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delicate breach'• aca clustering Aeavds
above ber. Avoline felt like one to whom
new mM wad been suddenlygivra,
tod time end. diwanea'were forgot!aw, A
quick swp rdtfeed tas, end Herbert Allea
was betide her.
Avoline, dearett Avoline, why. ere
you here T” Hit voice was agitated, and
the rifle he bore, oow reminded ber of the
danger the had to thoughtlessly incut red.
“ Come, let us hasten back—this it D»
place tor lonely remMas,’’ and draw
ing het arm under hit he suddenly
broke the silence of tlieir path, “ Great
God, f was not mistaken! —Avoline,** he
said, exerting over himself a strong effort
— M do not be alarmed; our men are prob
ably engaged in a slight fray, but I Can
bear you off to a place of, safety till it is
past,'’ and breaking suddenly from their
course, be bare her through the tangled
underbrush.till they hsd attained the bank
some -distance above the place of conflict.
“ Hide yourself in this thicket; I must
join our men, they will return soon, at all
events stay till you receive -some signal.
Now God have mercy!” he respired as
having flung himself upon Ilia face, as he
attained the place of altife, he obtained a
view of the combatants. Major Wor
thington had that moment fallen, and a
dark figure,|whosn scalping knifo flashed
in the simbema ns he circled it round the
head of his victim, was bending over hint.
Tlie whizzing of a ball and the death cry-
now strongly grappled. Tito
ntUibkiug Uatu.vl a».ijur »v uiituugiwu, you
buvo wrenched from men secret,that I though'
was wu3ed—ah1 forever, lit the deepest faslnet •
tea of my heart. But no matter, ymt only,., have
witnessed my weakness; let it notv be forgotten.
TNkre are other and stronger fountains tbatmust
satisfy my spirii.” „,
“Romantic boy," thought the MstdAe* Her
bert rushed from the room, “We oUl me wheth
er he is'to be sactilired to bis own sensitive del-
.icacy, e^-whether Avoline Brentford 4s not su
perior to the prejudices of her eel."
“ Love him I" exclaimed Avoiiue, as her un
cle proceeded m bis unauthorized negotiation.
* Think of him otherwise than as one whom you
deservedly esteem I"—-and the maiden gasped
for breath as with the presence of some spectral
vision.
« And this it woman’s appreciation of merit'',
thought thedisappointed Worthington; “thisis
the whole amount of that depth and holiness of
Acting with which so many a fine sentence is
jouoded off. A baby devotion to pictures—a
perception only of tbeoye. It is fitting Herbert
should know it—•though ho condemn my viola
tion of hia trust. Passion ia often fed by hd|>ea
-of which we are ourselves unconscious.”
But Herbert heard it all wiihjCalrtueii. “To
the blind," he said with a bitter amilc, “ there ia
no extinction of light—von have only subjected
me to another effort; Avoline must know she has
nothing mure to fear of importunity; Even now,
as I pasted her, ber eve was averted, end her
cheek was blanched. And with a manner of
perfect composure, though-the paleness of death
was upon h'» brow and cheek, he stood n few j of ihn savage were sounds of the same mo-
days alter alone by the fair form of the trembling mem, and as he fell back, Herbert Allen
maiden. “ Nay, do not fly me, Avoline, it is | with a shout of triumph sprang exuhingly
but for a moment; the flrst; the last your genflu - forward. “ Bear him to the bouts men
nature shall be thus shuched. ' Tis but to res- > —Bryan," he continued, to one, whose
tore to your pure spirit that wonted serenity I hunter's garb and unmoved countenance
which n mistaken disclosure has so greatly die-! designated a veteran of-the frontier, “ tho
turbed. I may not now disclaim the sentiments , remainder are our wotk. We must dis-
that have incurred your displeasure, however' pose of these. A fierce struggle followed,
extorted from me in a moment of overwhelming j There were only two of the tuvages, and
eniotioo. I have loved yon, Miss Brentford— ’ with these Herbert and the hunter wero
Autre loved—f must still love; no matter ,frith
what power. It is a sentiment neither presump
tuous in itself, nor humbling to you. Whatever
its strength, if is not of hope—the doom that has
shut for over the possibility of happiness ts sealed
upon my every sense—however maddening its
tnrilliogs, they arc not of inlfishness; and wild*
1y, fearfully aa it may aweep over mv tout, an
allusion to its existence shall never more give
you pain. Let it from thip moment bn forever
effaced from your memory, and the only boon I
crave is, that you would restore mo to that cold
regard which I yet claim us tho reward of Jus-
tioe.” T
Avoline breathod with difficulty. Collected
U were the voice and manner of the speaker,
there was still something in them that evidenced
feelings, mastered only by powerful effort and
the marble fixedness of his brow was contrasted
by a tremulous convulsion of lip, telling of that
sickness of tire heart, with which the spirit sub
mits to the utter conviction of u blighted and
inedcemable destiny. At that moment too, of
deeply awakened pity, the quiet virtues and high
worth ef Herbert Allen roan before Itor, nnd
Avoline would have given the universe to have
gendered him happy. “ Herbert," she replied,
wifli edeepened cheek, “listen to mo a moment,
ned Impute not your norenuitod affliction to a
caltse, that could not operatn upon a just or
a foaling heart. Long before t knew ydu,
while yet a mere child, for I was an unloved and
n teted ewe, and my desolate heart instinciivo-
11111(110 Some object to whom its unvalued
affections might ding, there was one whoso look
Stjd tones wete those of kindness on whom my
whole soul's trust was bestowed. Time has but
strengthened this early attachment, and though
I may noser meet him again, my heart is conso-
crated to.his memory, deceive this disclosure,
not made without pain, ns an acknowledgement
of my sense of your worth. It will enable you,
I trusts, to subdoe stronger sentiments to (hu qui
et tom of friendship, and then indoed I can eas
ily and forevet restore to you that perfect freo-
dom of regard that has hitherto marked our inter-
dotir-*.”
