersected each other, stood, as we have already mentioned, the inn called the
“Bold Dragoon”.
In the original plan it was ordained that the village should stretch along the little stream that rushed down the valley; and the street which led from the lake to the academy was intended to be its western boundary.
But convenience frequently frustrates the best-regulated plans.
The house of Mr., or as, in consequence of commanding the militia of that vicinity, he was called, Captain Hollister, had, at an early day, been erected directly facing the main street, and ostensibly interposed a barrier to its further progress.
Horsemen, and subsequently teamsters, however, availed themselves of an opening, at the end of the building, to shorten their passage westward, until in time the regular highway was laid out along this course, and houses were gradually built on either side, so as effectually to prevent any subsequent correction of the evil.
Two material consequences followed this change in the regular plans of Marmaduke.
The main street, after running about half its length, was suddenly reduced for precisely that difference in its width; and
“Bold Dragoon” became, next to the mansion-house, by far the most conspicuous edifice in the place.
This conspicuousness, aided by the characters of the host and hostess, gave the tavern an advantage over all its future competitors that no circumstances could conquer.
An effort was, however, made to do so; and at the corner diagonally opposite, stood a new building that was in tended, by its occupants, to look down all opposition.
It was a house of wood, ornamented in the prevailing style of architecture, and about the roof and balustrades was one of the three imitators of the mansion-house.
The upper windows were filled with rough boards secured by nails, to keep out the cold air—for the edifice was far from finished, although glass was to be seen in the lower apartments, and the light of the powerful fires within de noted that it was already inhabited.
The exterior was painted white on the front and on the end which was exposed to the street; but in the rear, and on the side which was intended to join the neighboring house, it was coarsely smeared with Spanish brown.
Before the door stood two lofty posts, connected at the top by a beam, from which was suspended an enormous sign, ornamented around its edges with certain curious carvings in pine boards, and on its faces loaded with Masonic emblems.