It may be easily conceived that my thoughts, when allowed to wander from
the objects before me, were tormented with forebodings and inquietudes
on account of the ills which I had so much reason to believe had
befallen my family. I had no doubt that some evil had happened, but the
full extent of it was still uncertain. I desired and dreaded to discover
the truth, and was unable to interrogate this person in a direct manner. I could deal only in circuities and hints. I shuddered while I waited
for an answer to my inquiries. Had not Indians, I asked, been lately seen in this neighbourhood? Were
they not suspected of hostile designs? Had they not already committed
some mischief? Some passenger, perhaps, had been attacked, or fire had
been set to some house? On which side of the river had their steps been
observed or any devastation been committed? Above the ford or below it? At what distance from the river? When his attention could be withdrawn from my person and bestowed upon
my questions, he answered that some alarm had indeed been spread about
Indians, and that parties from Solesbury and Chetasco were out in
pursuit of them, that many persons had been killed by them, and that one
house in Solesbury had been rifled and burnt on the night before the
last. These tidings were a dreadful confirmation of my fears. There scarcely
remained a doubt; but still my expiring hope prompted me to inquire, "To
whom did the house belong?" He answered that he had not heard the name of the owner. He was a
stranger to the people on the other side of the river. Were any of the inhabitants murdered? Yes; all that were at home, except a girl whom they carried off. Some
said that the girl had been retaken. What was the name? Was it Huntly? Huntly? Yes. No. He did not know. He had forgotten. I fixed my eyes upon the ground. An interval of gloomy meditation
succeeded. All was lost! All for whose sake I had desired to live had
perished by the hands of these assassins! That dear home, the scene of
my sportive childhood, of my studies, labours, and recreations, was
ravaged by fire and the sword,--was reduced to a frightful ruin! Not only all that embellished and endeared existence was destroyed, but
the means of subsistence itself. Thou knowest that my sisters and I were
dependants on the bounty of our uncle. His death would make way for the
succession of his son, a man fraught with envy and malignity, who always
testified a mortal hatred to us, merely because we enjoyed the
protection of his father. The ground which furnished me with bread was
now become the property of one who, if he could have done it with
security, would gladly have mingled poison with my food. All that my imagination or my heart regarded as of value had likewise
perished. Whatever my chamber, my closets, my cabinets contained, my
furniture, my books, the records of my own skill, the monuments of their
existence whom I loved, my very clothing, were involved in
indiscriminate and irretrievable destruction. Why should I survive this
calamity? But did not he say that one had escaped? The only females in the family
were my sisters. One of these had been reserved for a fate worse than
death; to gratify the innate and insatiable cruelty of savages, by
suffering all the torments their invention can suggest, or to linger out
years of weary bondage and unintermitted hardship in the bosom of the
wilderness. To restore her to liberty, to cherish this last survivor of
my unfortunate race, was a sufficient motive to life and to activity. But soft! Had not rumour whispered that the captive was retaken? Oh! who
was her angel of deliverance? Where did she now abide? Weeping over the
untimely fall of her protector and her friend? Lamenting and upbraiding
the absence of her brother? Why should I not haste to find her?--to
mingle my tears with hers, to assure her of my safety, and expatiate the
involuntary crime of my desertion by devoting all futurity to the task
of her consolation and improvement? The path was open and direct. My new motives would have trampled upon
every impediment and made me reckless of all dangers and all toils. I
broke from my reverie, and, without taking leave or expressing gratitude
to my informant, I ran with frantic expedition towards the river, and,
plunging into it, gained the opposite side in a moment. I was sufficiently acquainted with the road. Some twelve or fifteen
miles remained to be traversed. I did not fear that my strength would
fail in the performance of my journey. It was not my uncle's habitation
to which I directed my steps. Inglefield was my friend. If my sister had
existence, or was snatched from captivity, it was here that an asylum
had been afforded to her, and here was I to seek the knowledge of my
destiny. For this reason, having reached a spot where the road divided
into two branches, one of which led to Inglefield's and the other to
Huntly's, I struck into the former. Scarcely had I passed the angle when I noticed a building on the right
hand, at some distance from the road. In the present state of my
thoughts, it would not have attracted my attention, had not a light
gleamed from an upper window and told me that all within were not at
rest. I was acquainted with the owner of this mansion. He merited esteem and
confidence, and could not fail to be acquainted with recent events. From
him I should obtain all the information that I needed, and I should be
delivered from some part of the agonies of my suspense. I should reach
his door in a few minutes, and the window-light was a proof that my
entrance at this hour would not disturb the family, some of whom were
stirring. Through a gate I entered an avenue of tall oaks, that led to the house. I could not but reflect on the effect which my appearance would produce
upon the family. The sleek locks, neat apparel, pacific guise, sobriety
and gentleness of aspect by which I was customarily distinguished, would
in vain be sought in the apparition which would now present itself
before them. My legs, neck, and bosom were bare, and their native hue
was exchanged for the livid marks of bruises and scarifications. A
horrid scar upon my cheek, and my uncombed locks; hollow eyes, made
ghastly by abstinence and cold, and the ruthless passions of which my
mind had been the theatre, added to the musket which I carried in my
hand, would prepossess them with the notion of a maniac or ruffian. Some inconveniences might hence arise, which, however, could not be
avoided. I must trust to the speed with which my voice and my words
should disclose my true character and rectify their mistake. I now reached the principal door of the house. It was open, and I
unceremoniously entered. In the midst of the room stood a German stove,
well heated. To thaw my half-frozen limbs was my first care. Meanwhile I
gazed around me, and marked the appearances of things. Two lighted candles stood upon the table. Beside them were cider-bottles
and pipes of tobacco.