LEATHERSTOCKING TALES – Complete Collection. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

and therefore it may be well, when fri’nds separate under a likelihood that the parting may be long, to say a few words in kindness, as a sort of keepsakes. If all but one will go into the Ark, I’ll talk to each in turn, and what is more, I’ll listen to what you may have to say back ag’in, for it’s a poor counsellor that won’t take as well as give.”

      As the meaning of the speaker was understood, the two Indians immediately withdrew as desired, leaving the sisters, however, still standing at the young man’s side. A look of Deerslayer’s induced Judith to explain.

      “You can advise Hetty as you land,” she said hastily, “for I intend that she shall accompany you to the shore.”

      “Is this wise, Judith? It’s true, that under common sarcumstances a feeble mind is a great protection among red-skins, but when their feelin’s are up, and they’re bent on revenge, it’s hard to say what may come to pass. Besides —”

      “What were you about to say, Deerslayer?” asked Judith, whose gentleness of voice and manner amounted nearly to tenderness, though she struggled hard to keep her emotions and apprehensions in subjection.

      “Why, simply that there are sights and doin’s that one even as little gifted with reason and memory as Hetty here, might better not witness. So, Judith, you would do well to let me land alone, and to keep your sister back.”

      “Never fear for me, Deerslayer,” put in Hetty, who comprehended enough of the discourse to know its general drift, “I’m feeble minded, and that they say is an excuse for going anywhere; and what that won’t excuse, will be overlooked on account of the Bible I always carry. It is wonderful, Judith, how all sorts of men; the trappers as well as the hunters; red-men as well as white; Mingos as well as Delawares do reverence and fear the Bible!”

      “I think you have not the least ground to fear any injury, Hetty,” answered the sister, “and therefore I shall insist on your going to the Huron camp with our friend. Your being there can do no harm, not even to yourself, and may do great good to Deerslayer.”

      “This is not a moment, Judith, to dispute, and so have the matter your own way,” returned the young man. “Get yourself ready, Hetty, and go into the canoe, for I’ve a few parting words to say to your sister, which can do you no good.”

      Judith and her companion continued silent, until Hetty had so far complied as to leave them alone, when Deerslayer took up the subject, as if it had been interrupted by some ordinary occurrence, and in a very matter of fact way.

      “Words spoken at parting, and which may be the last we ever hear from a fri’nd are not soon forgotten,” he repeated, “and so Judith, I intend to speak to you like a brother, seein’ I’m not old enough to be your father. In the first place, I wish to caution you ag’in your inimies, of which two may be said to ha’nt your very footsteps, and to beset your ways. The first is oncommon good looks, which is as dangerous a foe to some young women, as a whole tribe of Mingos could prove, and which calls for great watchfulness — not to admire and praise — but to distrust and sarcumvent. Yes, good looks may be sarcumvented, and fairly outwitted, too. In order to do this you’ve only to remember that they melt like the snows, and, when once gone, they never come back ag’in. The seasons come and go, Judith, and if we have winter, with storms and frosts, and spring with chills and leafless trees, we have summer with its sun and glorious skies, and fall with its fruits, and a garment thrown over the forest, that no beauty of the town could rummage out of all the shops in America. ‘Arth is in an etarnal round, the goodness of God bringing back the pleasant when we’ve had enough of the onpleasant. But it’s not so with good looks. They are lent for a short time in youth, to be used and not abused, and, as I never met with a young woman to whom providence has been as bountiful as it has to you, Judith, in this partic’lar, I warn you, as it might be with my dyin’ breath, to beware of the inimy — fri’nd, or inimy, as we deal with the gift.”

      It was so grateful to Judith to hear these unequivocal admissions of her personal charms, that much would have been forgiven to the man who made them, let him be who he might. But, at that moment, and from a far better feeling, it would not have been easy for Deerslayer seriously to offend her, and she listened with a patience, which, had it been foretold only a week earlier, it would have excited her indignation to hear.

      “I understand your meaning, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, with a meekness and humility that a little surprised her listener, “and hope to be able to profit by it. But, you have mentioned only one of the enemies I have to fear; who, or what is the other.”

      “The other is givin’ way afore your own good sense and judgment, I find, Judith; yes, he’s not as dangerous as I supposed. Howsever, havin’ opened the subject, it will be as well to end it honestly. The first inimy you have to be watchful of, as I’ve already told you, Judith, is oncommon good looks, and the next is an oncommon knowledge of the sarcumstance. If the first is bad, the last doesn’t, in any way, mend the matter, so far as safety and peace of mind are consarned.”

      How much longer the young man would have gone on in his simple and unsuspecting, but well intentioned manner, it might not be easy to say, had he not been interrupted by his listener’s bursting into tears, and giving way to an outbreak of feeling, which was so much the more violent from the fact that it had been with so much difficulty suppressed. At first her sobs were so violent and uncontrollable that Deerslayer was a little appalled, and he was abundantly repentant from the instant that he discovered how much greater was the effect produced by his words than he had anticipated. Even the austere and exacting are usually appeased by the signs of contrition, but the nature of Deerslayer did not require proofs of intense feelings so strong in order to bring him down to a level with the regrets felt by the girl herself. He arose, as if an adder had stung him, and the accents of the mother that soothes her child were scarcely more gentle and winning than the tones of his voice, as he now expressed his contrition at having gone so far.

      “It was well meant, Judith,” he said, “but it was not intended to hurt your feelin’s so much. I have overdone the advice, I see; yes, I’ve overdone it, and I crave your pardon for the same. Fri’ndship’s an awful thing! Sometimes it chides us for not having done enough; and then, ag’in it speaks in strong words for havin’ done too much. Howsever, I acknowledge I’ve overdone the matter, and as I’ve a ra’al and strong regard for you, I rej’ice to say it, inasmuch as it proves how much better you are, than my own vanity and consaits had made you out to be.”

      Judith now removed her hands from her face, her tears had ceased, and she unveiled a countenance so winning with the smile which rendered it even radiant, that the young man gazed at her, for a moment, with speechless delight.

      “Say no more, Deerslayer,” she hastily interposed; “it pains me to hear you find fault with yourself. I know my own weakness, all the better, now I see that you have discovered it; the lesson, bitter as I have found it for a moment, shall not be forgotten. We will not talk any longer of these things, for I do not feel myself brave enough for the undertaking, and I should not like the Delaware, or Hist, or even Hetty, to notice my weakness. Farewell, Deerslayer; may God bless and protect you as your honest heart deserves blessings and protection, and as I must think he will.”

      Judith had so far regained the superiority that properly belonged to her better education, high spirit, and surpassing personal advantages, as to preserve the ascendancy she had thus accidentally obtained, and effectually prevented any return to the subject that was as singularly interrupted, as it had been singularly introduced. The young man permitted her to have every thing her own way, and when she pressed his hard hand in both her own, he made no resistance, but submitted to the homage as quietly, and with quite as matter of course a manner, as a sovereign would have received a similar tribute from a subject, or the mistress from her suitor. Feeling had flushed the face and illuminated the whole countenance of the girl, and her beauty was never more resplendant than when she cast a parting glance at the youth. That glance was filled with anxiety, interest and gentle pity. At the next instant, she darted into the hut and was seen no more, though she spoke to Hist from a window, to inform her that their friend expected her appearance.

      “You know enough of red-skin natur’, and red-skin