His reverie lasted not long, indeed; but it was long enough. In about two minutes, he took his way up the stream again, still musing, towards the place where he had laid down his rod upon the bank. He heeded not much where he set his feet. Sometimes it was on the dry ground, by the side of the stream; sometimes it was in the gurgling waters, and amongst the glossy pebbles.
He paused, at length, where he had stood fishing a few minutes before, and looked up to the bank covered with green branches. He could see nothing there in the dim obscurity; but even the murmur of the waters and the sighing of the wind did not prevent him from hearing a sound--a gentle stirring of the boughs. He sprang up the bank, and in amongst the maples; and, about ten minutes after, the sun, rising higher, poured its light through the stems upon a boy and girl, seated at the foot of an old tree: he, with his arms around her, and his hand resting on the soft, brown, velvety skin, and she, with her head upon his bosom, and her warm lips within the reach of his. What, though a sparkling drop or two gemmed her sunny cheek, they were but the dew of the sweetest emotion that ever refreshes the summer morning of our youth.
Her skin was brown, I have said--yes, very brown--but, still, hardly browner than his own. Her eyes were dark and bright, of the true Indian hue, but larger and more open than is at all common in any of the tribes of Iroquois. Her lips, too, were as rosy and as pure of all tinge of brown, as those of any child of Europe; and her fingers, also, were stained of Aurora's own hue. But her long, silky, black hair would have spoken her race at once, had not each tress terminated in a wavy curl. The lines of the form and of the face were all wonderfully lovely too, and yet were hardly those which characterize so peculiarly the Indian nations. The nose was straighter, the cheek-bones less prominent, the head more beautifully set upon the shoulders. The expression, also, as she rested there, with her cheek leaning on his breast, was not that of the usual Indian countenance. It was softer, more tender, more impassioned; for, though romance and poetry have done all they could to spiritualize the character of Indian love, I fear, from what I have seen, and heard, and known, it is rarely what it has been portrayed. Her face, however, was full of love, and tenderness, and emotion; and the picture of the two, as they sat there, told, at once, the tale of love just spoken to a willing ear.
There let us leave them. It was a short hour of joy; a sweet dream in the dark, stormy night of life. They were happy, with the unalloyed happiness so seldom known even for an hour, without fear, or doubt, or guilt, or remorse; and so let them be. What matters it if a snake should glide through the grass hard by? it may pass on, and not sting them. What matters it if a cloud should hang over the distant horizon?--the wind may waft away the storm. Forethought is a curse or a blessing, as we use it. To guard against evils that we see is wise, to look forth for those we cannot guard against is folly.
[CHAPTER V.]
The hour of breakfast had arrived, when Walter Prevost returned with his river spoil; but the party at the house had not yet sat down to table. The guest who had arrived on the preceding night was standing at the door, talking with Edith, while Mr. Prevost himself was within, in conference with some of the slaves. Shaded by the little rustic porch, Edith was leaning against the doorpost in an attitude of exquisite grace; and the stranger, with his arms crossed upon his broad, manly chest, now raising his eyes to her face, now dropping them to the ground, seemed to watch with interest the effect his words produced, as it was written on that beautiful countenance. I have said with interest, rather than with admiration; for although it is hardly possible to suppose that the latter had no share in his sensations, yet it seemed, as far as outward manner could indicate inward thought, that he was reading a lesson from her looks, instead of gazing upon a beautiful picture. The glance, too, was so calm, and so soon withdrawn, that there could be nothing offensive in it--nothing that could even say to herself, "I am studying you," although a looker-on might so divine.
His words were gay and light indeed, and his whole manner very different from the day before. A cloud seemed to have passed away--a cloud rather of reflection than of care; and Walter, as he came up, and heard his cheerful tones, wondered at the change; for he knew not how speedily men accustomed to action and decision cast from them the burden of weighty thought, when the necessity for thought is past.
"I know not," said the stranger, speaking as the young man approached--"I know not how I should endure it myself for any length of time. The mere abstract beauty of nature would soon pall upon my taste, I fear, without occupation."
"But you would make occupation," answered Edith, earnestly; "you would find it. Occupation for the body is never wanting, where you have to improve, and cultivate, and ornament; and occupation for the mind flows in from a thousand gushing sources in God's universe--even were one deprived of books and music."
"Ay, but companionship, and social converse, and the interchange of thought with thought," said the stranger,--"where could one find those?" And he raised his eyes to her face.