When they again met, it was as those who
W held AO other communion than is embraced
by the common interests of a household. These
interests indoed, were toon more Closely con
densed. A shod time after, and they wero no
longer surrounded by the engrossiug scenes and
mingling events of evory-day life; they moved
PO longer amid the diverging attractions, the
jostling claims and whirling ibtercsts of society
Tho spues which had hitherto formed the whole
world of their thought, were shut from their
view, and they wero moving on a path of bright
Waters tu a world of primeval wildness. All
around them was intense! limitless unimaginable
solitude. It is amid scenes like this that Itearts
become more cbsuly allied. The dust of life'
more common pdths bo longer chokes up the
•venues of .feeling : amid acenos like these test,
the plainest practical virtues assume a cust of
elevation, and comer a new ascendency upon
tho character. Amid the difficulties of an
Untried enterprise, Herbeit Allen stood in a
strengthened and yet more attractive light.
Hia ready self-abandonment—his inexhaustible
expedients—his nuwearted vigilance threw
around hies * kind ef power by which the coun
cils of every emergency Were controlled; while
the coastaot coutacl, in which they ware now
brought, -was hourly developing to Avoline,
those softer ti aits bf mind and feeling which wo*
man ouly can appreciate. Time too had been
gradually softening the aiern traces of sanguiuu-
ry conflict upon,his face aud form. The con
nected mutch » tti.it had given so distorted a cast
to hi* features, itad tecovered their flexibility.
The deep scars ot Ins btow and cheek wete
becoming daily lets apparent,- and the halt iu his
gait, now scarcely pteceptible, was more than
cancelled by a natural ess-, and high freedom of
movement, which continual cxeteise aud perfect! minuting sirifo waged with tlioir race ffiey
health had now restored; while bit countenance were shut from its common immunities
claimed tho agitated Herbert: “ God bp
praised, yep are safe" aed whit the sound
bf Ms impassioned accents the wandering
senses end the strength ed Ibw maiden,
Which had tlike fled before that sight of
horrOrs were at length recalled tow full
'Conviction of life end safety. ,
“And ao, “said Bryan, “ tlie life you
Would have flung awty hut yesterday, sets
mighty comfortably on yon this morning
—Well, well, jist mind it for the future,
and don't over fling army your rifle bee
egoso yen do not see no tracks. But
come, we most he nidtrint*! it is some years
since my lest hunt hereabouts, bht if 1
d on't disremember, I can strike a pretty
s traigbt course to Boonesbocough yet; it
ill take us some days to reach there, but
, , mst bin ear. Herbert tad
®°*‘ P^nfnlnppre-
for his friend, and as he now lear
ned that with the carnaad repose, which
safely would afford, he would probably
recover, he approached his eonch with a
countenance, telling of deeper feelings than
language may utter. Nothing mo,re oc-
cured to mark the remainder of their voy
age. The navigation of our streams was
at that time a monotony of fatigue, but it
was then shared by atrong hearts and her-
voos frames. They reached Barones bor
ough in safety, aud even the pallid features
of the Major lighted up with pleasure.
“ Is not Howard Everill,” he enquired,
aa they bore biih to the fort and laid hut)
Oh a couch that bad been prepared for him
if this young woman’s strength don't fail,I bv the hand of Avoline, “an officer oftliic
why it will only bfc a change in our model gartisonl" Some one brokn through the
of travelling." Herbert shuddered as he surrounding crowd, nnd tho friends were
joy" of tho battle field, ihe excitement ol
its lushing impulses, and its promised guor-
don of glory, have no part in a sirifo like
this. It was n struggle of life with death;
death without fame, naked nnd a-.'palling.
