Ballad of Adam Bell, "Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly".

As the Knight, with confident steps, led the way, Arundel expressed surprise at the skill which he displayed.

"You forget that I may be said to be half an Indian myself," said Sir Christopher, "and am therefore entitled to a knowledge of the woods. I know not how many times I have accompanied the natives in their distant hunting expeditions, and it would be strange if the experience were thrown away."

"But surely you could never have penetrated so far in the direction of this fierce tribe?"

"Farther, my young friend. I have wandered more than a week's journey to every quarter of the compass from my lodge; and it is the knowledge of the country thus derived, and intimacy with Indian character, that inspire me with resolution in our enterprise. It might be considered a perilous accomplishment," he added, with a smile, "since it recommended me to the consideration of the Council, to whom, moreover, the life of one not of the congregation is of less value."

The Knight had never before shown a disposition to be so communicative. Perhaps the isolation of the two from the world, and the devotion which Arundel had manifested, heightened his feeling of regard, and drew out his confidence. The young man's interest in the conversation increased, and he said:

"Surely, you would not impute to the Governor, or to a majority of his counsellors, a design to expose you to probable destruction. Unutterable baseness were therein."

"I said not so. I pray thee, Master Arundel, to attach no such construction to my words; you would thereby do foul wrong to my thoughts. Nay, I thank the Governor for honoring me with the commission, and doubt not that he acted only in obedience to a higher prompting than his own. I did but point to a feeling which thine enlightenment must lament as much as mine, and which contracts Christian love into very narrow and erroneous boundaries. Dost thou understand me?"

"I think I do. You refer to the jealous retainer of power in the hands of their Church."

"Of their Church, so called. Here are we, for example: we may desire, with that natural longing whereby men are sometimes animated, to enter into closer relations, and to bind ourselves by more intimate ties with those around us, (oftentimes, I fear me, for purposes of worldly advancement, as well as encouragement in holy living); and, lo! a very slight difference of opinion—a sublety whereon a casuist shall batter his brains for days in vain—shall build up a wall of exclusion, especially if there be some within the enchanted circle who are jealous of our influence and distrust their own."

"I doubt not you are right. My own observation partly confirms these views, though I have been too short a time in the colony to form an undistrusted opinion. My youth and inexperience admonish me to express myself doubtfully; but I think myself safe in agreeing with you, that this is scarcely the best way to establish that universal Church to which the ambition of the Puritans aspires."

"Have a care, Master Arundel," said the Knight, laughing, and his laugh rang out joyously through the forest, as if he were glad to escape from restraint, and in strong contrast with the caution which he recommended, "lest thy treason be carried by some bird to the enthusiastic Endicott, or the stern Dudley, and thou be made to atone for thy lese majesté."

"I bear them no ill will, and they know it. I am but a stranger among them, seeking at their hands a jewel most unjustly detained, and which, if given up, will hardly endanger the common weal. But, Sir Christopher, explain your sentiments more perfectly on the point whither our conversation converged."

"Master Arundel, I am a soldier, and no casuist, and, therefore, hardly so well prepared to answer as good Mr. Eliot, or grave Mr. Wilson; yet do thoughts on such subjects sometimes puzzle the brains of a soldier in a steel helmet, as well as those of a teacher in a Geneva cap; and, sworn brothers as we are, proving our affection by a voluntary community of danger, I will not hesitate to avow my secret reflections, knowing that they are safe in thy keeping. All Christians must acknowledge Holy Scripture, when properly understood, as the imperative rule of faith, without a belief of which there can be no salvation. Now, in Scripture I do find the Church likened unto a net let down into the sea, and when drawn up containing within itself a diversity of fishes. This similitude teaches me that the Blessed Founder of our religion did contemplate variety, and not that strict and tame uniformity which would compel every curve into a straight line, and make the Church more like a platoon of point device Spanish soldiers than reasoning men variously organized."

"I have heard the text differently explained, to wit: that the Church is thereby intended to be represented as a receptacle of all men, without distinction of Jew or Gentile—of color, or of whatever separates man from man."

"They who interpret it thus, do limit the Word of God, and make vain the text itself. For, was it not designed that all should be brought within one fold, that there might be one shepherd? Now, how may this be done, if respect be not had to the prepossessions and prejudices of mankind? See the infinite differences that prevail all through the world. These it is the sacred prerogative of the Church to guide and control—not violently tearing them up by the roots, but making them subservient to her advancement."

"That, it seems to me, were little better than encouraging heathenism under the forms of Christianity."

"Nay, it is more like the manœuvre of a skilful helmsman, who, when a flaw that may not be resisted strikes the sails of his ship, doth not luff, and thereby increase the power of his enemy, and risk destruction, but, by a gentle turn of the rudder, glides by the danger, making its very violence facilitate his advance; or it may be compared to the progress of a wise traveller, who, when he encounters a steep hill, doth not always press straight forward, but, influenced by its shape, sometimes turns aside and encircles its base, thereby diminishing the labor and not increasing the distance."

"It doth look to me," said Arundel, "more like the crooked track of the serpent, which cannot advance to its object without twisting its body into contortions."

