University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER II.

The ecclesiastic was the first of the party who arrived
at the summit. He had seated himself on one
of the blocks of stone which composed the pile, with
his back against the wall of the precipice, and had
taken the hat from his brow that he might enjoy the
breeze which played lightly about the cliffs; and the
coolness of which was doubly grateful after the toil of
the ascent. In doing this he uncovered a high and
ample forehead, such as artists love to couple with the
features of old age, when they would represent a comitenance
at once noble and venerable. This is the only
feature of the human face which Time spares: he dims
the lustre of the eye; he shrivels the cheek; he destroys
the firm or sweet expression of the mouth; he
thins and whitens the hairs; but the forehead, that temple
of thought, is beyond his reach, or rather, it shows
more grand and lofty for the ravages which surround it.

The spot on which they now stood commanded a
view of a wide extent of uncultivated and uninhabited
country. An eminence interposed to hide from sight

the village they had left; and on every side were
the summits of the boundless forest, here and there
diversified with a hollow of softer and richer verdure,
where the hurricane, a short time before, had descended
to lay prostrate the gigantic trees, and a young growth
had shot up in their stead. Solitary savannas opened
in the depth of the woods, and far off a lonely stream
was flowing away in silence, sometimes among venerable
trees, and sometimes through natural meadows,
crimson with blossoms. All around them was the
might, the majesty of vegetable life, untamed by the
hand of man, and pampered by the genial elements
into boundless luxuriance. The ecclesiastic pointed
out to his companions the peculiarities of the scenery;
he expatiated on the flowery beauty of those unshorn
lawns; and on the lofty growth, and the magnificence
and variety of foliage which distinguish the American
forests, so much the admiration of those who have seen
only the groves of Europe.

The conversation was interrupted by a harsh stridulous
cry, and looking up, the party beheld the eagle who
had left his perch on the top of the precipice, and having
passed over their heads, was winging his way towards
the stream in the distance.

"Ah," exclaimed Le Maire, "that is a hungry note,
and the bird is a shrewd one, for he is steering to a
place where there is plenty of game to my certain
knowledge. It is the golden eagle; the war eagle, as
the Indians call him, and no chicken either, as you may
understand from the dark colour of his plumage. I
warrant he has gorged many a rabbit and prairie hen
on these old cliffs. At all events, he has made me think
of my dinner: unless we make haste, good Father Ambrose,
I am positive that we shall be late to our venison
and claret."

"We must endeavour to prevent so great a misfortune,"
said Father Ambrose, rising from the rock where

he sat, and proceeding on the path towards the cavern.
It was a kind of narrow terrace, varying in width from
four to ten feet, running westwardly along the face of
the steep solid rock, and apparently formed by the
breaking away of the upper part of one of the perpendicular
strata of which the precipice was composed.
That event must have happened at a very remote
period, for in some places the earth had accumulated on
the path to a considerable depth, and here and there
grew a hardy and dwarfish shrub, or a tuft of wildflowers
hanging over the edge. As they proceeded, the
great height at which they stood, and the steepness of
the rocky wall above and below them, made Emily
often tremble and grow pale as she looked down. A
few rods brought the party to a turn in the rock, where
the path was narrower than elsewhere, and precisely
in the angle a portion of the terrace on which they
walked had fallen, leaving a chasm of about two feet
in width, through which their distance from the base
was fearfully apparent. Le Maire had already passed
it, but Emily, when she arrived at the spot, shrunk back
and leaned against the rock.

"I fear I shall not be able to cross the chasm," said
she, in a tone of alarm. "My poor head grows giddy
from a single look at it."

"Le Maire will assist you, my child," said the old
man, who walked behind her.

"With the greatest pleasure in life," answered Le
Maire; "though I confess I little expected that the
daughter of a clear-headed Yankee would complain of
being giddy in any situation. But this comes of having
a French mother I suppose. Let me provide a convenient
station for Madame le Maire, as you call her, and
I will help you over." He then placed his rifle against
the rock, where the path immediately beyond him grew
wider, and advancing to the edge of the chasm, held
forth both hands to Emily, taking hold of her arms near

the elbow. In doing this he perceived that she
trembled.

"You are as safe here as when you were in the
woods below," said Le Maire, "if you would but think
so. Step forward now, firmly, and look neither to the
right nor left."

She took the step, but at that moment the strange
inclination which we sometimes feel when standing on
a dizzy height, to cast ourselves to the ground, came
powerfully over her, and she leaned involuntarily and
heavily towards the verge of the precipice. Le Maire
was instantly aware of the movement, and bracing himself
firmly, strove with all his might to counteract it.
Had his grasp been less steady, or his self-possession
less perfect, they would both inevitably have been precipitated
from where they stood; but Le Maire was
familiar with all the perilous situations of the wilderness,
and the presence of mind he had learned in
such a school did not now desert him. His countenance
bore witness to the intense exertion he was
making; it was flushed, and its muscles were working
powerfully; his lips were closely compressed; the
veins on his brow swelled, and his arms quivered with
the strong tension given to their sinews. For an instant
the fate of the two seemed in suspense, but the strength
of the hunter prevailed, and he placed the damsel beside
him on the rock, fainting and pallid as a corpse.

"God be praised," said the priest, drawing heavily
the breath which he had involuntarily held during that
fearful moment, while he had watched the scene, unable
to render the least assistance.