A sound of triumph broke from the for
est, and n third savage, in whose boating
them was the pride of chieftainship, stood
gazing witli n gleaming eyo upon lltn yet
undecided stife. .,
“Shaw-wav-no!” exclaimed tho hunter,‘
with a tone of recognition, and tho savage,
returning a sound of similar import, ad
vanced to tho combatants. A monosylla
ble—less—a sign, nnd the fate of tho white
men was derided,—they wete bound as
captivos. And what was to bocome
of Avoline 1 Regardless of nil but her,
oven amid tho death-grapple in which he
had been efulhed, Herbert Allen had turn
ed with his first pnwot of uttcrauco to the
bouts to nppr i so their men, now in safety
of her covert. Tim boats! merciful boa-
veil—with tho first glimpse of an accession
to the enemy they had bee* unmoored;
they wore already floating fur oil tho stream
and his calls, maddened us they now were
to frezv: awakened but tlm quiot echoes of
the hills. ■
“ Oh God ! oh God ! these thoftgs !
new indeed they are nnandurable. Duse
craven,” ho said, as ho mot tho eye of his
follow prisoner turned on him with a kind
of careless pity. “ Is life, in lltn hands of
these monsters, so very joyous to you,
that vott have bought it thus instead of
selling if for all wo might of their bloodl"
“ Why man," said tho other calmly,
“ wo ntity sell a lilo in thPse hurc parts, a
most any day hi tho week ! but as for buy
ing one, 1 reckon tlu-rc is n ht-ap of differ
ence; so you may just us well make much
of your scalp while you have it. , After nil,
I have seen many a yellow sun set upon a
stormy day," nnd again turning composed
ly to Ihe Indfein Chief, ho pointed where
lie had deposited a large bottle of his own
Invorito liquor. Tho snuky eyes of his
victors glistened. It was a spoil of no or
dinary value, mid with their prisoners in
their’midst, they again struck into the for-
looked at tpe almost ethereal figure of the
scarcely recovered Avoline, and thought
how unequal was such a being to lire ex
ertions ao imperiously required; but wlto
shall measure tho strength, even ol the frail-
lest form, in the soul’s duep purpose! A
nnd the untrodden depths of that far forest,
and thfoug'n tho long, sultry hour of the
burning noon-tide, our little party passed
on, and still tho cheek of that delicate mai
den lost not its coloring, nor her smilu its
brightness, Tbe brow of him whonoted
every variation of her countenance, as the
mother watches those of her sick child,
was occasionally clnodod. Thq. tender
ness, into which the excitement of the re
cent events had betrayed hint, had given
place to silence anti reserve; and as he
soine!tmea|burc her over the difficultlpnsies
of (bo hills, or across an iutorvooing stream,
an expression of conflicting emotion and
passionate despondence wrought his fea
tures with a strange power. As tho day
declined,tho preternntualstrength that had
supported Avoiiue gHvo way to the feeble-
stormy | ness of humanity, and tho travellers, after
■tore greatly yet*-I filer, a youth belonging 1
to your household. One Verni Everill,
to whom you mt|it recollect having given
• sun of money to take some half a day’s
journey. I met him early on hia way, and
hn offered me some reward to taka it for
him* 1 readily undertook its conveyance
but a momentary suggestion of crime led
met to break the sea!"’
“Hear vmi this?'’ interrupted the en-
thusiauic Worthington, turning tothegaus-
pieg Everill, wno stood listening to the tale
witli a breathless intensity of emotion...
“hear yon this, my friend?...but go on my
poor fellow, you broke the pacquet, and”
...“And fled with Am money it contained.
I afterwards learned that young Everill
to yield him."
Verni Everill spoke not, but in the loot
with which he clasped the hlfod that was
hzif extended towards him, thore was the
utterance of a joy’ mocking the power of
language, while Major Worthington caught
her delightedly te his heart. “ All is not*
consummated,” he exclaimed; “ I have
nothing more to wish of earthly happiness.
Avoline; my child, your feelings are tbw
sacred to be tampered with. In this de
votion to res! woftli you have no cherished
memories; no once-bright vision* to sacri
fice. Iu him to whom you now pledge
your faith behold the object of your attach
ment—in Herbert Allen recognize and ac
knowledge Verhi Everill ! Here, Verdi,
preparing a rutin supper Iron) the spoils of
the hunter’s rifle, raised a tent of'blanches
for her repose. The hunter flung himself
on his guo. “ VVo must keep," ho said,
“ an alternate Watch through the'night,”—
and liis cares were the neat moment forgot
ten in'peaceful slutwav, Tim full moon
tho next, moment locked in a deep and
mutual embrace.