"And can anything be more graceful than its lovely curves? Doth not Scripture in some manner commend the sagacious reptile, holding him up to us as an example, and bidding us be wise even as serpents? The children of Israel, moreover, when in the wilderness, were cured of their wounds by merely looking at the brazen serpent, thereby typifying the value of wisdom, whereof the snake is an emblem."

"You are more skilled in dialectic than I," said Arundel, laughing, "and were I to hear you with shut eyes, I should think a monk's cowl would fit your head better than a morion."

Sir Christopher stole a sharp, quick glance at his companion at these words, but he could notice nothing in the youth's handsome features save the light-heartedness of a happy spirit. He seemed to think it necessary, however, to explain more perfectly the meaning of what he had been saying.

"Harbor not the thought," he continued, "that I, in any wise, approve the damnable doctrines which, by many zealous Protestants, are ascribed to the Catholic Church, viz: that religion consists in the mumbling of unmeaning forms and performance of unnecessary ceremonies; in the gaudy decoration of temples with pictures and statues, which some consider an incitement to devotion; in an entire abandonment of the soul of the layman to the care of the priest, as if the laic himself had no part in working out his salvation. As a good Protestant, I am bound to condemn and anathematize these errors; but, more distinctly, I hold that our Puritan brethren (to come back to the point of departure) are over-strict and unwise in applying a Procrustean measure in their discipline, and, for that reason, if for no other, they cannot be a Church universal. Too stiff, unbending and unforgiving are they to the weaknesses of human nature, and, therefore, (without more,) I predict utter failure to every attempt of theirs to make the natives like themselves. They do forget that milk, not flesh meat, is the food for babes."

"Hold you these Puritans to be, in any true sense, a Church at all?" inquired Arundel.

Again the Knight looked sharply at the other, and this time he burst into a laugh, wherein, it seemed to the young man, a sneer was mingled with the gaiety.

"That were a dangerous question," he answered, "anywhere else than three days' journey from Winthrop, and to ears less forgiving than mine. But here we are, debating, as thou didst intimate a moment ago, more like two pattering monks than journeying like merry cavaliers. For my part, the dissensions of Christendom weary me, and I prefer to leave to the holy men vowed to the service of the altar, the labor of unloosing the knots of controversy, rather than perplex my brains with them. Come, Master Arundel, hast never a song wherewith to waken the echoes of the virgin forest and shorten the toils of our way?"

"I esteem not myself a singer, though I can troll a stave or two," replied the young man. "But I fear that my minstrelsy would be rude and uncouth to the cultivated ears of one who, like you, Sir Christopher, hath listened to the lays of many lands, and so, refined and perfected his taste."

"It is true," said the Knight, "that I have heard the songs of many countries, warbled by beauty to the accompanying sounds of divers instruments, from Spain to Persia, from the Andalusian guitar to the Turkish lute. But fear me not. I am no supercilious critic. Thy modesty hides merit. I will be bound now that thy performance will exceed thy promise."

"But is there no danger of attracting wandering savages, and so being taken prisoners, or shot with their arrows?"

"The danger of being treated as enemies is less, for what Indian would suspect such of going singing through the woods?"

"Then here is my song," said Arundel, "but I shall look for a like complaisance on thy part."

"Good!" exclaimed the Knight. "Thy voice is as sweet as a sky-lark's, and runs with marvellous cunning through the harmonious changes of the tune. Why, never preface thy song again with an apology, or I shall begin to doubt thy sincerity."

"Wild woods and savage life have not tarnished the courtly polish of Sir Christopher Gardiner," said Arundel. "And now for my guerdon, though in truth I feel shame for the little I have been able to do, in comparison with what I expect."

"By my troth, thou art a master in the science of delicate compliments. There was, I confess, a time when, with youthful vanity, I did esteem myself possessed of some skill, and could step along the gamut with any Don or Signor of them all; but that is long since, and I fear me that the gutturals of Northern Germany have quite driven out of my throat the liquids and vowels of Italy. However, to pleasure me, thou hast sung with infinite discretion and wonderful sweetness, a most delectable song; and now it were boorish not to attempt at least to repay thy musical favor."

So saying, the Knight sung in a manner and with an expression that proved him to be an accomplished musician, and in some contrast with the less artful style of Arundel, the following song:

"You have well profited by your opportunities, Sir Christopher," said Arundel, at its conclusion. "By mine honor, such sweet and artful notes never waked the echoes of a mighty forest. I seemed to mingle in the graceful fandango, and to taste the exhilarating Xeres in your song."

"Ah!" replied the Knight, with a half sigh. "It is only a reminiscence of youthful follies. But now it is thy turn again. I warrant me there is store of ravishing melodies in the treasury whence thou didst take thine."

"I dare not," said the young man modestly, "sing after thee. My poor notes would sound like those of the croaking raven, in comparison with the warblings of the yellow minstrel of the Canaries."

"Out with thee, hyperbolical flatterer! Believe me—I set a higher value on thy nature than on my art. Come, pipe up once more, and I will, meanwhile, try to recall another ditty."

