The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [218]
“I don’t know what you mean by future, Judith,” she at length suddenly observed. “Mother used to call heaven the future, but you seem to think it means next week, or tomorrow!”
“It means both, dear sister; everything that is yet to come, whether in this world or another. It is a solemn word, Hetty, and most so, I fear, to them that think the least about it. Mother’s future is eternity; ours may yet mean what will happen while we live in this world—is not that a canoe just passing behind the castle?—here, more in the direction of the point, I mean; it is hid, now; but, certainly, I saw a canoe stealing behind the logs.”
“I’ve seen it some time,” Hetty quietly answered, for the Indians had few terrors for her, “but I did not think it right to talk about such things over mother’s grave. The canoe came from the camp, Judith, and was paddled by a single man; he seemed to be Deerslayer, and no Iroquois.”
“Deerslayer!” returned the other, with much of her native impetuosity. “That can’t be! Deerslayer is a prisoner, and I have been thinking of the means of setting him free. Why did you fancy it Deerslayer, child?”
“You can look for yourself, sister; there comes the canoe in sight again, on this side of the hut.”
Sure enough, the light boat had passed the building, and was now steadily advancing towards the ark; the persons on board of which were already collecting in the head of the scow to receive their visitor. A single glance sufficed to assure Judith that her sister was right, and that Deerslayer was alone in the canoe. His approach was so calm and leisurely, however, as to fill her with wonder, since a man who had effected his escape from enemies, by either artifice or violence, would not be apt to move with the steadiness and deliberation with which his paddle swept the water. By this time the day was fairly departing, and objects were already seen dimly under the shores. In the broad lake, however, the light still lingered, and around the immediate scene of the present incidents, which was less shaded than most of the sheet, being in its broadest part, it cast a glare that bore some faint resemblance to the warm tints of an Italian or Grecian sunset. The logs of the hut and ark had a sort of a purple hue, blended with the growing obscurity, and the bark of the hunter’s boat was losing its distinctness, in colors richer, but more mellowed, than those it showed under a bright sun. As the two canoes approached each other—for Judith and her sister had plied their paddles so as to intercept the unexpected visitor ere he reached the ark—even Deerslayer’s sunburnt countenance wore a brighter aspect than common, under the pleasing tints that seemed to dance in the atmosphere. Judith fancied that delight at meeting her had some share in this unusual and agreeable expression. She was not aware that her own beauty appeared to more advantage than common, from the same natural cause; nor did she understand, what it would have given her much pleasure to know, that the young man actually thought her, as she drew near, the loveliest creature of her sex his eyes had ever dwelt on.
“Welcome—welcome, Deerslayer!” exclaimed the girl as the canoes floated at each other’s sides; “we have had a melancholy—a frightful day; but your return is, at least, one misfortune the less. Have the Hurons become more humane and let you go, or have you escaped from the wretches by your own courage and skill?”
“Neither, Judith, neither one nor t‘other. The Mingos are Mingos still, and will live and die Mingos; it is not likely their natur’s will ever undergo much improvement. Well, they’ve their gifts, and we’ve our’n, Judith, and it doesn’t much become either to speak ill of what the Lord has created; though, if the truth must be said, I find it a sore trial to think kindly or to talk kindly of them vagabonds. As for outwitting