Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1104 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

en es ee — -—----_—_-— ~~ country, could be seen an enterprising settler’s cabin, resembling in the distance a tiny beehive. **'You h the landsc en’t told me how you are pleased with ,’’ said the hunter. “Ah, Haldtige, you know better than to ask that question, ” replied Haverland, in a shaking voice. “ Thank God that He has been so merciful to us!” | They now commenced descending the hill. Not a | | word was exchanged between them, for their hearts fl were too full for utterance. A strange spell seemed to have come over Seth Jones. At sight of the vil- lage, he had suddenly become thoughtful and silent, refusing even to answer a question. His head was bent down. Evidently his mind was engrossed upon some all-absorbing subject. Several times he sighed deeply, and pressed nis hand to his heart, as though the tumultuous throbbing there pained him. The ex- pression of his face was wonderfully changed, That quizzing, comical look was entirely gone, while wrinkles at the eyebrows and base of the nose could be seen no more. His face appeared to be positively | h@ndsome. It was a wonderful metamorphosis, and the question passed around unexpressed: ‘Is that Seth Jones?” All at once, he seemed to become sensible that the eyes of others were upon him, and that he had for- otten himself. That old, peculiar expression came k to his face, and a few steps of the old strad- ? dling ers were taken, and Seth Jones was himself ain The sentinels in the block-house had discovered and recognized the fugitives, and when they ar- rived at the palisade which surrounded the village, there were numbers waiting to receive them. ‘“*‘T will see youall again!” said Haldidge, separat- ing from the others and passing toward the upper | end of the settlement. “ After pausing a few moments to answer the in- * quiries of their friends, Haverland led the way to- ward the cabin where he had left his wife and sister. Here he found the good settlers had erected and pre- sented him with a house. As he sg softly to the r~ door, intending to give his wife a p veal surprise, she m e sprung for- | him. With a low ory of Joy, s wail and was held in his arms, and the next instant | she and Ina were clasped a and weeping. | ‘Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Oh, my dear, | dear child, I thought you lost forever.”’ Graham and Seth stood respectfully to one side for a few moments. The latter cleared his throat seve- ral times and brushed his arm across his forehead in a suspicious manner, As the mother regained her- | elf, she turned and recognized Graham, and greeted | him warmly. . | “ And you, too,” she said, taking Seth’s hand, and Soe ng. UD into his face, ‘have been more than a friend me, May Heaven reward you, for we never can,”’ “There! by gracious! don’t say no more! boohoo! | me ot I believe I’ve caught a cold, being so exposed to the night air!’ But it was no use; the tears would come; and Seth, for a few seconds, wept like a baby, yet smiled even through his tears. They all entered the house. ‘* Our first duty is to thank God for his mercy. Let us all do it,” said the woman. All sunk devoutly upon their knees, joining in fer- vent thanksgiving to the great Being who had shown his peronees to them in such a marvelous manner. The settlers, with true oe wae of heart, forbore to intrude until they judged the family were desir- ous of seeing them. After they had arisen from their knees, Mary, the sister of Haverland, entered. . Graham chanced to glance at Seth, that moment, \ and was startled at the emotion he exhibited. He flushed scarlet, and trembled painfully, but, by a strong effort, recovered himself in time to at her. She tanked him again, and began conversing, when | she saw that he was embarrassed and ill at ease. A flash of suspicion crossed her fine, calm face, and it became pale and flushed by turns. What a riot emotion was making in her heart only she herself knew; her face soon became passive and pensive; and a pathos gleamed from her sad eyes which sent Seth quickly out of doors to commune with the mys: teries of hisown thoughts. | The cabin was crowded until near midnight with congratulating friends. Prominent among these, was the man who officiated in the capacity of minis- ter for the settlement. He was a portly, genial good-natured man, of the Methodist persuasion, and a preacher for the times—one who could plow, reap, ‘e chop wood, and lead the settlers against their foes, when he deemed it necessary, or preach and prac- tice the gospel before them. x 4 + Ce andetal Ne 2 It was a glad—a Happy reunion— a night that was » % jong remembered. me i Just one week after the reunion the little party | was seated in Haverland’s home, composed of Ina, Seth Jones, the woodman, Mrs, Haverland and Mary. Seth sat in one corner, conversing with Ina, while the other three were also together. There was a te; happy look upon each face. Even the sweet, mel- Ao ancholy beauty of Mary was lighted up by a smile. Ber tale She was beautiful—queenly so. .Her hair, black as ole fs ae JT an | ae night, was gathered behind,ws if to restrain its 3 tendency to curl; but, in spite of this, a refractory eS one was constantly intru itself. A faint color 2s was visible in her cheeks, and her blue eye had in it something of a gleam of the common joy and peace. Seth had remained most of the time with the woodman. Several times he had asked Mary Haver- 5 jJand to walk with him, and yet upon each occasion, = when about to start, he became p ly nervous, ee and ed to be excused. And then his language reat erent at times. Often he would converse ci with words so polished and well-chosen, as to show <i unmistakably that he was a scholar. Perhaps the a reader has noticed this discrepancy in his conversa- was 80 7 . “< seth Jones. — _- —- -——-—— - - —— - ee ee ee ee ee se ee tion. It attracted attention, and strengthened many in their belief that for some unknown reason he was playing a part. At the present time there was a nervousness in his manner; and, although he was holding a playful ' conversation with Ina, his eyes were constantly wandering to the face of Mary Haverland. ‘And so you and Graham are going to be mar- ried to-morrow night?’ he asked. ‘* You know, Seth, that we are. How many times | are * going to ask me?’’#" “eT o you love him?” he asked, looking her steadily in the face. ‘* What a question! I have always loved him, and always will.” “That’s right; then marry him, for if man ever loved woman, he loves you. And, Alf, while I think of it,’ he spoke in a louder tone, ‘“* what has that big, red-haired fellow been hanging around here so much for the last day or two?” ‘You will have to ask Mary,” laughed the wood- man. ‘‘Oh, I understand, there'll be two weddings to- morrow night, eh? That's so, Mary?” ‘Not that I know of; I have no expectation of becoming a wife for any one.,”’ ‘*Hain't, eh? Why, the man seems to love you. eae don’t you marry him?” ‘‘T am afraid Mary will never marry,’’ Said Haver- land. “She has rejected all offers, though many were from very desirable men.” ‘*Queer! I never heard of such a case.”’ ‘Her love was buried long ago,’’ replied Haver- land, in a lower tone, to Seth. ‘After a moment’s silence, Seth arose, took his chair, and seated himself beside her. She did not look at him, nor did any oneelse. He sat a moment; then whispered: ** Mary?” ig FT She started. Her eyes flashed like meteors in his face a moment; then she turned as pale as death, and would have fallen from her chair, had not Seth caught her in his arms. Haverland looked up in amazement; the whole family were riveted in won- der. Seth looked up from the face of the fainting woman, and smiled as he said: ‘* She is mine forever!” ‘* Merciful Heaven! Eugene Morton!’ exclaimed Haverland, starting to his feet. ‘*Tt is so!’’ said the one addressed. ‘* Have you risen from the dead?”’ ‘‘T have risen to life, Alf, but have never been with the dead.”’ Instead of the weak, squeaking tone which had heretofore characterized his speech, was now a rich, mellow base, whose tones startled Mary into life again. She raised her head, but he who held her would not permit her to rise. He pressed her fer- vently to his bosom. The ecstasy of that moment, only the angels in Heaven could fathom. aldidge and Graham entered, and the man in his true character, arose to his feet-—a tall, dignified, graceful, imposing person. ‘‘ Where is Seth?’ asked Graham, not noticing the apparent stranger. “Here is what you have heretofore supposed to be that individual, laughed the person, before him, en- joying reatly their astonishment, ‘Seth, truly, but not Seth, either,’’ exclaimed they both, with astonishment written on their faces. ‘With a few words,”’ he commenced, “all will be plain to you. I need not tell you, dear friends, that my character, since my advent among you, has been an assumed one. Seth Jones is a myth, and to my knowledge, no such person ever existed. My reel name is Eugene Morton. Ten years ago, Mary Haverland and I pledged our love to each other. We were to be married in one year; but, when a few months of that time had elapsed, the Revolution- any War broke out, and a call was made upon our little village, in New Hampshire, for volunteers. I had no desire nor right to refuse. Our little com- pany proceeded to Massachusetts, where the war was then raging. In a skirmish, a few days after the battle of Bunker Hill, I was dangerously wound- ed, and was left with a farmer by the wayside. I sent word re one of my comrades to Mary, that I was disabled, but hoped to see her in a short time. The bearer of that message was probably killed, for it is certain my words never reached her, though a very different report did. We hada man in our Dey who was a lover of Mary’s« Know- ing of my misfortune, he sent her word that I was killed. When I rejoined my company, a few months after, I learned that this man had deserted. A suspicion that he had returned home ape me to obtain leave of absence to visit my native place, I there learned that Haverland, with his wife and sister, had left the village for the West. One of my friends informed me that this deserter had gone with them, and, it was understood, would marry 8 I could not doubt the truth of this report, and, for a time, I feared I should commit cide. To soften this great sorrow, I returned at once, joined our COMDSDY and plunged into every battle that I ee could. I often pe ex- osed myself to danger, soliciting death rather than ife. In the winter of 1776 I found myself under Gen- eral Washington, at. Trenton; I had crossed the Delaware with him, and, by the time it was fairly det we were engaged in a desperate fight with the essians. In the very heat of the battle, the thought suddenly came to me that the story of Mary’s mar- riage was untrue, Singularly enough, when the bat- tle was over, I did not think any more of it. But in the midst of the following engagement, at Prince- ton, the same thought came to me again, and haunt- ed me from that time until the close of the war. I de- termined to seek out Mary. All that I could learn was that Haverland had emigated ‘out this way. - x * bd 7 7 - « J < . ie 4 -— * a a . * ‘ ve 2 o _ + = * oe e « ~ —_, : ™ “ tn, 2 = ei 5 aa ae ae .