"If such is to be my reward, I will not refuse, although I do thereby only expose my own incapacity. Here is a serenade:

"Excellent," exclaimed the Knight. Never talk to me of the wonderful little birds of the Canaries, unless to call thyself one. I fancy thy verses a tribute to the celestial attractions of Mistress Eveline Dunning."

"And now let me hear thee," said Arundel.

"I did match my first lay," said Sir Christopher, "to thy youthful blood. Now will I give thee one more befitting my years and gravity," and adapting the words to a wild foreign air, the Knight sent his rich full voice ringing through the wood.

"Hist!" he said, interrupting the song. "What is it I see gliding in yonder thicket? Stand fast, Master Arundel, while I go forward to reconnoitre."

The young man would have accompanied him, but this Sir Christopher imperatively forbade. "Thou art under my lead and protection," he said, "and foul shame were it, should I expose thee to a danger which I should face myself alone;" and in spite of his urgency, Arundel was obliged to remain behind.

The Knight was gone, perhaps, a quarter of an hour, and Arundel began to be anxious at the length of his absence, and had stepped forward a few rods to seek him, when he made his appearance.

"If it were a wild beast, or anything that could harm us," he cried, as he approached, "it has glided off into the bushes."

"Then shall I entreat the continuance of thy song. I would like to hear resolved the question which it pleases the poet to ask."

"I care not to sing more now," returned the Knight. "My voice, I perceive, begins to roughen, and brawls along more like a shallow brook, over pebbles, than the flow of a deep, equable stream, It were to shame the brave words."

This determination Arundel was unable to alter, and he could not avoid ascribing it quite as much to a change of opinion in his companion, respecting the prudence of singing in that wild region, as to any assumed roughness of voice. Thinking thus, he unslung his gun, and examined carefully the priming, holding himself in readiness for any emergency. He noticed, however, to his surprise that no such precautions were adopted by Sir Christopher, who, though in silence, walked with as fearless a step as ever, and allowed his piece to remain upon his back.

The shades of evening were now beginning to wrap objects in obscurity, and it became necessary to look out for a place of rest. In finding one fitted for the purpose, the Knight betrayed no embarrassment.

"There should be," he said, "a small cave in the neighborhood, wherein we may be sheltered. I will lead thee thither in a short time."

Accordingly, they descended the side of a pretty steep declivity, and, at the bottom, forming a sort of miniature valley, found the object of their search. It was certainlyf a very small cave, if, indeed, the recess, which was not twelve feet deep, made by the jutting out of some huge rocks from the side of the hill, deserved the name. A brook came dashing round before the cave, separating it as it were from its surroundings, and deepening its privacy; and over the entrance hung immense hemlock branches, sweeping with their evergreen plumes the rocky roof, and almost hiding the aperture. It seemed impossible to have selected a place better adapted for concealment.

"We need not fear," said the Knight, "to make a fire in this secluded spot. It will serve to keep off wild animals, and as for Indians, they can hardly be expected to stumble on us."

Arundel, as being only a follower, and inferior in experience of wood-craft to his elder friend, made no objection, but addressed himself to prepare for passing the night. The two, with their hunting hatchets, cut from the moist land, watered by the brook, a quantity of hemlock boughs, wherewith to compose their beds, making couches more comfortable, and even luxurious to a tired wanderer, than one would suppose who had never tried them. Next, they kindled a fire, whereupon supper was prepared—some small game, consisting of partridges and rabbits which they had shot in the course of the day. These, together with the parched corn they brought from home, not without a draught or two of aqua vitae tempered by the pure stream, satisfied the cravings of appetite.

"And now, Master Arundel," said the Knight, after the repast was finished, during which he had looked with admiring eyes on the achievements of his companion, "tell me, didst ever, at princely banquet in courtly hall, enjoy with keener zest the artificial dishes of cunning cooks, designed to tickle the delicate and difficultly pleased palate?"

"Never," answered Arundel. "Knew the epicures of Europe the efficacy of a forest tramp, we should meet them oftener than Indians in the woods."

"Thus deals boon nature with her children," said Sir Christopher. "Out of the richness of her abundance doth she prodigally supply what man, with all his devices, cannot obtain. The scent of the woodland, the winged minstrelsy, the murmur of the brook, and tripping of the deer, say I, before the inventions and appliances of dissatisfied man, whereby he vainly tries to procure to himself pleasures which he might have for the asking. But how fares it otherwise with thee? Art not tired? With me, who am an old campaigner, our tramp should be a trifle, and yet I confess my limbs are not as supple as in the morning. Thou wert excusable shouldest thou feel it more."

"I feel no fatigue now," said Arundel, "though an hour ago I might have confessed it. But what is that?" he exclaimed, grasping his gun. "Methought I saw two eyes peering from the thicket. Shall I fire?" he added, bringing the piece to his shoulder.

"For thy life, no!" interposed the Knight quickly, striking up the muzzle of the gun. "That were to inform any wandering savages of our retreat."

"I will then explore the bush to find out what it is, whom curiosity has attracted—whether beast or Indian."

"It were well not to do so," said the Knight. "It would only be unnecessary exposure; and an enemy, if it be one, would have every possible advantage in waiting for thee—he knowing thy position, and thou not his."

