University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

The commotion was just subsiding, and the inhabitants
of the village had begun to disperse
from the little groups they had formed, each retiring
to his own home, and closing his door after
him, with the grave air of a man who consulted
public feeling in his exterior deportment, when
Oliver Edwards, on his return from the dwelling
of Mr. Grant, encountered the young lawyer, who
is known to the reader as Mr. Lippet. There
was very little similarity in the manners or opinions
of the two; but as they both belonged to the
more intelligent class of a very small community,
they were, of course, known to each other; and,
as their meeting was at a point where silence would
have been rudeness, the following conversation
was the result of their interview:

“A fine evening, Mr. Edwards,” commenced
the lawyer, whose disinclination to the dialogue
was, to say the least, very doubtful; “we want rain
sadly;—that's the worst of this climate of ours,
it's either a drought or a deluge. It's likely
you've been used to a more equal temperatoore?”

“I am a native of this state,” returned Edwards,
coldly.

“Well, I've often heerd that point disputed;
but it's so easy to get a man naturalized, that it's
of little consequence where he was born. I wonder
what course the Judge means to take in this
business of Natty Bumppo?”

“Of Natty Bumppo!” echoed Edwards; “to
what do you allude, sir?”

“Haven't you heerd!” exclaimed the other,
with a look of surprise, so naturally assumed as
completely to deceive the other; “why, it may
turn out an ugly business. It seems that the old
man has been out in the hills, and has shot a buck,
this morning, and that, you know, is a criminal
matter in the eyes of Judge Temple.”

“Oh! he has, has he!” said Edwards, averting
his face to conceal the colour that collected in
his sun-burnt cheek. “Well, if that be all, he
must even pay the fine.”

“It's five pounds, currency,” said the lawyer;
“could Natty muster so much money at once?”

“Could he!” cried the youth. “I am not rich,
Mr. Lippet; far from it—I am poor; and I have
been hoarding my salary for a purpose that lies
near my heart; but before that old man should
lie one hour in a gaol, I would spend the last cent
to prevent it. Besides he has killed two panthers,
and the bounty will discharge the fine many times
over.”

“Yes, yes,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands
together with an expression of pleasure that had
no artifice about it; “we shall make it out; I see
plainly, we shall make it out.”

“Make what out, sir? I must beg an explanation.”

“Why, killing the buck is but a small matter,
compared to what took place this afternoon,” continued

Mr. Lippet, with a confidential and friendly
air, that insensibly won upon the youth, as little
as he liked the man. “It seems, that a complaint
was made of the fact, and the suspicion that
there was venison in the hut was sworn to, all
which is provided for in the statoote, when Judge
Temple granted a search-warrant”—

“A search-warrant!” echoed Edwards, in a
voice of horror, and with a face that should have
been again averted, to conceal its paleness; “and
how much did they discover? What did they
see?”

“They saw old Bumppo's rifle; and that is a
sight which will quiet most men's curiosity in the
woods.”

“Did they! did they!” shouted Edwards,
bursting into a convulsive laugh; “so the old
hero beat them back—he beat them back! did
he?”

The lawyer fastened his eyes in astonishment
on the youth; but, as his wonder gave way to the
thoughts that were commonly uppermost in his
mind, he replied—

“It's no laughing matter, let me tell you, sir;
the forty dollars of bounty, and your six months
of salary, will be much reduced before you get
the matter fairly settled. Assaulting a magistrate
in the execootion of his duty, and menacing a
constable with fire-arms, at the same time, is a
pretty serious affair, and is punishable with both
fine and imprisonment.”

“Imprisonment!” repeated Oliver; “imprison
the Leather-stocking! no, no, sir; it would bring
the old man to his grave. They shall never imprison
the Leather-stocking.”

“Well, Mr. Edwards,” said Lippet, dropping
all reserve from his manner, “you are called a
curious man; but if you can tell me how a jury

is to be prevented from finding a verdict of guilty,
if this case comes fairly before them, and the proof
is clear, I shall acknowledge that you know more
law than I do, who have had a license in my
pocket for three years.”

