The young chief, or rather the restored youth, awoke in a few days from the delirium into which the fever had plunged him, to a state of convalescence and a consciousness of his altered condition. He now uttered with earnest tenderness the endearing terms of “sister” and “father,” when he addressed Mary and Roughgrove. He spoke freely of the many things he had witnessed while living with the Indians, expressing his abhorrence of their habits and nature, and declared it was his intention never to have any further intercourse with them. He promised, when he should be able to leave his bed, to read and study with Mary and Glenn, until he had made amends for the neglect of his education. These symptoms, and the tractable disposition accompanying them, caused Mary and Roughgrove to rejoice over the return of the long-lost youth, and to bow in humble thankfulness to the Disposer of events for the singular and providential circumstances attending his restoration.
Joe had arrived in due course of time, (which was brief,) after his almost miraculous escape from the savages and the flames, and told his story with various embellishments. The Indians were hunted the next day by Sneak and a few of the neighbours, but they had doubtless abandoned the settlement, for no traces of them remained after their mysterious flight from the grove.
A few mild days, during which frequent showers had fallen, had in a great measure removed the snow from the earth. And Joe having soon forgotten his late perilous adventure, amused himself with the horses. He resolved to make some amends for their long confinement in the stable, and to effect it he galloped them several hours each day over the grounds in the vicinity. The hounds, too, seemed delighted to place their feet once more on the bare earth, and they were permitted to accompany the horses in all their excursions.
One night, when William, Mary, and Joe were all quietly sleeping, Roughgrove took occasion to express his gratitude to Glenn for the many and important services rendered his family.
“Whatever good may have attended my efforts,” said Glenn, “you may rest assured that I have been amply repaid in the satisfaction enjoyed myself.”
“I am sure of it!” exclaimed Roughgrove; “and it was a conviction that you harboured such sentiments that induced me to confide in you, and to disclose things which I intended should remain for ever locked within my own breast.”
“Your confidence shall not be abused,” said Glenn; and to prove that I am not averse to an exchange of secrets, if you will listen to my recital, I will endeavour briefly to give you a sketch of my history.”
“I will listen attentively, my young friend, even were it as sad a tale as mine, which can hardly be the case,” said Roughgrove, drawing his chair close to Glenn’s side, and placing more fuel on the fire.
“Would to Heaven it had not been!” said Glenn, after reclining his head on his hands a few minutes, and recalling transactions which he could have wished to be blotted from his memory for ever. “I am a native of New York,” he continued, heaving a sigh and folding his arms, “and was left an orphan at a very early age. My father was once reputed one of the wealthiest merchants in Broadway; but repeated and enormous losses, necessarily inexplicable to one of my age, suddenly reduced him to comparative poverty. Neither he nor my mother survived the blow many months, and before I was ten years old, I was left (with the exception of an uncle in Philadelphia) alone in the world, possessed of only a few hundred dollars. My uncle placed me with an eminent physician, who had been my father’s friend, after my education was completed. He told me that he was rich, and would see that I should not suffer for means until I had acquired a profession, which, with energy and diligence, would enable me to procure an honourable support. But he informed me that he had a family of his own, and that I must not depend upon his assistance further than to accomplish a profession.
“It was during my studies, and when about seventeen years old, that my misfortunes began. My preceptor had another student, named Henry Wold, several years my senior, whose parents were wealthy. Wold and I entertained the highest esteem for each other. But our circumstances being different, I could not indulge in all the excesses of extravagance that he did, but made better progress in my studies. He attended all the gay parties and fashionable places of amusement, while I seldom spent an evening from home. He was tall, manly, and possessed of regular and beautiful features—these, with his unlimited wealth, made him a welcome guest in every circle, and extremely popular with the ladies.