"Nevertheless, it were a great satisfaction could I discern the creature. Perhaps I may bring back a buck for breakfast. Thou art acquainted with the stupid habit of deer to gaze on fire. It may be one of them."

"For all that, I counsel thee to remain. A prudent soldier exposes not himself to danger without cause."

"By Heaven!" exclaimed Arundel, "I see the eyes of the animal again, in the light of the fire. I will shoot, come what will of it;" and before the Knight could interfere, he had discharged his piece in the direction of the object. The dark woods echoed to the report, and some birds disturbed from their perches began to flutter blindly round, but no other sounds were heard, and presently silence, as profound as before, brooded over the forest.

"Thou hast been guilty of a sad imprudence, Master Arundel," said the Knight, "and I hope no evil consequences may result therefrom. What art thou about now?"

But the young man, who, from the instant he had discharged his piece, had been busy reloading it, and whose preparations were now completed, paid no attention to the question; but, excited by what he had seen, rushed out of the cave into the open air.

"Santa Madre de Dios!" exclaimed the Knight. "I hope nothing evil will befall him. Were it better now to follow or to remain?"

While Sir Christopher was deliberating, Arundel, holding his piece in readiness, cautiously took his way toward the thicket, whence he fancied the eyes had looked. As he was groping along, not yet recovered from the blinding effect of the fire-glare, he suddenly felt his gun seized, and several strong arms thrown round his person. He cried out for assistance, and struggled, but in vain. The gun was torn away, a hand placed over his mouth, and a tomahawk brandished at him, as if to intimate his doom, should he continue his outcries. In this state of things nothing was left but to yield himself to his captors, and, resigning himself to his fate, he waited for what should follow; nor was he kept long in suspense, for presently an Indian came gliding up to the group in whose midst he stood, and spoke a few words, whereupon he was led to the cave, and directed by signs to enter it. Here he found Sir Christopher lying quietly on the ground, without apparently having received any injury, and his piece in the possession of some Indians by whom he was surrounded. Arundel was permitted to sit down by his side, admiring, as he did so, the wonderful composure of the Knight.

CHAPTER XX.

Bryant.

Arundel had now an opportunity to look round and observe the state of things. Besides the Knight and himself, there were seven or eight Indians in the little cavern, armed with bows and arrows; and he remarked with pleasure that these persons were not stained with war-paint, indicating that they were on no hostile expedition, but engaged in hunting. So far from offering violence, or even rudeness, the savages treated them with marked deference, keeping at a respectful distance, and yielding to them the piles of hemlock branches which they had arranged for couches. Arundel listened to the conversation between the Knight and the Indians with that strained attention with which one unacquainted with a language will sometimes hang upon its sounds, as if by a concentration of the faculties to wring a sense out of it; and if he was unable to make out the meaning of the words, he at least satisfied himself, both from the intonation of the voices and expression of the faces, that no immediate injury was designed. To the appealing looks which Arundel from time to time directed to him, the Knight at length replied:

"I know not, Master Arundel, whether we should consider ourselves more fortunate or the contrary, in falling into the hands of these copper-colored cavaliers. We are their prisoners, and, as such, bound to obey their motions; but their presence will guard us from attack, and in that way be a shield; and their treatment in other respects will shame, I doubt not, the conduct of more civilized men in like circumstances."

"Know you," inquired Arundel, "the name of their tribe, and their intentions towards us?"

"They are Taranteens, and, as far as I can learn, mean to take us to one of their villages. It was fortunate your shot took not effect; for, otherwise, I know not what would have been the consequence."

"I confess now its rashness; but it is manifest that we were tracked, and, in any event, would have been prisoners."

"Perhaps not prisoners. Perhaps, after making our acquaintance, they would have offered us their company as an escort. As it is, we must submit to close watchfulness on our journey, and, afterwards, take what fate may come. I counsel thee (and speak as one knowing the habits of these people) to betray no distrust or apprehension. We must show that we rely with perfect assurance on our character as ambassadors, not only for immunity from danger, but for courteous treatment. And now," he added, disposing himself to rest, "we had better court that sleep which will be so necessary to prepare us for the fatigues of to-morow."

Arundel followed his example, and, as if it had been a signal for the Indians, they all left the cave, with the exception of two, who stretched themselves out by the fire at the mouth.

It was long after it had fallen upon the lids of Sir Christopher, that sleep visited the eyes of Arundel; but tired nature at last yielded to the solicitations of the drowsy influence, and he forgot both his joys and his sorrows.

When he awoke, the daylight was streaming into his retreat, and, sitting up on the hemlock boughs, he looked around. The couch of Sir Christopher was deserted, and no Indian visible. Wondering what had become of them, he rose and walked to the entrance, and beheld standing on the margin of the brook, the Knight in conversation with the savage, who, the night before, appeared to be the leader of the party. They were so interested with their subject as not to notice his presence, and he had an opportunity to observe their bearing to one another. To judge from that, the Knight looked to Arundel more like a conqueror than a captive, and rather giving than receiving orders. The attitude of Sir Christopher was commanding, and he engrossed the principal part of the conversation. From the frequency with which it was repeated, Arundel, as he fancied, could make out one word, which sounded like "Mesandowit," but its meaning he was unable to divine. He stood looking at them until the Indian discovered him, who, ejaculating the word "ahque," (beware) the Knight turned and also saw him.

