"It is a dreadful history," said Lambert, "and I would rather not rehearse it; but you will think otherwise of my aunt when you meet her, and so let it be.
"It is now thirteen years--it was in 'forty-four and I was nineteen--when war broke out between the English and the French, which they call King George's war. Neither the English nor the French could raise many men, so they had to rely on the Indians, each party trying by every means to win them to itself and set them against the opposite party. Now, the English had a treaty of a long standing with the Six Nations; but at this time they also began to waver and to unite with the French, who knew better how to flatter them. So many fell away, and entered into secret or open partnership with our foes. The uncertainty daily increased. Nobody had any assurance of his life. The Germans here on the Mohawk, and especially on the creek, had hitherto escaped; but the danger came nearer and nearer to us, and then it was that we went to our work with a rifle on the shoulder, and when father, with the help of a couple of blacks from Virginia--secured for the occasion--strengthened the block-house as it is now. Before, it was more open.
"Nicolas Herkimer settled on the Mohawk, and several others followed his example. Most of them, however, took the matter more lightly, and said the French or Indians should only come on; they would soon show them the road, and send them home with bloody heads. About this they debated with Uncle Ditmar, and became angry at him since he was always full of courage and of bitter hatred of the French whom he had already learned to know on the other side, where they had burned his parents' house and driven them from their home. He thought that should we wait until the French came to us it would be altogether too late. It was a shame that now everybody should think only of himself. All should assemble here, and on the Mohawk, and on the Schoharie; that no one should stay at home who could fire off a rifle, and that some should go to meet the French, and pay them back, in their own territory, what before and since they have done to us. Perhaps the old man was right, but nobody listened to him. Then came the year 'forty-six, when the French with their Indians swept through the valley of the Mohawk as far as Schenectady and Albany, and destroyed and robbed what they found, and killed and scalped what came in their way, and committed every conceivable horror. My uncle could stand it no longer. He went out with his four sons--my cousins--of whom the eldest was twenty-six and the youngest nineteen. Aunt Ursul would not stay at home, but went along, with her rifle on her shoulder, just as you saw her awhile ago, and they carried on war by themselves and killed many French and Indians, until they were resting on a certain day among a small clump of trees on the open prairie and, not noticing, were overrun from all sides. There my aunt saw her sons fall, one after the other, while she was loading the guns. At last old Ditmar was struck by a stray bullet and sank at her feet apparently dead. Aunt Ursul fired off the gun she had loaded once more and laid a Frenchman low, seized it by the muzzle, and swinging the butt on high she rushed out and struck about her so, that the Indians themselves, at sight of such bravery, did not kill her, but overpowered her, and tied her, and took her along as prisoner. They likewise took uncle, who gave signs of life, when an Indian had already torn his scalp half off. Perhaps they intended to spare them for a later, more painful death. But it did not go as far as that, thank God! for the troop which was taking them along was attacked by another tribe, which held with the English, and they were killed to the last man. So my aunt, after a couple of months, came again, robbed of her stalwart sons, with her husband, whose mind has never since been quite right, and who has lived on for months and years without uttering a word, though attending to his work like anyone else."
Lambert ceased speaking. Catherine took his hand and, with gentle pressure, held it.
So they went, hand in hand, along the creek. Here and there a pair of summer-ducks came out of the reeds and flew, swift as an arrow, toward the woods. Fish sprang up in the crystal-clear water. The rushes waved. The flowers and grass on the prairie swayed in the tepid wind. The sun poured down its golden rays. But it seemed to both as if there had fallen a veil over the clear, spring morning.
"I wish I had not told you this--at least not today," said Lambert.
"And I thank you that you did so," said Catherine. "The happiness would be too great were our good fortune without a shadow. Did you not find me helpless, forsaken, poor as a beggar, pressed to the ground by care and grief, and did you not, without a moment's hesitation, stretch out your hand to pick me out of the dust? So I will hold it fast--your dear hand--and help you carry the cares and burdens of life, and with you go into the battle, if it must be, as good Aunt Ditmar did, whom may God bless for her bravery, and whose pardon I heartily beg for the injury I did her in my feelings. Now I can see why she who has suffered so dreadfully cannot, like other good people, heartily rejoice over the good fortune which comes to them before her eyes. Poor soul! She no longer believes in good fortune."
"Perhaps it is also something else," said Lambert thoughtfully, and after a short pause proceeded: "See, Catherine, I love you so dearly, and have kept still so long, that I would like to tell you about everything that passes through my mind. So I will also tell you this: I do not know, but I believe that my aunt would be better pleased were Conrad in my place. She has not forgotten that she carried the youngster, when a small and helpless creature, in her arms, and has always loved him as though she were his own mother. So Conrad has also hung to her; and, on account of the Ditmars, the difficulty arose between him and our father. Conrad wanted to go and live at Ditmar's, and father forbid it to the eleven-year-old youngster. The very Indian tribe to which Conrad fled had rescued the Ditmars. I believe he was himself present, though I do not know, since he has never said a word about it; nor has aunt, to whom he may have forbidden it. All this aunt has never forgotten."
"And shall not forget it," observed Catherine with animation. "See, Lambert, now that we have honorably acknowledged that we love one another, I am no longer so timid. We must now be equally honest toward the others. Your aunt knows it, you say, and she will adapt herself to the actual state of affairs. Conrad must also know it, and then he won't be angry at you any longer. It perhaps sounds a little bold, but if I am indeed pleasing to him, let me manage it, Lambert. I will tame the young bear for you."
Lambert shook his head, and had again to laugh as he now looked into the face of the beloved one, which beamed with happiness as before. "Yes, yes, who could withstand you? Who would not willingly do what you wish?"