“You are much alteretl,” said Major
Worthington, when except Herbert Allen,
who sat with his face buried in his hands,
tu nn obscure part of the room, they were
at length left alone—“ Vet it is but a few
years since we last met.” “ Alas!"'repli-
ed Everill, evidently unconscions of the
presence of a third persou, “ the bfnnfling
impress of shame had not then passed over
my brow. Tell mo,"—and a purple flush
stained his sunkon and sallow cheek, “ tel!
mo if you have ever heard aught of my
wretched hoy?” “ Nothing—though my
enquiries have never been wholly discon
tinued." Everill was for a moment silent
'—hi' eyo was restless and bloodshot, and
his breast heaved with obvious effort.—
“ Major Worthington," lie at hist said in a
low voice, “I owe it to your friendship,
to acknowledge (hut I know its oxtent.
Tho gull; and shame of my unhappy bov
ore no secret to my withered soul.”
“ How,” exclaimed the .Major, shockeJ
beyond the power as disguising his ex
treme embarrassment, “ what mean you—
is it possible—who can liava dared—to
whom indeed was it,"—
", Accident”—resumed tho nnfortunato
father, in that forced tone of stifled calm
ness that tells the depth of suppressed ago-
" Accident threw me in contact with
had left your honse and gone into the ar- j bear het to the air; you may choose your
my, and I hud little doubt but my guilt own manner of explanation. You will
had rested Upon him.” “God be praised!”] recollect I am nn invalid, end the conver-
extfaimed 'Howard Everill, sinking upon sation of lovers is any thing but streogthen-
bfsknees; and Herbert Allen, nowspring-1 ing.” “ Verni Everill!" murmured tho
shed a flood of light through tho forest; a j some one, a stranger to m:i, hut who
cloud of odors rose on,the soft breath of the | seemed to know you familiarly, who Was
evening, nnd «• tlm laiye of Avoiiue was J at that moment detailing to another of
lilted to Ihe scene of he.iuty—so-wild, so ! your friends some failure in u matter of
solemn, so impressivb—it met the. fixed ] considerable moment to you in const),
gazo nt iter preserver.—That gaze was ! quence of a messenger’s basely purloining
lull oflendermtss; ttpdn painful conscious-1 a sum of money, you bad entrusted to-his
ness of ail uimaiural, but entire depend- j care, 'And Was there no redress for him,’
once, so utterly at variance with the clicr-1enquired the other. I listened attentively,
islied scruples of a pine and delicate mind, for whatever involved your namo wus to
colored her pale cheek. “ Avoline," said | mo matter of interest, and tho reply cams
llerbeit Allen, mid tho solemnity of his j with a horrible dislipetness on my oar
tones foil upon lior heart, like the sprihk- I that has left on eternal ringing in my
lings of the baptismal cUp, “ 1 deserve your | bruin, rousing me even from the heavy
trust—sleep only cun rustorff your exhuut- ' si.',op of labour—from the quiet of niid-
tctl strength, and let your rest he ns hers \ night. * Oh no,’ was that reply, “ he
over whom a brother, keeps vigil.” Foe I never even disclosed Who the wretch was;
unsetllod light in tlm troubled eyu of the j and instead of seeking redress, smuggled
maiden, gave instant place to u look of
grateful serenity; and a slumber as tranquil
ns pile menu-light thut lay uii the clos
ed flowers around her, soon fell on her
weary spirit. The voice of the burner,
cliilding Herbert,.who was yet walking
near nor, for suffering him to sleep through
tho whole night's watch, was tho first
sound to which she awnkoned. She
sprang from her couch, mid cxteudod him
her bund. Tho .grey light of early day
heightened the prfeness of fatigtiu and
winching, and Avoline foil Aw deep wps
the interest, that had supp'rted him
through such continued exertion. Hbr
own strength was indeed restored; and
their journey wnx.resumoil with, the elastic
stop of renewed hope. ' The conscious
ness of tlm datigurs that hovered on tlieir
path, blunted Ihn sense of privation aud fa
tigue, and pci haps tlm gentle spirit of Av
tilino drew something ufiis strength from
the conviction, nt all times soothing to
tho soul of woman, that her slightest suf
fering was noted and felt with till tho depth
of intense and passionate sympathy. 1 But
est. Night camo—their encampment was whatever wete her retirees of support, their
pitched, und ihe'botllo, received to dissip
ate tho fatigues of tho flay, was speedily
exhausted. Tho artificial exhilaration it
produced passed into heavy and deathlike
slumber; aud no sound wns heated among
that outstretched group, save tho bursting
groans of Herbert Allen.