"Thy appearance dispenses with the necessity of asking how thou hast passed the night, Master Arundel," cried Sir Christopher. "Well, there is nothing like a trust in Providence, whereto I commend thee, to inspire with courage. Courage may, in a certain sense, be said to be piety."

"Truly, Sir Christopher," said Arundel, catching confidence from the cheerful tone of the Knight, "I begin to regard thee as a sort of Providence, for wherever you move, you seem to exercise a command. Now would I give something to know the secret whereby you have tamed yon savage."

"It is no astonishing mystery. I did but elucidate to him clearly our sacred character and thy mistake in firing."

"Is he content with the explanation?"

"He seems to be. The natives are not so unreasonable as is sometimes represented. Difficulties between men do often arise from an ignorance of each others intentions; and one grand cause of contention is, doubtless, an inability to comprehend their diverse languages. Now, I suffer under no such disability. I can impart my ideas, and receive their own in return, and thus is language a bridge of reconciliation betwixt us. Believe me—a common cord vibrates through the hearts and minds of all men, and skilful words are the fingers wherewith to touch it."

"Thou art a skilful musician in more than one sense," said Arundel, as he turned to the brook to wash his hands and face.

No very strict, certainly not obtrusive surveillance, was exercised by the Taranteens over their captives. They were allowed to move about where they pleased, and their escort began to assume the appearance of a guard of honor, rather than a band of suspicious enemies; nor did the savages seem at all disposed to hurry, or take any measures to prevent a surprise, feeling, probably, a consciousness of security in being on their own hunting grounds. Their breakfast, of which the two white men partook with them, was leisurely prepared, and eaten with equal deliberation, and the sun was high when they resumed their journey. All these circumstances were noticed by Arundel, and tended to increase his confidence. However, he made no remark respecting them.

But when, soon after the commencement of their march, their guns were returned, he could not forbear from uttering his surprise.

"They know not how to use the weapon," replied Sir Christopher, "and it suits them not to carry loads not their own. Besides, I have pledged our honors that the pieces shall not be used against them. Methinks, moreover, were we inclined to play false, it were fruitless, in view of their superior number."

Nothing of importance occurred during the couple of days longer their journey lasted, and before it was completed, both the prisoners lost all apprehension of violence. They were even permitted to shoot the game which was started, and the Indians manifested no little pleasure when the shots proved successful. They watched closely the loading of the pieces and priming, and the manner in which the lock trigger was raised, and sometimes took the guns into their own hands, and brought them up to the shoulder, as they had seen the white men do, as if desirous to be taught their use. Something also, in reference to the subject, they said to the Knight, but he shook his head, and showed no disposition to instruct them. An unlucky experiment made with the piece of Sir Christopher, by one of the Taranteens, at length put an end to their importunities.

The Indian took the gun, after he had seen it loaded by Sir Christopher, and imitating his actions, discharged it at a bird sitting on a bough, at no great distance.

He had failed to remark that the Knight placed the piece firmly against his shoulder when it was fired, and ignorant of the propriety of doing so, held it with a natural feeling of timidity at a little distance from his body. The consequence was, that the recoil prostrated the savage on his back, and the gun dropped from his hands, while the fortunate bird seemed to deride the unskilful marksman, and to challenge him to another trial, by paying no other heed than hopping on another bough. His companions gathered round the fallen savage, and two or three took hold of the white men, as if to prevent escape; but when they saw no wound upon his person, nor expression of pain in his face, (for the pride of the unfortunate warrior forbade the betrayal of what he felt,) their words of sympathy and intentions of revenge were converted into jeers and laughter. As for the unlucky fellow himself, on rising from the ground, he retreated a little way from the gun, and regarding it with a look, wherein awe and aversion were combined, took care not to approach nigh to it again.

On the evening of the seventh day after their departure, they approached the village of the Taranteens. The whole company halted at a little distance from it, and the returning Indians shouted a peculiar cry, after which they proceeded more leisurely on their way. The yell had been heard and understood, for soon were seen advancing, groups of men, women, and children. These, upon joining their friends, manifested none of that stolid indifference, which it has been the pleasure of certain writers to ascribe to the natives, forgetting that by nature the same feelings animate the hearts of all men, whatever may be the degree of their civilization, or the color of their skin. On the contrary, there were smiling faces and tones of welcome, and other demonstrations, that proved the existence of affection. The squaws and children looked askance at the strangers, but their glances were rather timid than obtrusive, and augured no unfavorable prepossessions. Accompanied by a constantly increasing number, our friends were conducted to a lodge in the centre of the village, which they were told they would occupy during their stay. It was carefully covered with bark, and, as usual, skins were hanging on the sides, and lying on the ground for couches, and there were some cooking utensils, made of clay, on one side. Such were all the articles constituting the simple ménage of the child of nature, and completed his idea of necessary furniture. Here the strangers were left by their guides, though several of the tribe remained lingering around the wigwam.

