The lost hunter: A tale of early times

by John Turvill Adams

In accordance with the determination he had expressed, Holden began soon to talk about putting his wild plan of roaming through the world into execution, and was withheld from it only by the entreaties of Pownal, that he would at least postpone it until after the arrival of his uncle, who was daily expected, and until they had taken his advice.

"I consent," said Holden, "both out of love to thee, and because I would not willingly leave a roof that hath protected me, without giving thanks to its owner."

A few days afterwards, Mr. Pownal returned with his family, by all of whom the young man was welcomed with every evidence of the warmest regard. Holden, too, as the friend of the younger Pownal, came in for a share of attention. The family consisted of the father and mother, and two children, a boy and girl, the former of whom could not be more than ten years of age, while the latter was probably two years younger.

Mr. Pownal himself was a fine, frank, hearty gentleman of some sixty years, whose appearance indicated that the world had gone well with him, and that he was satisfied with the world. The ordinary expression of his face was that of quiet contentment, though at times it betrayed a keen sagacity and shrewdness, partly the revelation of nature, and partly the product of an intimate intercourse with that world with which his business brought him, in various ways, in contact. It was however apparent, that however much the associations and experiences of trade had sharpened his intellect, they had not tarnished the natural goodness of his heart. That spoke in the frank tones of his manly voice and shone in the light of his clear blue eyes. One could hardly look at him without a conviction that he was a man to be trusted, and a desire to grasp his hand in friendship. Holden felt the influence at the introduction, and no mean judge of character himself, was glad to make the acquaintance.

Mrs. Pownal was by several years the junior of her husband, and in all respects different from him. Her hair and eyes were raven-black, her complexion dark and saturnine, and she wore an expression of care inconsistent with enjoyment. She had been for many years a childless wife, and it may be that early disappointment, occasioned by the want of children, uniting with a melancholy temperament, had imparted an appearance of dejection which the subsequent birth of a boy and girl after she had given up the expectation of offspring, was unable to remove. She seldom smiled, and when she did, the smile played over her countenance like the sickly gleam of a wintry clay through clouds, and seemed rather to chill than to warm what before was cold. It was a formal tribute to the customs of society, not the spontaneous outburst of joy. She presented the tips of her fingers with all the grace of an accomplished lady, to Holden, and meant that her reception of him should be kind, but the hand was cold, and apparently as unfeeling as marble, and the Solitary dropped it as soon as touched. And yet Mrs. Pownal had feeling.

The first few days after the return of the Pownals was spent by them in gathering up those threads of relationship by which people are connected with society. Even a short absence from home induces sometimes the necessity of paying and receiving many visits, proportioned to the extent of the circle in which the parties move. The visiting circle of the Pownals was large, and hence the longer time was required. Besides, the business pursuits of the merchant engrossed some hours each day, though as the head of a large house in which there were several younger partners, he claimed and enjoyed all the leisure he desired. For these reasons young Pownal had found no fitting opportunity to speak in the presence of Holden of the purpose which brought the Solitary to the city, and besides, he did not wish to do so, until the time should arrive for his own return to Hillsdale, when he hoped, with the assistance of his uncle, to persuade him to return home. But the business of the young man was at last completed, and he was ready to retrace his steps.

It was then one evening when both Mr. and Mrs. Pownal were present, and immediately preceding the day when he had announced his intention to depart, that Holden, at the solicitation of young Pownal, supported by the courteous entreaties of his uncle, narrated the events of his life, which are already known to the reader, and avowed with that unshaken trust in Providence, which in all circumstances sustained him, his resolution to beg his way through the world on his sacred search. His hosts had become, by this time, so accustomed to the fiery enthusiasm and antique diction of his discourse, that they no longer excited their surprise, but as he proceeded with his tale, the attention of both seemed arrested by a strange fascination. Even the figure of Mrs. Pownal lost its listlessness. Her black eyes became riveted on the speaker. She bent forward, with parted lips, as if unwilling to lose a word, while from time to time glances of intelligence passed between the husband and wife, which neither Pownal nor Holden were able to understand.

"Thus far," said the enthusiast, in conclusion, "the Lord hath led me on. By flood and fire, and in battle He hath preserved a life, that long was wearisome to me. But in these latter days, He hath awakened a new hope, and given me an assurance thereof which I can better feel than tell. He hath not prolonged my life for naught. Behold, I know assuredly, that the child liveth, and that in my flesh, I shall see His salvation. Therefore, in obedience to the inner voice, will I gird up my loins, and after thanking you my friends, for the bread we have broken together, and the roof that hath sheltered the wanderer's head, will I proceed upon my way."

He rose and strode across the room, as if to put his design into instant execution, but the voice of the elder Pownal arrested him.

"Stay," he said, "and listen. Your steps have indeed, been wonderfully directed. I can give you, perhaps, some information, about this John Johnson, with whom the boy was left."