"And this man sloops !”ho exclaimed,
as he looked at his fellow captive, in whosn
deep drawn breath there was every indica
tion of sound‘repose—•* Mysterious God,
path of peril tvaa measured Witli but dltle
duluy from the feebleness of tho lovely
jinn never, mid the rude hut massive waffs,
that^promised them security and repose,
weitvnl length huforo them. The fortress
Of Booiicxborough at that tiuioprosemed an
assemblage of stem men—moil, who stood
prepared und girded up to encounter suf
fering, to grapple with dangerous adven
ture, us witli a pastime, aud to meet with
dentil us a familair ami unappulffiig pros
of wlinl pulseless clay hast thou formed ; oner. Some of these were doubtless thus
some of lby creatures." There was a j oerveil hy llui desperiitiou, attending con-
slight stir—the hunter was drawing to- ] scintts crime; aud there weie olhets, who
wards" him with his feet a knife, dropt by j with a nattite framed only for the smoother
one of the savages, and on which thu wn- i paths of iifo, had been strengthened for
niug fire light shed a dull glare. It was ; their present field of stormy action, by tho
achieved—his own thongs and those nf his Ideep, though silent appeal, that reaches
companion were cut in breathless silence, j n father’s heart from his own circle of lov-
and tho philosophic hunter stood upon his oil ones, doomed to u’life of penury.
feel, with n cquutenunce upon which every
trace of its wonted charnctei of indolence
had given place to a dark expression of
deadly hate and ferocious purpose.
Herbert, though no stranger to the pecu
liarities of the western borderer, looked nt
him with surprise. It wsl not n moment
however for idle speculation, hut of stern
neenssity, iu which no compromise might
be made with tho fierce dictates qf suit
pi estimation. Blood (he blood of uncon-
sltepcrs, whoso wild lineaments were yet
those of humanity, though in the externiin
i at tunes In up with a sudden expression of
energy aotl passionate thought, giving to his
jrhole aspects chsmcter of breathing spirit.
It was the midsummer, and one of tbnso vio
lent storms an common to llntl season had driven
: nr voyagers to the shore. It passed, but not
liogetbur l(frinlcssty. An uprooted tree had
(truck the hpw ef their boai,ao4 ail hgads wete
for some bouts employed iu repairing the injury.
Avoiiue ascended the bank* and looked wishful
ly through the gree. arcades of tho forest—a
braelh of flowers, and the mingled hues of
ieeects, znd the sound of running waters, came
opoa ber charmed sense. She felt like the cap
tive bird suddenly looseued to the fr«e air of
hooves, Md. almost at uaeonseious of danger,
the followed the oindtnga of a smalt tributary,
threediag its ailvaty jray frotp,the distant hills.
The gloom of solitude was no longer around her
■0-aff was living beauty; a alight-breexe relieved
tta tat Moetide, aed gave e siir of life to tip
was yet to shed, and h was only for Her
bert to obov the look with which his com
panion, who now stood between two of the
swarthy slumberers, with the instrument of
death already lifted over each, sternly as
signed him. his part in sacrifice. It was
comsummatcd—oo one was left in that en-
rampmi at whom the coming tjay might
awaken to tetrace their steps, and our lib
erated captives were at last silently, 6ul
joyfully, rethreading, their course through
the forest. The morning’s sun looked
brightly upon the scene ef the previous
day’s coolett, and naar it upon the long
wet grass lay the senseless Avoline. Be
side per knelt Herbert Allen; and at uO
great distance tta careless figure of tta
beater, again restored to an appearance of
tupuiforbablu centoeimeut, stood loaoiiig
upoa hie rifle.
“ Avoiiue, oqr talevud avoiiue P* w-
llut by far the grentur parffWore men nc-
customed from -nfimey to deeds of high
though obscure daring—borderers reared,
upon tl o frontiers of fori different states,
and unused to other paths than thosu of
the savago or of the ganto of the forest.
Some of tho belter Ceilings of our uature
arc, however, fttr loss affected l>y rugged
and evon ferocious pursuit, than by tho ar
tificial distinctions of refined life; un<| be
neath tho Imrsh aspects, assembled in that
garrison ofthe wilderness, there beat many
a pulse of kindness and hospitality.—.