"Thus far," said the Knight, stretching himself out on a skin, for in whatever circumstances he might be placed, he was always at his ease, "hath heaven breathed favoring airs into our sails. We will accept the omen and be hopeful for the future."

"No more skilful ambassador, it seems to me," said Arundel, "ever mediated betwixt mighty governments than thyself, Sir Christopher. Why, Ephraim Pike was right, and I did injustice to his hang-dog look when I distrusted him."

"What said he?" inquired the Knight.

"That our journey would be a mere pleasure flight, unattended with danger."

"He would have found it different had he undertaken it," muttered Sir Christopher. "And was it Ephraim who advised thee to associate thyself with me?"

"He did not presume to advise. I scarcely know how it happened, but as I accidentally met the man, the conversation turned upon thy enterprise, of the dangers whereof he made light."

"There is some mystery," said the Knight, "connected with this. Be sure the obscure varlet would not have sought thee out for such a purpose of his own motion, but was instigated thereto by another."

"Who could that be, and with what motive?"

"Nay, I judge no man; but, perhaps, it so happened that they who intended harm conferred a favor."

At this moment they saw approaching through the opening in the lodge a couple of squaws, bearing in their hands earthen pots, from which a warm steam was issuing. These they brought straight into the wigwam, and, placing them before the white men, invited them to eat. After a few words from the Knight, which the smiling faces of the women showed were well received, they retired, and the two friends addressed themselves to a business seldom disagreeable, and specially pleasant to them. In the one vessel they found pieces of broiled venison, and in the other a composition at that time peculiar to the Indians, but which has since become a favorite in New England, and still retains its Indian name of "succotash." It is a dish consisting of sweet corn and beans boiled together, and savored with some kind of meat, according to the taste. The meat preferred by the vitiated taste of the whites is pork; but inasmuch as swine were unknown at the time in the country, except in the civilized settlements—the unclean animal having been introduced by the Europeans—its place in the present instance was supplied by the more wholesome bear's meat, for such the experienced palate of the Knight pronounced it to be. At the completion of the meal, although it was early according to our habits, the unbroken silence that reigned around indicated that the Indians had retired to rest, and the two weary travelers, imitating their example, threw themselves on their couches.

Some hours had passed since they laid themselves down to sleep, when the Knight arose, and, after glancing at his companion, started, with a light and noiseless step, to leave the wigwam. At the opening he found a Taranteen, whom his stirring had wakened. With him the Knight exchanged some whispered words, and then took his way in the moonlight toward a lodge situated near the centre of the village, and conspicuous for its size. He met no interruption, and having arrived at the entrance, drew aside the skin which served for a door. The first object which caught his eye was a flame proceeding from some pieces of a resinous wood, which were supported by a sort of iron trestle standing on a rude table in the centre, and sending up spirals of smoke to escape by an aperture above. By means of the light which this cast, he was enabled to take a view of the apartment.

It was of an oblong shape, some forty feet long by twenty wide, and coming to a line at the top, and at first seemed destitute of furniture and of occupants. As the Knight stood hesitating, a voice from the remotest part of the wigwam addressed him.

"Welcome!" it said, in French, "true son of the Church! valiant soldier of the Cross! servant of Heaven! My soul hath been in travail to see thee; and now, laus Deo, its desire is gratified."

The Knight advanced in the direction whence the voice proceeded, and when he had passed on so far that his back was to the light, could see the speaker. He was one who, whatever were the mistakes of his creed, seems to have been animated by a purpose lofty to himself, and an ardent faith in its truth, and, therefore, honor be to his memory, as well as to all other brave spirits, who, like him, (though erring,) forget themselves for others. But he is worthy of description.

He was a man of about sixty years of age, somewhat under the middle size, but strongly made, and evidently capable of enduring great fatigue. His eyes were black and piercing, his complexion so dark as to be almost olive, and his features regular, the mouth being small and sharply chiseled and compressed. Thick, long, white hair covered his whole head, with the exception of a small round spot on the crown which was bare, revealing the mark of the priest, and fell upon his shoulders. He was habited in a long, closely-fitting robe of some coarse material, which had once been black, but was now faded and tarnished by time and exposure, and a hempen rope to keep it in place was girded about his loins. Such, as we have described him, was the famous Father Le Vieux, one of the most active and devoted among the French Jesuits in America.

Father Le Vieux had risen from his seat, and was advancing toward his visiter, when the latter first beheld him. As the two men drew nigh, the Knight sunk on his knees at the feet of the priest.

"Salve fili mi!" said the father, laying his hands on the head of the kneeling Sir Christopher. "Beatus qui venit in nomine Domini. Arise, my son!" he continued, in French, taking the Knight by the hand, and assisting him. "Thy companion, I trust, sleeps soundly."

"He is asleep, reverend father," answered the Knight, in the same language, "like one who has made a covenant with his eyes not to open them before morning."

"May the blessed angels press their palms thereupon, that he awaken not. Now, then, disclose to me what, for our mutual purpose, it is meet that I should know."

