God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one.
King Henry V
Charles Brown had listened with respect and admiration
to the farewell address of the Indian, and
forgetful of every other sentiment, he eagerly pursued
him, with the intention of restoring the happiness
he had so nobly sacrificed. But there were few of
the swiftest animals of the forest could outstrip the
speed of Hobomok. His step was soon out of hearing, and Brown having at length lost sight of his track, reluctantly gave over the pursuit. In his anxiety to overtake the savage, and in the bewilderment of his own brain, he lost the path; and the sun was nearly setting, when he regained the road he had left. He seated himself upon a rock, in hopes of again meeting Hobomok, should he attempt to return to Plymouth. No sound was heard in those lone forests, save the rustling of the leaves as they bowed to the autumnal wind, or the shriek of some solitary bird as he flapped his wings above the head of the traveller. To these was now and then added the monotonous sound of the whippowill, answered by a strain of wild and varied melody from some far-off songster of the woods. The foliage of the trees was every where so thickly interlaced, excepting the narrow footpath which opened before him, that scarcely a single ray of light could be discerned among the branches. The brightness of the sun had already gone beyond the view, and a long train of sable clouds were gathering in the west, as if mourning his departure. The conflicting feelings of the young man were settled in deep melancholy; and the aspect of nature "suited the gloomy habit of his soul."
"Thus," thought he, "has been my ambitious
course. Thus did the dawning rays of hope and imagination
send forth their radiance, till the world seemed
all light and joy. I have struggled through the
clouds which have gathered around me, cheered by
the thought that Mary's love would render the evening
of my days tranquil and happy. Desperate must
have been the temptations which beset the dear girl's
mind, when she took the cruel step which has forever
wrenched that hope from me. But the deed is done, and God forbid that my resentment should rest on her unhappy head. Existence must now be as sad as those dull clouds which are so fast gathering."
The evening grew more dark, and still nothing betokened
the approach of the hunter; and the dismal
hooting of the owls, and the distant growling of the
wolf, warned the traveller to seek safety in the haunts
of men. He proceeded along his journey uninterrupted; and soon the well known wigwam of Hobomok met his view. He started with a sudden pang, and walked along rapidly, whistling lest he should hear the sound of that voice so dear to his memory. Immediately after the painful spot was passed, he met a little boy, hieing homeward, as merry and hardy as youth and poverty could make him.
"My boy," said he, "can you tell me where Mr. Collier lives?"
The child pointed to a new house that was hard by, and scampered home to tell his father there was a stranger in the settlement. Mr. Brown already had his hand upon the latch, when the recollection of Hobomok's terror induced him to ascertain who were the inmates of the dwelling, before he ventured to enter. Stepping round cautiously he looked in at the window. Sally sat there knitting by a dim taper, her foot gently moving the white pine cradle, which contained her sleeping infant.
"I shall no doubt alarm her if I go in so suddenly," thought he.
While he was deliberating, he heard the noise of
coming footsteps, and presently a man stumbled, and
fell directly before him.
"What have we here?" muttered the stranger, springing on his feet and looking back. "I'll go in and ask Sally for a light."
"Who are you, sir?" inquired he, as he noticed
Brown standing before his door.
"Mr. Collier," replied the young man, "I would not
willingly alarm you, therefore give me your hand, before
I tell you my name. You suppose Charles
Brown to be dead, but he is alive, and you now have
him by the hand."
"Charles Brown of Salem!" exclaimed Mr. Collier.
"The same," answered his visitor.
"If you are really the living Mr. Brown," said the
other, "why do you stand outside of my door? Don't
you suppose you'd have a welcome within, after all
that's past and gone?"