There was joy too there with thu arrival
of our little party—such joy as is felt amid
tlie desolation of tho deep, when meeting
ships-'Cxchangu glad greetings. Tho fugi
tives announced ini approuching accession
to their strength, and a party was speedily
fitted out to meet (bo boats, and assist
them in ascending ttaiZ own picturesque
romantic stream. Our hnrrbsssd voyag
ers stood indeed in need of this support—
a fever, the coOaeqOeuce of his wounds,
had rendered all u chaos to Major Worth
ing'an, from the moment of his rescue
from the scalping knife, and in Herbeit
i»od Bryan they had lost all other efficient
resource. • Our little band of veterans was
consequently met With the most entimnted
welcome, end even the suffering Major
seemed suddenly recalled to recollect mu
•* the voice of few beloved Herbeit, now
toothing tta half frantic Edward, with as
surances of Avolinq’s safety -oow enquir
ing with almost cqtlxl tncohajenf e after hi*
tho affair entirely up. Tho truth Ts, I
linlieve the money was taken by one of His
clerks: a young Everill, whom you may
remumbor. An idln—ignoarnt fallow,
whom he could only have kept about him
on account of an uld friendship with his
lather, anil for whoso sake I suppose, tho
affair wns not disclosed; at nil events, he
absconded ut that vorv junciufe,’ “ Wor
thington," continued the unhappy Everill,
as tho largo drops now broke from bis fur
rowed brow with the dreadful effort ho had
made, and tffo features, grown rigid with
suppressed suffering, were slronglv 1 con
vulsed; “ Worthington, even now give
pvntse to him, who in taking from you tho
wife of your idolilary, took also the babes
through whom oiilif you might have
learned the extent ol'the soul's deepest
agony. Since that hour oftorrible convic
tion, I have seen fathers staud Over the
mangled and bloody corpses of tlwir sons,
and have looked upon them with a wither
ing and criminal envy.- What wero the
traces ol'the tomahawk on the fuirbrows of
tlieir boys, to tlm disfiguring blots on the
soul ot mine.” Major Worthington was
affected even to tears. He felt it impossi
ble to offer consolation, und only extended
his band to him hi.silence. But Howard
Everill had lt-arud the hard lessions ol
mastering his own individual sorrows, and
he whs soon able to speak with calmness,
and on other subjects. “ I have but
just," lie said, ‘ returned from a hunt, of
so.uo days, and liavo not yet learned the
particulars ol these wounds ?’ Major
Worthington glmlly detailed the minmite
of tlieir voyage. In speaking of Herbert
Allen, to whose opportune rescue he owed
his exis:enue, he alluded to his many vir
tues with no small degree of enthusiasm.
“Come forward, Horberl,” lie now added,
lucking towards the young man who yet
remained in an attitude of apparent torpor,
"'come forward, my dear Herbert; he
who is to me as a beloved sou must not
rtmiaiii unknown to him, who has been
tho friend of my wholffilife: Why, what is
the matter Allen—have you”
But the surprise to which Herbert’s still
immovable attitude gave risu was at once
suspended by the bustle attendant upon
bringing in at that moment a wounded mm
—a soldier ot the garrison, who in ventur
ing alone too far beyond its walls had been
fired upon by thu savages. He was laid
upon a matrass in the same apartment,
and his dying eye, for it was evidently
glazing with death, almost immediately
caught tho features of tho Major, beside
whom ho was laid. " Major Worthing
ton!" lie exclaimed, “ or is it only a re
semblance to remind me at this terrible
moment of my crimes?" “My name is
Worthington,” said the Major, leaning
compassiouatelv towards biro—" do you
then know me?"
“Ah, but too well—and yet if I am to
die, may I not by acknowledgement, les
son my account* Why, I have no blood
open my liaoda—no perjury on my soul.
Is guilt thou so very fearful a thing that its
lesser doeds weigh upon otto so heavily.
My course of wickedaess. Major Wor
thington, has been but a start onr, for
when yon first knew me, idleness had been
my only crime." "Poor fallow—I have
no recollection of having ever known you
—when .or where!” “I was for years an
idler iu your neighbourhood, blit not in
deed one likely to be aoted by such as you
Were.- Still I injured you, and much
mg forward, stood with clasped hands he
fore him...“My father...my father! look at
me, your son...the shame has fallen from
your name...God has withdrawn his chas
tening in his own due lime...Acknowledge
and bless your otvn.” “And is it evun
so!" murmured the excited Worthington,
as his benevolent, gaze now radiated with
joy, rested upon the locked forms of the
futher and son, so strangely ransomed from
dishonor, “Ah, surely age lias been drawing
Its misty fingers through my perceptiops,
or I should hive discovered this earlier,
for over those disfigured features there
have still been the gleamings of their for
mer brightness. But Verm,” he at length
added, “am I to have no share ia the joy
of your redemption? I • losing Herbert
Allen, do I also lose the son of iny affec
tion?” “Oh, no, no!’ and Verni Everill,
now sprung to the embrace of his friend.
“To you 1 owe it all. But for your kind
ness i had been a blasted outcasi, stricken
alike from fume, and from unibilioo, and
trom hope. My father,, let us bear him
to a more quiet apartment, nnd there 1
will explain alt that has led to tho present
moment."
