“God forbid that we lay up regrets, in after life, through my want of sincerity now,” she said. “I hope we understand each other, at least. You will not accept me for a wife, Deerslayer?”
“'Tis better for both that I shouldn't take advantage of your own forgetfulness, Judith. We can never marry.”
“You do not love me,—cannot find it in your heart, perhaps, to esteem me, Deerslayer!”
“Everything in the way of fri'ndship, Judith—everything, even to sarvices and life itself. Yes, I'd risk as much for you, at this moment, as I would risk in behalf of Hist, and that is sayin' as much as I can say of any darter of woman. I do not think I feel towards either—mind I say either, Judith—as if I wished to quit father and mother—if father and mother was livin', which, howsever, neither is—but if both was livin', I do not feel towards any woman as if I wish'd to quit 'em in order to cleave unto her.”
“This is enough!” answered Judith, in a rebuked and smothered voice. “I understand all that you mean. Marry you cannot with loving, and that love you do not feel for me. Make no answer, if I am right, for I shall understand your silence. That will be painful enough of itself.”
Deerslayer obeyed her, and he made no reply. For more than a minute, the girl riveted her bright eyes on him as if to read his soul, while he was playing with the water like a corrected school boy. Then Judith, herself, dropped the end of her paddle, and urged the canoe away from the spot, with a movement as reluctant as the feelings which controlled it. Deerslayer quietly aided the effort, however, and they were soon on the trackless line taken by the Delaware.
In their way to the point, not another syllable was exchanged between Deerslayer and his fair companion. As Judith sat in the bow of the canoe, her back was turned towards him, else it is probable the expression of her countenance might have induced him to venture some soothing terms of friendship and regard. Contrary to what would have been expected, resentment was still absent, though the colour frequently changed from the deep flush of mortification to the paleness of disappointment. Sorrow, deep, heart-felt sorrow, however, was the predominant emotion, and this was betrayed in a manner not to be mistaken.
As neither labored hard at the paddle, the ark had already arrived and the soldiers had disembarked before the canoe of the two loiterers reached the point. Chingachgook had preceded it, and was already some distance in the wood, at a spot where the two trails, that to the garrison and that to the villages of the Delawares, separated. The soldiers, too, had taken up their line of march, first setting the Ark adrift again, with a reckless disregard of its fate. All this Judith saw, but she heeded it not. The glimmerglass had no longer any charms for her, and when she put her foot on the strand, she immediately proceeded on the trail of the soldiers without casting a single glance behind her. Even Hist was passed unnoticed, that modest young creature shrinking from the averted face of Judith, as if guilty herself of some wrongdoing.
“Wait you here, Sarpent,” said Deerslayer as he followed in the footsteps of the dejected beauty, while passing his friend. “I will just see Judith among her party, and come and j'ine you.”
A hundred yards had hid the couple from those in front, as well as those in their rear, when Judith turned, and spoke.