By this time the reason of Edwards was getting
the ascendency of his feelings; and, as he
begun to see the real difficulties in the case, he
listened more readily to the conversation of the
lawyer. The ungovernable emotion that escaped
the youth, in the first moment of his surprise, entirely
passed away, and, although it was still evident
that he continued to be much agitated by
what he had heard, he succeeded in yielding a
forced attention to the advice which the other uttered.

Notwithstanding the confused state of his mind,
Oliver soon discovered that most of the expedients
of the lawyer were grounded in cunning, and
plans that required a time to execute them in, that
neither suited his disposition nor his emergencies.
After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to understand
that he retained him, in the event of a trial, an assurance
that at once satisfied the lawyer, they
parted, one taking his course, with a deliberate
tread, in the direction of the little building that
had a wooden sign over its door, with “Chester
Lippet, Attorney at Law,” painted on it; and
the other, pacing over the ground, with enormous
strides, towards the Mansion-house. We
shall take leave of the attorney for the present,
and direct the attention of the reader to his client.

When Edwards entered the hall, whose enormous
doors were opened to the passage of the air
of a mild evening, he found Benjamin engaged in
some of his domestic avocations, and, in a hurried
voice, inquired where Judge Temple was to be
found.

“Why, the Judge has just stept into his office,
with that master-carpenter, Mister Doolittle; but
Miss Lizzy is in that there parlour. I say, Master
Oliver, we'd like to have had a bad job of that
panther, or painter's work—some calls it one, and
some calls it t'other—but I know little of the beast,
seeing that it's not of British growth. I said as
much as that it was in the hills, the last winter;
for I heard it moaning on the lake-shore, one
evening in the fall, when I was pulling down from
the fishing point in the skiff. Had the animal
come into the open water, where a man could see
where and how to work his vessel, I would have
engaged the thing myself; but looking aloft
among the trees, is all the same to me as standing
on the deck of one ship and looking at another
vessel's tops. I never can tell one rope from
another”—

“Well, well,” interrupted Edwards; “I must
see Miss Temple.”

“And you shall see her, sir,” said the steward;
“she's in this here room. Oh! Lord, Master
Edwards, what a loss she'd have been to the
Judge! Dam'me if I know where he would have
gotten such another daughter; that is, full-grown,
d'ye see. I say, sir, this Master Bumppo is a
worthy man, and seems to have a handy way with
him, with fire arms and boat-hooks. I'm his
friend, Master Oliver, and he and you may both
set me down as the same.”

“We may want your friendship, my worthy
fellow,” cried Edwards, squeezing his hand convulsively—“we
may want your friendship, in
which case, you shall know it.”

Without waiting to hear the earnest reply that
Benjamin meditated, the youth extricated himself
from the vigorous grasp of the steward, and entered
the parlour.

Elizabeth was alone, and still reclining on the
sofa, where we last left her. A hand, which exceeded
all that the ingenuity of art could model,
in shape and colour, veiled her eyes; and the
maiden was sitting in an abstracted posture, as if
communing deeply with herself. Struck by the
attitude and loveliness of the form that met his
eye, the young man checked his impatience, and
approached her with respect and caution.

“Miss Temple—Miss Temple,” he said, “I
hope I do not intrude; but I am anxious to see
you, if it be only for a moment.”

Elizabeth raised her face, and exhibited her
dark eyes swimming in moisture; but a flush crossed
her cheeks, that resembled the tints which the
setting sun throws over the neighbouring clouds.

“Is it you, Edwards?” she said, with a
sweetness in her voice, and a softness in her air,
that she often used to her father, but which, from
its novelty to himself, thrilled on every nerve of
the youth; “how left you our poor Louise?”