It txxs a brief, but to tho parties inter
esting explanation. At bis last interview
witli bis patron, Verni bad rushed from Ins
house ouly to seen tho youth, to whose
caro some projected nmuseineut bad in
duced him to transfer Iris mission, it was
of course of vain search, aud it was iheu
that the consoiousness of having forfeited-
that high trust uf character winch could
alone hav e supported his unatlesteil asscr
lion, burst upon him with a maddening
power. Nothing now wus before trim but
despair and shame—no anchor was left
him upon which his soul might rest in this
hour of tompest. A company was levy
ing for tho reinforcbtnem of tlie army, aud
hu entered it as a volunteer. Called al
most immediately to tho field, lie was con
veyed .from it mangled and senseless, to
tlie puff onvirons of a hospital. Here he
hud leisure for many a hitter und agonizing
yet in tho end salutary though. When lie
at length rose from |iis couch of suffering,
it was to bolmld himself but the changed
aud repulsive remnant of what ho was. A
vague and dreamlike thought,gradually
assuming form and strength, stole over his
soul. “For tho sake of my father,” be
mused. “I have been cherished iu folly
and spured in shame. 1 will yet stand re
deemed by mysolf alone. Amid the very
household where I have forfeited my claim
to respec—beneath thn.very eye. that has
witnessed my follios und by abasement, I
will yet rise to confidence and to esteem."
With liis earliest return of strength, ha
devoted himself with an intensity of pur
pose that overcame every obstacle, to
those branches ol knowledge, in which lie
had been found most pulpauly deficient,
tiff a perfect restoration to health enabled
him at length, to .seek the dwelling.of Ma
jor WorthingtOn. No one recognized him,
and assuming tho jiabtismui names ot his
two brother's as taiisinuuic, as well as fa
miliar sounds, ho obtained tho sorvilo em
ployment from which he trusted to his
own efforts for future exemptfou.
“ Your purpose has boon inoro than ful
filled,” said Major Worthington, who hud
found iu ihe happiness uf the past hour a
more efficient medicine than tlie proudest
attainment ofthe healing art; “and now, us
you see 1 am quite able to hear all of joy
ful agitation, that earth cun afibrd, you
may certainly |lermit mo ai last to see my
beloved Avoiiue. It is fit, my dear Ever
ill,' that you should have a share in my
children, as IJn yours.” With a counte
nance, which if not yet altogether restored
to its original beauty, instinct with high
fcoliog and-tho belter rudiauco of recent
joy, thought an occasional shadow still
told of somo unquiet thought, Verni Ever
ill conducted Avoline to her uncle’s pillow.
Major Worthington presented her to bis
friend with all her pride of paternal affec
tion. “ Avoline,” he now said, as hu drew
her fondly towards bint! “ Edward oOco
told me that your early life tvas spent in
the immediate neighborhood of Vonti
Everill—that ho was (he lavonritc associ
ate of your childhood—your champion ut
school—and that you indeed owed you
the intrepidity with which, at the risk of fair
own’ he snatched you Irom a lake of ices
thatwaspartipg beneath|your foot. Is this so?
Ah, that blush is sufficient answer. I
suppose then, my dear, you will find no dif
ficulty in regarding this, his father, as yout*
own. Verni Everill, who has followed
him to this new world, yet regards you with
affection, and it only remains for you to sub
scribe to a covenant that shall unite our
famffes by yet another bond. Avoline's
color went and come, but her dark eye
was lifted with a full and seranejexpression
to her ancle's face. n Verni Everill.” sbe
said in a tone of mild solemnity, “was once
exceedingly dear to me; and I shall ever
think of him with gratitude and interest;
but, my dear uncle, in seeking longer to
veil affection, that have a deeper fount than
the partialities of childhood, I shoul be
unworthy of your trust. From the idea of
a anion with Herbert Allen I ooce recoil
ed, but time has taught me far different
sentiments. To his virtues I owe this so
lemn agd free avowal; and to him,” she
continued, as her pure toft eye was now
turned timidly towards hint, “ to him, to
yrhom I owe yoor" preservation, dearer e-
vao than my owe—if he yet value the gift
—do I now proffer the hsajt which you,
in y more than father, but lately wished
bewildered maiden, as ber betrothed, pres
sing her passionately to his heat t, bore her
ftom the apartment. “ He, whose image
was for long years perpetually at my side
—whose memory I have indeed cherished
with a love, thut but for the strange resem
blance you occasionally bore him, had
scarcely yielded to virtuos not hie, Ver
ni—Herbert, which ever yqu are; Ob I
solve this dream of mystery IV Hours
roiled away and still our lovers had re
traced but a small part ofthe eventful
Past.