—" Bj : _ — —! ——- ah ee az PRE? at = a 3 ss 8 aS tec oe ite < * - —- pe _& -~ - ue 4 “s ~ ~ = * - has . a = . % “4 - - 4 ho = . ~-y Oe a re +e a ee ee —_— — ene Oe eee If she tad married the deserter, I knew it was under a firm belief that I was dead. Consequent- ly, I had no right to pain her by my presence- For this reason, I assumed a disguise. I discol- ored my now long-untamed hair. It so changed my whole appearance that I hardly knew myseli. War had changed my youthful color into bronze, and sorrow had wrought its changes. It was not strange, then, that any old friend should not know me, particularly when I could so suscneney per: sonate the ‘Green Mountain Boy,’ in voice and mar ner. My identity was perfectly secure, I knew, from detection. I came to this section, and, after a long and persevering hunt, one day I found Haverland cutting in the wood. Lintroduced myself to him as Seth Jones. I found Mary. The report which had reached me of ‘her marriage was false; she was still true to her first love. I should have made myself known then, had not the danger which threatened Haverland come upon him almost immediately, As his family were then tormented by the fate of Ina, I thought my recognition would only serve to embar- rass and distract their actions. Besides, I felt some amusement in the part I was playing, and often en- joyed the speculation I created by giving you, as it were, a glimpse now and then into my real nature. I varied my actions and language on purpose to in- cfease your wonder.” He here paused and smiled, as if at the recollection of his numerous ludicrous escapades. He continued: ‘‘I have little more to add, I congratulate hee Graham, on the prize you have won. You are to be married to-morrow night. Mary, will you not marry me at the same time?” ‘*Yes,’’ replied the radiant woman, placing her hands in his. ‘‘ You have my hand now, as you've had my heart through all these long, sorrowing years.’ Morton kissed her forehead tenderly. ; * Now congratulate me,’’ said he, with a beaming ace, And they gathered around him, and such shaking of hands, and such greetings, we venture to say, were never seen before. Our friends experienced some difficulty at first in believing that Seth Jones was gone forever. They even felt some regrets that his pleasing, eccentric face had passed away; but they had gained in his place a handsome, noble- hearted man, of whom they were all proud, The next day was een in preparations for the great double wedding that was to take place that évening. Messengers were sent up and down the river, and back into the woods; there was not a set- tler within twenty miles who had not been invited. At nightfall the Sompane began to collect. Some came in boats, some on horseback, and others on foot. A double wedding rarely took place in the backwoods, and this occasion was too full of romance to be slighted by any, old or young. When the lights were produced in the woodman’s house there was a motley assemblage without and within. You could have heard old and middle-aged men talking about the prospect of the crops, and looking up to the sky and wisely predicting the probabilities of a change in the weather, or discus- sing. in anxious tones, the state of feeling among the Indians along the frontier; you could have heard—as they would be termed nowadays—‘‘ gawky”’ young men as sagely discoursing upon the same subjects, venturing a playful thrust, now and then, at one of their number about some ‘“Alminy,” or ‘Sera, pheemy,”’ sweetheart, The woodman’s house had been much enlarged fox the occasion. A long shed, amply sufficient to con- tain all the guests, was built alongside and connect- ing with it. After participating in a bountiful meal in ee the tables were removed, and preparation | made for the marriage. A sudden hush fell upon the assemblage. All eyes turned toward the door, through which Eugene Mor- ton and Edward Graham, each with his affianced leaning Ppon his arm, entered, ‘** Ain't they purty?” ‘Don’t they look bootiful?”’ k Golly! if they ain’t some, then there’s no use in talking. Such and similar were the whispered remarks of admiration at the couple. Mary Haverland was dressed in a plain, light-colored dress without any ornament, except a single white rose. in her hair, which now fell in dark masses over her shoulders. Her beauty was of the true regal type. She was very happy, yet seemed as if in a world o f her own. orton was clad in gray homespun, which well be- came his graceful form, His whole appearance was that of the gentleman which he was—a brave soldier, a true-hearted man. Ina, the sweet young heroine, was fascinating. Her dress was of the purest white. Her curls clus- tered around her shoulders, and were confined at the temples by a simple wreath of blue violets. There was a contrast between Ina and Mary, and yet it would have been a difficult task to have judged which was the most beautiful—the pure, queenly, trusting woman, or the purity and innocence of the young maiden. Graham was a worthy participant ee Bat drama and pleased all by his goodness and ntelligence, In a few’ moments, a portly gentleman, with a white neckcloth, and all aglow with smiles, entered the room, Morton and Mary arose and stood before him, and amid the most perfect silence the ceremo- ny commenced. The questions were put and an- swered in a firm voice, audible to every one in the room. ‘What God hath joined together let not man put asunder. ”’ And every voice said '‘Amen!”’ as they reseated ee aaidy ne ho had stood msman to Morton , who as r now signaled with a quiet amile, for Graham to tase 3 cbooks.com ~