Wyandotté; Or, The Hutted Knoll: A Tale. James Fenimore Cooper
at a window with an arm round the slender waist of Beulah, Maud standing a little aloof; and, as the twilight retired, leaving the shadows of evening to thicken on the forest that lay within a few hundred feet of that side of the Hut, and casting a gloom over the whole of the quiet solitude, he felt the force of the feeling just mentioned, in a degree he had never before experienced.
"This is a very retired abode, my sisters," he said, thoughtfully. "Do my father and mother never speak of bringing you out more into the world?"
"They take us to New York every winter, now father is in the Assembly," quietly answered Beulah. "We expected to meet you there, last season, and were greatly disappointed that you did not come."
"My regiment was sent to the eastward, as you know, and having just received my new rank of major, it would not do to be absent at the moment. Do you ever see any one here, besides those who belong to the manor?"
"Oh! yes"--exclaimed Maud eagerly--then she paused, as if sorry she had said anything; continuing, after a little pause, in a much more moderated vein--"I mean occasionally. No doubt the place is very retired."
"Of what characters are your visiters?--hunters, trappers, settlers--savages or travellers?"
Maud did not answer; but, Beulah, after waiting a moment for her sister to reply, took that office on herself.
"Some of all," she said, "though few certainly of the latter class. The hunters are often here; one or two a month, in the mild season; settlers rarely, as you may suppose, since my father will not sell, and there are not many about, I believe; the Indians come more frequently, though I think we have seen less of them, during Nick's absence than while he was more with us. Still we have as many as a hundred in a year, perhaps, counting the women. They come in parties, you know, and five or six of these will make that number. As for travellers, they are rare; being generally surveyors, land-hunters, or perhaps a proprietor who is looking up his estate. We had two of the last in the fall, before we went below."
"That is singular; and yet one might well look for an estate in a wilderness like this. Who were your proprietors?"
"An elderly man, and a young one. The first was a sort of partner of the late Sir William's, I believe, who has a grant somewhere near us, for which he was searching. His name was Fonda. The other was one of the Beekmans, who has lately succeeded his father in a property of considerable extent, somewhere at no great distance from us, and came to take a look at it. They say he has quite a hundred thousand acres, in one body."
"And did he find his land? Tracts of thousands and tens of thousands, are sometimes not to be discovered."
"We saw him twice, going and returning, and he was successful. The last time, he was detained by a snow-storm, and staid with us some days--so long, indeed, that he remained, and accompanied us out, when we went below. We saw much of him, too, last winter, in town."
"Maud, you wrote me nothing of all this! Are visiters of this sort so very common that you do not speak of them in your letters?"
"Did I not?--Beulah will scarce pardon me for that. She thinks Mr. Evert Beekman more worthy of a place in a letter, than I do, perhaps."
"I think him a very respectable and sensible young man," answered Beulah quietly though there was a deeper tint on her cheek than common, which it was too dark to see. "I am not certain, however, he need fill much space in the letters of either of your sisters.'
"Well, this is something gleaned!" said the major, laughing--"and now, Beulah, if you will only let out a secret of the same sort about Maud, I shall be au fait of all the family mysteries."
"All!" repeated Maud, quickly--"would there be nothing to tell of a certain major Willoughby, brother of mine?"
"Not a syllable. I am as heart-whole as a sound oak, and hope to remain so. At all events, all I love is in this house. To tell you the truth, girls, these are not times for a soldier to think of anything but his duty. The quarrel is getting to be serious between the mother country and her colonies."
"Not so serious, brother," observed Beulah, earnestly, "as to amount to that. Evert Beekman thinks there will be trouble, but he does not appear to fancy it will go as far as very serious violence."
"Evert Beekman!--most of that family are loyal, I believe; how is it with this Evert?"
"I dare say, you would call him a rebel," answered Maud, laughing, for now Beulah chose to be silent, leaving her sister to explain, "He is not fiery; but he calls himself an American, with emphasis; and that is saying a good deal, when it means he is not an Englishman. Pray what do you call yourself, Bob?"
"I!--Certainly an American in one sense, but an Englishman in another. An American, as my father was a Cumberland-man, and an Englishman as a subject, and as connected with the empire."
"As St. Paul was a Roman. Heigho!--Well, I fear I have but one character--or, if I have two, they are an American, and a New York girl. Did I dress in scarlet, as you do, I might feel English too, possibly."
"This is making a trifling misunderstanding too serious," observed Beulah. "Nothing can come of all the big words that have been used, than more big words. I know that is Evert Beekman's opinion."
"I hope you may prove a true prophet," answered the major, once more buried in thought. "This place does seem to be fearfully retired for a family like ours. I hope my father may be persuaded to pass more of his time in New York. Does he ever speak on the subject, girls, or appear to have any uneasiness?"
"Uneasiness about what? The place is health itself: all sorts of fevers, and agues, and those things being quite unknown. Mamma says the toothache, even, cannot be found in this healthful spot."
"That is lucky--and, yet, I wish captain Willoughby--Sir Hugh Willoughby could be induced to live more in New York. Girls of your time of life, ought to be in the way of seeing the world, too."
"In other words, of seeing admirers, major Bob," said Maud, laughing, and bending forward to steal a glance in her brother's face. "Good night. Sir Hugh wishes us to send you into his library when we can spare you, and my lady has sent us a hint that it is ten o'clock, at which hour it is usual for sober people to retire."
The major kissed both sisters with warm affection--Beulah fancied with a sobered tenderness, and Maud thought kindly--and then they retired to join their mother, while he went to seek his father.
The captain was smoking in the library, as a room of all-head-work was called, in company with the chaplain. The practice of using tobacco in this form, had grown to be so strong in both of these old inmates of garrisons, that they usually passed an hour, in the recreation, before they went to bed. Nor shall we mislead the reader with any notions of fine-flavoured Havana segars; pipes, with Virginia cut, being the materials employed in the indulgence. A little excellent Cogniac and water, in which however the spring was not as much neglected, as in the orgies related in the previous chapter, moistened their lips, from time to time, giving a certain zest and comfort to their enjoyments. Just as the door opened to admit the major, he was the subject of discourse, the proud parent and the partial friend finding almost an equal gratification in discussing his fine, manly appearance, good qualities, and future hopes. His presence was untimely, then, in one sense; though he was welcome, and, indeed, expected. The captain pushed a chair to his son, and invited him to take a seat near the table, which held a spare pipe or two, a box of tobacco, a decanter of excellent brandy, a pitcher of pure water, all pleasant companions to the elderly gentlemen, then in possession.
"I suppose you are too much of a maccaroni, Bob, to smoke," observed the smiling father. "I detested a pipe at your time of life; or may say, I was afraid of it; the only smoke that was in fashion among our scarlet coats being the smoke of gunpowder. Well, how comes on Gage, and your neighbours the Yankees?"
"Why, sir," answered the major, looking behind him, to make sure that the door was shut--"Why, sir, to own the truth, my visit, here, just at this moment, is connected with the present state of that quarrel."
Both the captain and the chaplain drew the pipes