he was the first to attack
them, and the only one who fell in the contest." These words were uttered in a manner that left me no room to doubt of
their truth. My uncle had already been lamented, and the discovery of
the nature of his death, so contrary to my forebodings, and of the
safety of my girls, made the state of my mind partake more of exultation
and joy than of grief or regret. But how was I deceived? Had not my fusil been found in the hands of an
enemy? Whence could he have plundered it but from my own chamber? It
hung against the wall of a closet, from which no stranger could have
taken it except by violence. My perplexities and doubts were not at an
end, but those which constituted my chief torment were removed. I
listened to my friend's entreaties to tell him the cause of my
elopement, and the incidents that terminated in the present interview. I began with relating my return to consciousness in the bottom of the
pit; my efforts to free myself from this abhorred prison; the acts of
horror to which I was impelled by famine, and their excruciating
consequences; my gaining the outlet of the cavern, the desperate
expedient by which I removed the impediment to my escape, and the
deliverance of the captive girl; the contest I maintained before Deb's
hut; my subsequent wanderings; the banquet which hospitality afforded
me; my journey to the river-bank; my meditations on the means of
reaching the road; my motives for hazarding my life by plunging into the
stream; and my subsequent perils and fears till I reached the threshold
of this habitation. "Thus," continued I, "I have complied with your request. I have told all
that I myself know. What were the incidents between my sinking to rest
at my uncle's and my awaking in the chambers of the hill; by what means
and by whose contrivance, preternatural or human, this transition was
effected, I am unable to explain; I cannot even guess. "What has eluded my sagacity may not be beyond the reach of another. Your own reflections on my tale, or some facts that have fallen under
your notice, may enable you to furnish a solution. But, meanwhile, how
am I to account for your appearance on this spot? This meeting was
unexpected and abrupt to you, but it has not been less so to me. Of all
mankind, Sarsefield was the furthest from my thoughts when I saw these
tokens of a traveller and a stranger. "You were imperfectly acquainted with my wanderings. You saw me on the
ground before Deb's hut. You saw me plunge into the river. You
endeavoured to destroy me while swimming; and you knew, before my
narrative was heard, that Huntly was the object of your enmity. What was
the motive of your search in the desert, and how were you apprized of my
condition? These things are not less wonderful that any of those which I
have already related." During my tale the features of Sarsefield betokened the deepest
attention. His eye strayed not a moment from my face. All my perils and
forebodings were fresh in my remembrance: they had scarcely gone by;
their skirts, so to speak, were still visible. No wonder that my
eloquence was vivid and pathetic; that I portrayed the past as if it
were the present scene; and that not my tongue only, but every muscle
and limb, spoke. When I had finished my relation, Sarsefield sank into thoughtfulness. From this, after a time, he recovered, and said, "Your tale, Huntly, is
true; yet, did I not see you before me, were I not acquainted with the
artlessness and rectitude of your character, and, above all, had not my
own experience, during the last three days, confirmed every incident, I
should question its truth. You have amply gratified my curiosity, and
deserve that your own should be gratified as fully. Listen to me. "Much has happened since we parted, which shall not be now mentioned. I
promised to inform you of my welfare by letter, and did not fail to
write; but whether my letters were received, or any were written by you
in return, or if written were ever transmitted, I cannot tell: none were
ever received. "Some days since, I arrived, in company with a lady who is my wife, in
America. You have never been forgotten by me. I knew your situation to
be little in agreement with your wishes, and one of the benefits which
fortune has lately conferred upon me is the power of snatching you from
a life of labour and obscurity, whose goods, scanty as they are, were
transient and precarious, and affording you the suitable leisure and
means of intellectual gratification and improvement. "Your silence made me entertain some doubts concerning your welfare, and
even your existence. To solve these doubts, I hastened to Solesbury. Some delays upon the road hindered me from accomplishing my journey by
daylight. It was night before I entered the Norwalk path; but my ancient
rambles with you made me familiar with it, and I was not afraid of being
obstructed or bewildered. "Just as I gained the southern outlet, I spied a passenger on foot,
coming towards me with a quick pace. The incident was of no moment; and
yet the time of night, the seeming expedition of the walker,
recollection of the mazes and obstacles which he was going to encounter,
and a vague conjecture that perhaps he was unacquainted with the
difficulties that awaited him, made me eye him with attention as he
passed. "He came near, and I thought I recognised a friend in this traveller. The form, the gesture, the stature, bore a powerful resemblance to those
of Edgar Huntly. This resemblance was so strong, that I stopped, and,
after he had gone by, called him by your name. That no notice was taken
of my call proved that the person was mistaken; but, even though it were
another, that he should not even hesitate or turn at a summons which he
could not but perceive to be addressed, though erroneously, to him, was
the source of some surprise. I did not repeat my call, but proceeded on
my way. "All had retired to repose in your uncle's dwelling. I did not scruple
to rouse them, and was received with affectionate and joyous greetings. That you allowed your uncle to rise before you was a new topic of
reflection. To my inquiries concerning you, answers were made that
accorded with my wishes. I was told that you were in good health and
were then in bed. That you had not heard and risen at my knocking was
mentioned with surprise; but your uncle accounted for your indolence by
saying that during the last week you had fatigued yourself by rambling,
night and day, in search of some maniac or visionary who was supposed to
have retreated into Norwalk. "I insisted upon awakening you myself. I anticipated the effect of this
sudden and unlooked-for meeting with some emotions of pride as well as
of pleasure. To find, in opening your eyes, your old preceptor standing
by your bedside and gazing in your face, would place you, I conceived,
in an affecting situation. "Your chamber-door was open, but your bed was empty. Your uncle and
sisters were made acquainted with this circumstance.