“She is with her father, happy and grateful,”
said Oliver. “I never witnessed more feeling
than she manifested, when I ventured to express
my pleasure at her escape. I know not how it
was, Miss Temple, but when I first heard of your
horrid situation, my feelings were too powerful
for utterance; and I did not properly find my
tongue, until the walk to Mr. Grant's had given
me time to collect myself. I believe—I do believe,
I acquitted myself better there, for Miss Grant
even wept at my silly speeches.”

For a moment Elizabeth did not reply, but
again veiled her eyes with her hand. The feeling
that caused the action, however, soon passed away,
and, raising her face again to his gaze, she continued,
with a smile—

“Your friend, the Leather-stocking, has now

become my friend, Edwards; I have been thinking
how I can best serve him; perhaps you, who
know his habits and his wants so well, can tell
me”—

“I can,” cried the youth, with an impetuosity
that startled the maiden—“I can, and may Heaven
reward you for the wish. Natty has been so
imprudent as to forget the law, and has this day
killed a deer. Nay, I believe I must share in
the crime and the penalty, for I was an accomplice
throughout. A complaint has been
made to your father, and he has granted a
search”—

“I know it all,” interrupted Elizabeth, beckoning
with her hand for silence; “I know it—I
know it all. The forms of the law must be complied
with, however; the search must be made,
the deer found, and the penalty paid. But I must
retort your own question. Have you lived so long
in our family, not to know us? Look at me, Oliver
Edwards. Do I appear like the girl who would
permit the man that has just saved her life to linger
in a gaol, for so small a sum as this fine? No,
no, sir; my father is a Judge, but he is a man and
a Christian. It is all understood, and no harm
shall follow.”

“What a load of apprehension do your declaratians
remove!” exclaimed Edwards. “He shall
not be disturbed again! your father will protect
him! I have your assurance, Miss Temple, that
he will, and I must believe it.”

“You may have his own, Mr. Edwards,” returned
Elizabeth, “for here he comes to make it.”

But the appearance of Marmaduke, who entered
the apartment, contradicted the flattering anticipations
of his daughter. His brow was contracted
with a look of care, and his manner was
disturbed. Neither Elizabeth nor the youth

spoke; but the Judge was allowed to pace once or
twice across the room without interruption, when
he cried—

“Our plans are defeated, girl; the obstinacy of
the Leather-stocking has brought down the indignation
of the law on his devoted head, and it is
out of my power to avert it.”

“How? in what manner?” cried Elizabeth;
“the fine is nothing; surely”—

“I did not—I could not anticipate that an old,
a friendless man, like him, would dare to oppose
the officers of justice,” interrupted the Judge; “I
supposed that he would submit to the search, when
the fine could have been paid, and the law would
have been appeased; but now he will have to
meet its rigour.”

“And what must the punishment be, sir?” asked
Edwards, in an agitated voice.

Marmaduke turned quickly to the spot where
the youth had withdrawn, and exclaimed—

“You here! I did not observe you. I know
not what it will be, sir; it is not usual for a Judge
to decide, until he has heard the testimony, and
the jury have convicted. Of one thing, however,
you may be assured, Mr. Edwards; it shall be
whatever the law demands, notwithstanding any
momentary weakness I may have exhibited, because
the luckless man has been of such eminent
service to my daughter.”

“No one, I believe, doubts the sense of justice
which Judge Temple entertains!” returned Edwards,
bitterly. “But let us converse calmly,
sir. Will not the years, the habits, nay the ignorance
of my old friend, avail him any thing against
such a charge?”

“Ought they? I may ask,” returned Marmaduke.
“They may extenuate, but can they acquit?
Would any society be tolerable, young

man, where the ministers of justice are to be opposed
by men armed with rifles? Is it for this that
I have tamed the wilderness?”

“Had you tamed the beasts that so lately threatened
the life of Miss Temple, sir, your arguments
would apply better.”

“Edwards!” exclaimed Elizabeth—

“Peace, my child,” interrupted her father;—
“the youth is unjust; but I have not given him
cause. I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know
thee to be the friend of Natty, and thy zeal in his
behalf has overcome thy discretion.”

