Notwithstanding their recumbent attitudes, the hunters did not appear to go to sleep. I observed them at intervals. Their heads were close together, and slightly raised above the ground, as if they were whispering to one another.
As before, I walked round and round—the moonlight enabling me to move more rapidly. Ofttimes did I make the circuit of the little pond—how oft, it would be difficult to determine.
My steps were mechanical—my thoughts had no connection with the physical exertions I was making, and I took no note of how I progressed.
After a time there came a lull over my spirits. For a short interval both my griefs and vengeful passions seemed to have departed.
I knew the cause. It was a mere psychological phenomenon—one of common occurrence. The nerves that were organs of the peculiar emotions under which I had been suffering, had grown wearied and refused to act. I knew it was but a temporary calm—the lull between two billows of the storm.
During its continuance, I was sensible to impressions from external objects. I could not help noticing the singularity of the scene around me. The bright moonlight enabled me to note its features somewhat minutely.
We were encamped upon what, by backwoodsmen, is technically termed a glade—oftener, in their idiom, a “gleed”—a small opening in the woods, without timber or trees of any sort. This one was circular—about fifty yards in diameter—with the peculiarity of having a pond in its midst. The pond, which was only a few yards in circumference, was also a circle, perfectly concentric with the glade itself. It was one of those singular natural basins found throughout the peninsula, and appearing as if scooped out by mechanic art. It was deeply sunk in the earth, and filled with water till within three feet of its rim. The liquid was cool and clear, and under the moonbeams shone with a silvery effulgence.
Of the glade itself nothing more—except that it was covered with sweet-smelling flowers, that now, crushed under the hoofs of horses and the heels of man, gave forth a redoubled fragrance.
The picture was pretty.
Under happier circumstances, I should have contemplated it with pleasure. But it was not the picture that so much occupied my attention at that moment. Rather was it the framing.