With these words, he led the way into that part of the lodge whence he came, and was followed by Sir Christopher, who sat down by his side on a sort of bench.

"First, reverend father," said Sir Christopher, "would I confess my sins and obtain absolution. It is long since my bosom's stains were wiped out by authority of Holy Church, and my soul languishes for forgiveness."

"Kneel, then, and on peril of thy salvation keep nothing back."

Sir Christopher, with bowed head, knelt by his side, and, in low-murmured tones, while the priest bowed down to him his ear, made his confession. It lasted some considerable time, for which reason the good father betrayed a little impatience, either because he thought that the sins were too trivial to be dwelt upon so long, or because he was anxious to hear the communication of his penitent on other matters. At its conclusion, he placed his hand on the Knight's head, and said:

"The sins which, with a penitent heart and lively faith, thou hast confessed, not having wilfully concealed anything, and determined by God's grace to commit them no more, do I, a servant of Holy Church, commissioned for that purpose by the successor of blessed St. Peter, whose are the sacred keys, and unto whom and his fellow-servants it was promised by the Head of the Church, 'whatsoever ye bind on earth shall be bound in Heaven, and whatsoever ye loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven,' absolve thee from, and unbind and remit unto thee, both in time and in eternity, in nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Rise and sin no more. And now, make thy report."

The Knight rose from his knees and resumed his seat, whereupon ensued a long conversation.

It referred to the condition of the colony under Winthrop, and of the elder settlement at Plymouth; the prospect of their increase; the dissensions among them; the relations maintained with the savages, and influence exerted over them; and, in short, to whatever bore upon the present circumstances and probable destiny of the two races. The occurrences at the reception of the Taranteen embassy were also detailed—the appearance of Sassacus, the excitement of the Indians, and the consequences which followed.

"I found it hard," said Sir Christopher, "to allay their wild passion on the discovery of the Pequot Chief. I had to urge upon them that they were committed to my care by you (I had before received your missive from one of them) and that instant destruction would follow any act of violence. I reminded them that their mission was one of peace, and endeavored to shame them for exhibiting so much feeling at the sight of a single warrior. Nor was I blinded by their apparent submission, but strove to remove the Pequot out of their way. With how little success you know."

Father Le Vieux listened with profound attention, and from time to time made memoranda in his tablets of those parts of the communication which possessed for him the deepest interest. At its conclusion, he continued silent awhile, looking thoughtfully on the ground, as if deliberating over what he had heard.

"The thoughts of man are vanity," he said, at length. "In a way that we dreamed not of hath Almighty Wisdom delivered us from this peril. Vainly, in our ignorance, we strove to prevent a meeting between the Taranteens and the English heretics; and lo, it was the very thing to be desired! They were brought together only to be more widely divided, and a commencing friendship has ended in a confirmed enmity. Blessed be the Pequot, and mitigated be the pains of purgatory to the poor savages who fell in the night attack, for the good they have done. We are now safe from this danger."

The father paused, as if reflecting, and then again spoke.

"It would be strange," he said, "and the thought itself seems impious, if this goodly land, with its thousands of immortal souls, should be delivered over into the hands of these accursed heretics. My heart is troubled, and a sacred horror invades me when I think thereupon. This is a time of tribulation, and our faces gather blackness. Holy Mary!" he continued, (crossing himself and raising his eyes to Heaven,) "intercede with thy glorified Son to quicken our faith and shorten the days of our trouble. Let not these insatiable locusts from the pit of darkness, whose end is destruction—these deceivers and deceived, who would tear down thy church, and defile her altars, have, even in seeming, their will! O, let a strong wind arise and cast them into the sea, that they may devour thy heritage no more!"

"Amen, and Amen!" responded the sweet voice of Sir Christopher. "So may all the enemies of the church perish! But O, holy father, sad is it to see so much heroism in men, so much resigned fortitude in delicate women, such wonderful courage, such patience wasted, in promoting error."

"Quam diu Domine!" exclaimed the father. "The days of man are but as a shadow and a tale that is told. He cometh out of darkness, and returneth thither again. But thy years, O Lord, are everlasting, and thy counsels like the great deep. O, stamp this truth on our hearts, and it shall cure our impatience. How long Divine Wisdom shall permit the raging waves of this pestilential heresy of the arch-deceiver, the licentious Luther, to beat against His church, threatening as with the jaws of hell to devour her, it is not for man to know; but we do know that they cannot prevail, for she is founded on a rock, and bought with a great ransom, and the Word of God is pledged to her triumph. But it becomes every true son of Holy Church to have his loins girded, and to let no weakness of the flesh or fainting of the spirit interfere, to delay that hoped-for time when this miserable delusion shall disappear. Verily, heavy is the task imposed on feeble shoulders; but in the strength of One who can supply strength, will we prevail."

"Has any information," inquired Sir Christopher, "been received respecting the new colony to be planted under Lord Baltimore, in Maryland, or promise of assistance from our friends at home?"