“Yes, he is my friend,” cried Edwards, “and
I glory in the title. He is simple, unlettered, even
ignorant; prejudiced, perhaps, though I feel that
his opinion of the world is too true: but he has a
heart, Judge Temple, that would atone for a thousand
faults; he knows his friends, and never deserts
them, even if it be his dog.”

“This is a good character, Mr. Edwards,” returned
Marmaduke, mildly; “but I have never
been so fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to
me he has been uniformly repulsive; yet I have
endured it, as an old man's whim. However,
when he appears before me, as his judge, he shall
find that his former conduct shall not aggravate,
any more than his recent services shall extenuate
his crime.”

“Crime!” echoed Edwards; “is it a crime to
drive a prying miscreant from his door? Crime!
Oh! no, sir; if there be a criminal involved in
this affair, it is not he.”

“And who may it be, sir?” asked Judge Temple,
facing the agitated youth, with his fine, manly
features settled to their usual composure.

This appeal was more than the young man
could bear. Hitherto he had been deeply agitated

by his emotions; but now the volcano burst
its boundaries.

“Who! and this to me!” he cried; “ask your
own conscience, Judge Temple. Walk to that
door, sir, and look out upon the valley, that placid
lake, and those dusky mountains, and say to
your own heart, if heart you have, whence came
these riches, this vale, those hills, and why am I
their owner? I should think, sir, that the appearance
of Mohegan and the Leather-stocking,
stalking through the country, impoverished and
forlorn, would wither your sight.”

Marmaduke heard this burst of passion, at first,
with deep amazement; but when the youth had
ended, he beckoned to his impatient daughter for
silence, and replied—

“Oliver Edwards, thou forgettest in whose
presence thou standest. I have heard, young
man, that thou claimest descent from the native
owners of the soil; but surely thy education has
been given thee to no effect, if it has not taught
thee the validity of the claims that have transferred
the title to the whites. These lands are mine
by the very grants of thy ancestry, if thou art so
descended; and I appeal to Heaven, for a testimony
of the uses I have put them to. After
this language, we must separate. I have too long
sheltered thee in my dwelling; but the time has
arrived when thou must quit it. Come to my office,
and I will discharge the debt I owe thee.
Neither shall thy present intemperate language
mar thy future fortunes, if thou wilt hearken to
the advice of one who is by many years thy
senior.”

The ungovernable feeling that caused the violence
of the youth had passed away, and he stood
gazing after the retiring figure of Marmaduke,
with a vacancy in his eye, that denoted the absence

of his mind. At length he recollected himself,
and, turning his head slowly around the
apartment, he beheld Elizabeth, still seated on the
sofa, but with her head dropped on her bosom, and
her face again concealed by her hands.

“Miss Temple,” he said—all violence had left
his manner—“Miss Temple—I have forgotten
myself—forgotten you. You have heard what
your father has decreed, and this night I leave
here. With you I would part in amity.”

Elizabeth slowly raised her face, across which
a momentary expression of sadness stole; but as
she left her seat, her dark eyes lighted with their
usual fire, her cheek flushed to burning, and her
whole air seemed to belong to another nature.

“I forgive you, Edwards, and my father will
forgive you,” she said, when she reached the
door. “You do not know us, but the time may
come, when your opinions shall change”—

“Of you! never!” interrupted the youth;
“I”—

“I would speak, sir, and not listen. There is
something in this affair that I do not yet comprehend;
but tell the Leather-stocking he has friends
as well as judges in us. Do not let the old man
experience unnecessary uneasiness, at this rupture.
It is impossible that you could increase his
claims here; neither shall they be diminished by
any thing you have said. Mr. Edwards, I wish
you happiness, and warmer friends.”

The youth would have spoken, but she vanished
from the door so rapidly, that when he reached
the hall her light form was nowhere to be seen.
He paused a moment, in a stupor, and then, rushing
from the house, instead of following Marmaduke
to his “office,” he took his way directly for
the cabin of the hunters.