Major Worthing slept cntmly and re
freshingly'; und in the apartment of. the
dying soldier, whose path no human eye
Itad marked with interest, Howaid Evetill
spent the long watches of the night in
seeking to administer hope and strc ngiA to
the parting and spirit. Tiicmornininglight
at last broketipon that forest garrison, afid
with the shadows of night passed the strug
gling soul of the soldier: if not inthatrejoi-
ciiig faith to whose evo lIn-glories of heaven
are already unveiled, in thut trembling
hope which prayer aud penitence pour
over the spirit. And while those around
him wore wakening to the varied -excilo-
meuts of tho new day, Howard Everill,
alone in that chamber of death, now lifted
up tlm voice of ihanksgivinn with a joy,
ouly loss holy—less iueflkble than tlml of
tho just made perfect, exclaiming in tho
beautiful language of tho parable, 'My son
was dead but alive again: be was lost but
is foupfl.’
From the New York Spectator,
LETTER FROM WASHINGTON
IRVING.
The friends of this distinguished writor
will bo well pleased to taar from him
again, and still morn to read the foliowing
sketch of his regent journeyings among tho
wild tribes beyond tho vergo of civiliza
tion; and wo earnestly hope, that it will
qot be long before we have something
more than a sketch of litis ioferettiog tour;
although wo believe In- has as yet written
nothing upon ' tho subject for tho press.—
The fetter before us, it will ho perceived,
was written to a friend in Europe, during
Mr. Irving’s recent sojourn iu Washing
ton. It teaches us through the medium
uf the London Athenaium. .
Washington City, Dee. 18, 1332.
I arrived hero a few days «in6e, from o
tour of several months, which carried mu
far to the West boyond the bounds of civ
ilization.
After I wrote to you in August, from,
I think,-Niagara, I proceeded, with my
agrne'blu follow travel! ers; Mr. L. and Mr.
Mr. P.* to Buffuloe, and we embarked at
Black Rack, on Lake Erie. On bpurd of
the steam boat wus Mr. E. one ofthe com
missioners appoiutod by the government
to superintend the srttlcmenl of tho emi
grant Indian tribes, to the west ofthe Mis
sissippi. Ho was on bis way totheplace
of rendezvous, ami on liis invitation, wa
tigroed to accompany him in his expedi
tion. The offer was too tempting to be
resisted. I should have an opportunity
of sooing tho remnants of those groat In
dian tribes, which are now about to disap
pear as independent nations, or to bn n-
■nalgamuted under some new form of gov-,
crimmnt. I should see these fine coun
tries of the “far west,” while still m a
state of prestino wilderness, aud behold
hards of buffaloes scouring tlieir native
prairies, before they are driven beyond the
reach of a civilized tourist.
We accordingly, traversed the centre of
Ohio, and embarked in a steamboat of
Cincinnati, for Louisville, hi Kentucky.
Thence we descended tlie Ohio river in
another steamboat, and ascended the Mis-
prolon jed by repeatedly running aground,
in cousuquetice of tta Tow',ess ol tlie waters,
and on tho first occasion wo were noarly
wriicked]and sent to the bottom, by encoun
tering another steamboat coming with all
the impetus of u high pressure engine, and
a rapid current. Fortunately we had time
to shear a little so ns te receive tta blow
obliquely, which carried away part of a
wheel and ail the upper works on one side
of the boat.
From St. Louis I wont to Fort Jeffer
son, about nine miles distunt, Jo sge Blae^
Hawk, the Indian warrior, anil his follow
prisioaers.-...a forlorn crew, emuciaied-and
dejacted....the redoubtable chieftahi him
self, a meagre old man upwards, of seven-,
tv. He has, however, a fine head, a Re
man style of face, and a prepossessing
countenance. °
At St. Louis, we booght horse* for our
selves, and n covered wdggon for baggago,
tents, provisidns, <fec. aud travelled by
fend to Independence, a small frontier
hamlet of log houses, situated between
two and three hundred mites up the Mis-
squri, on the utmost verge of civilization.'
• • • • • • •
From Independence we struck across
the Idiae country, aloog tho lioe of tho
Indian missions; and arrived on tta 8lh of
October, after ten or eleven days’ tramp
at Fort Gibson, a frontier fort at Arkansas.
Onr journey lay almost entirely through
vs* prairies, or open grass plains, dlversi-
fi-d occasionally by taautifa) groves ahd
deep fertile bottoms along the streams of
water. ' We lived in froetier and almost
* Mr. Latrabeaad Carat Portalie. Mr. Irvine
had UMI with these gentlemen at Dofeon, in My.
rad hadtraveHed togvthe r la tha White Mountains
of Now Hampshire, tb-.ragh a country which ho
Jiranbaoaajwsntifct, with aloe mixtere oflukc*
and finest*, and bng’.a par* running streams.
sissippi to S|* J_ouij. O.ur voyage mt