"The English Catholics," answered Father Le Vieux, "are lukewarm. The air of their foggy isle is tainted. Not much do I expect from this Cecil, Lord Baltimore. He is, forsooth, a philosopher—a man who stands half the time upon his head—for he is one of them who are puffed up with conceit of worldly knowledge, and who, in contradiction of Holy Scripture, assert, with Galileo Galilei, that this world is a ball which daily turns round. His company has not arrived, and never may arrive. Not on the timorous and doubting English Catholics, but on my own brave countrymen and the faithful Spaniards, must we rely for the accomplishment of the heaven-inspired thought of our great founder, the immortal Loyola."

"Expect you," inquired Sir Christopher, "to convert these English colonies into dependencies of France or Spain?"

"To you and to me, and every true Catholic, it is of little consequence whether they be French, or Spanish, or English colonies, so they be gathered into the bosom of Mother Church. Of how little moment are the transitory things of time, our poor distinctions of nationalities, our weak prejudices, our loves and hates, in comparison with eternity and its determinations. Then, in that other world, there will be neither French, nor English, nor Spanish, but 'the blessed of the Father,' to enter the kingdom prepared for them; or howling heretics, whose doom is fire unquenchable."

"Holy Father," said the Knight, "I pray you to forgive me; but, in my ignorance, I by no means approve of your design, nor have I confidence in its success. Consider the consequence, should even a suspicion of it be entertained by the Government of England. These colonies are now regarded as only nests of wild sectaries, who have fled from restraint at home to indulge fanatical imaginations in a wilderness. At present, they are neglected and despised by the general, none, save those of their own infatuated faith, thinking of, or countenancing them; but, let it be once surmised that France or Spain is attempting, either by fraud or violence, to set foot among them, and you will see the whole force of the kingdom in arms to counteract your plot, and thousands of heretic emigrants will arrive, where now only a few make their appearance."

"My son, it is easier to crush error in the egg than in the full-grown serpent. But forget you not that you are only a secular coadjutor, and therefore bound simply to obey?"

"Peccavi," said the Knight, bending his head.

"Absolvo. I espied this weakness in the confession of sins, and now solemnly warn thee against it. Attend, my son, and be my words remembered. I perceive in thee a jealousy of the political power of other nations, when they conflict with thine own. This, to the untutored mind of the vulgar, seems commendable, yet do I reprehend it, and say unto it, 'Apage, Sathanas!' as the fruitfull seed of discord betwixt nations, and an impediment in the march of the Church. As high as the concerns of Heaven transcend those of earth, do the interests of the true and universal Church those of the petty kingdoms which, for their own good, she subjects to her control. They are not to be thought of when her magnificent voice is heard. Who is it speaks from the chair of St. Peter, but the Vicegerent of God? Who is Vitalleschi, our chief, but another accredited instrument to accomplish the salvation of the nations? And if it be the duty of every Catholic to set the welfare of the Church before all other considerations, and to die a thousand deaths before abandoning it, how much more is it the life-business of each member of the Society of Jesus to sacrifice all things for her! Power, wealth, fame, life, and honor, which some value more than life, what are they all when weighed against that one duty and the reward that awaits its observance? The principles of the blessed Company of Jesus are not the crude fancies of some crazy heretic, nor suggestions of man's unguided reason, but they are conclusions of wise men inspired by the Holy Spirit, and infallibly directed to truth! Such thou and I have acknowledged them to be by becoming members of the Order, and thereby assuming its obligations. My faith burns daily brighter—each obstacle but inflames my zeal. If, by my martyrdom, I could advance our cause one hour, how gladly would I lay down a life worthless, if not spent in the service of the Church."

Father Le Vieux paused, his fine face beaming with enthusiasm, while the Knight bent again his head, and, kissing the priest's hand, murmured "Peccavi."

"Thy faithfulness I commend," resumed the father, "but as thy spiritual guide, I warn thee against human weakness. It is a mighty discourager of great undertakings. Only by faith and remembrance of what thou art vowed to, can it be overcome. Nor doubt, though thou dost not clearly understand, and but little progress seems to be made. Remember that though we must soon depart, the Society of Jesus remains. Our Order may be as the drops of water perpetually falling on a rock, which are dashed into fragments by the fall; yet is the fate of the repelling body inevitable, and, after centuries, it is doomed to be washed away."

"Reverend Father," said the Knight, "I will bury thy words, in my mind, and often meditate upon them."

"Do so, my son, and by the aid of Holy Mary, and the Saints, and blessed Evangelists, doubt not they will profit. But I charge thee to beware of laic reason and human impulses. Refer all things to the standard whereby thou hast been taught, for so only will it be well. Farewell; morning approaches, and I depart, for I would not have the presence of a white man suspected by thy companion. I will communicate further with thee as opportunity presents, and, meanwhile, I will consider how thy mission may be made to redound most to the honor of the Church. If, by restraining the ferocity of the Taranteens, the end may be accomplished, gladly will I exert my influence therefor; but, on the contrary, if I see that a union among the tribes can be effected, whereby these intrusive Philistines can be driven from the land, I will put myself at the head of our savage friends, and Winthrop and his unhappy followers shall be doomed."

He ceased, and bowed, and the Knight reverently bending his body, took leave.

CHAPTER XXI.