Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 8 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

the country, could be seen an enterpri settler’s cabin, resembling in the distance a tiny ve. _ “You haven't told me how you are pleased with the landscape,”’ said the hunter. “Ah, Haldidge, ou know better than to ask that question,” repli Haverland, in a shaking voice. * Thank God that He has been so merciful to us!”’ They now commenced descending the hill. word was exchanged between them, for their hearts were too full for utterance. e spell seemed to have come over Seth Jones. At sight of the vil- lage, he had suddenly become thoughtful and silent, ehusing 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 his 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 hdadsome. It was a wonderful metamorphosis, and the question passed around unedpresead? “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 back to his face, and a few steps of the old strad- dling gait were taken, and Seth Jones was himself ain! he 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 toweceive them. ‘‘T will see you all 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 yong softly to the door, intending to give his wife a p ul surprise, she met him. ith a low cry of Joy, she sprung for- ward and was held in his arms, and the next instant she and Ina were ig ther 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 afew 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- self, she turned and recognized Graham, and greeted him warmly. ‘‘ And you, too,”’ she said, taking Seth’s hand, and looking up into his face, ‘have been more than a friend tome. May Heaven reward you, for we never can.”’ ‘There! by gracious! don’t of no more! boohoo! ahem! 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 isto thank God for his mercy. Let us all do it,’ said the woman. All sunk devoutly upon their knees, joining in fer- vent tliinksgiving to the great Being who had shown his goédness to them in such a marvelous manner. The settlers, with true politeness of heart, forbore to intrude until they judged the family were desir- ous of seei them. After they had arisen from their knees, y, 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 infully, but, by a strong effort, recovered himself in time to t her. She thanked 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 e 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 his own 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, chop wood, and lead the settlers against their foes, when he deemed it necessary, or preach and prac- tice the mospel before them. -.. os It was a glad—a happy reunion— a night that was long remembered, Just one week after the reunion the little pansy was seated in Havyerland’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 happy look u each face. Even the sweet, mel- ancholy beauty of Mary was lighted up by a smile. She was beautiful—queenly so. Her hair, black as night, was gathered behind, as if to tendency to curl; but, ins of a refractory one was constantly intruding itself, A faint color was visible in her cheeks, and her blue eye had in it something of a gleam of the common joy and. ; Seth had sitkained most of the ary. with ‘the woodman. Several times he had asked Haver- land to walk with him, and yet upon each occasion, when about to start, he became painfully nervous, and ed to be-excused, And then his language was so different at times. Often he would converse with words so polished and well-chosen, as to show unmistakably that he was a scholar. Perhaps the reader has noticed this discrepancy in his conversa- Not a | | | et conversation with battle. that I Seth Jones. 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 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 you going to ask me?”’ ‘**Do 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. Why 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: é Mary? b 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. ‘**It 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 muppowed to be that individual, laughed the person before him, en- joying greats their astonishment. ‘Seth, tru ne 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 real name is Eugene Morton. Ten years BGO, Mary Haverland and a our love to each other. We were to be married in one year; but, when a few months of that time had ela , the Revolution- ary 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 ree oe one of my comrades to Mary, that I was disabled, but ho to see her in a short time. The bearer -of that <n was probably killed, for it is certain my wo never reached her, though a very different report did. We had a man in our company who was a lover of Mary’s. Know- of my misfortune, he sent her word that I was ed. en I rejoined my company, a few months after, I learned that this man deserted. A suspicion that he had returned home impelled me to obtain leave of absence to visit my native place. I there learned that. Haverland, with his e 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 es 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, jomed our igo and plunged into every could 7 bly . I often purposely ex- a sed myself Epouetine dee rather than e, In the winter of 1776 I foun myself under Gen- eral Was n, at Trenton; I had crossed the Delaware with h ht, we were engaged nd fhe dane rate fight with the a e essians 3. In the very heat of the batt the thought suddenly came to me that the story of ’s mar- riage was untrue. ‘Singularly enough, when the bat- tle was over, I 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. 15 — ——s= i re eee ee If she had married the deserter, I knew it was under a firm belief that I was dead. Consequent- IY I had no right to pain her by my presence. or this reason, I assumed a disguise. I discol- ored my now long-untamed hair. It so changed my whole appearance that I hardly knew myself. ar had changed my youthful color into bronze, and sorrow wrought its ch It was not strange, then, that any old friend should not know me, ery when I could so successf per- sonate the ‘Green Mountain Boy,’ in voice and man- ner. My identity was mee: secure, I knew, from detection. I came to this section, and, after a lo and persevering hunt, one day I found Haverlan cutting in the wood. I introduced 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 meet ge , and often en- joyed the speculation I crea 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- crease 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 you, Graham, on the prize you have won. You are to be married to-morrow night. mes | 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 face. 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 away; but they had gained in his place a handsome, noble- hearted man, of whom they were all proud. The next day was spent in preparations for the great double wedding that was to take place that evening. 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 — the comm sng’ 4 began to collect. Some came 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 cee 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 predict the probabilities of a change in the weather, or discus- a anxious tones, the state of feeling among the Indians along the frontier; you could have h —as they would 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. e woodman’s house had been much e ed for 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 this,@he tables were removed, and preparation made for the marriage. A sudden hush fell upon the assemb . All Sm turned toward the door, through which Eugene Mor- ton and Edward Graham, each with his affianced leaning upon his arm, entered. ** Ain’t they wet ‘ ‘Don’t they look bootiful?”’ S Golly ! if they ain’t some, then there's no use in Such and similar were the whispered remarks of admiration at the couple. M 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 e. She was = happy, yet seemed as if in a world of her own. orton was clad in gray homespun, which well be- came his graceful form. His whole ap was that of the gentleman which he was—a brave soldier, a true-hea man, Ina, the sweet young heroine, was fascinating. Her dress was of the purest white. Her curls clus- tered around her sh 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 me drama and pleased all by his goodness and ce. In a few moments, a portl tleman, with a white neckeloth, 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.” 7 And every voice ‘said ‘“‘Amen!” as they reseated themselves. Haldidge, who had stood as froomeman to Morton, now signaled with a quiet smile, for Graham to take I00 COMING cs (E(O)