Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/26



Rh had been removed from the apartment, and no one would have thought that in the now quiet room had, only a few hours before, raged the sound of mortal strife.

"And you will have us again to explain how we arrived so opportunely to your rescue," said the brother of Jane in his frank voice, "well-they say the curiosity of your sex is never satisfied-but I should not be so gay, you would say by that glance of your eye, Helen-was it not so? Well, though I cannot help being glad, very glad, yet I will sober down my expressions for once.

“You know that I left you to go to the fort, intending to return a couple of hours before nightfall, -but when I got half way to the place I struck an Indian trail, and following it up with astonishment, I saw that it led back of the fort and down the valley. I was beyond measure surprised, for the savages had never penetrated to our vicinity. I reflected a moment, hesitating whether to return home and get you to a place of safety or to hurry on to the fort and give the alarm. As the trail did not appear to run in this direction, I fancied there would be no danger in leaving you an hour or two longer, especially when I knew that hastening instantly to the fort I might be the means of saving many lives. Accordingly I hurried forward and reached my journey's end a few minutes before the arrival of Captain Stanworth, who had been despatched to protect the valley, information having reached head-quarters, through intercepted letters, of an intention, on the part of the savages, to make a descent in this vicinity. Almost at the same instant a scout came in who had struck the Indian trail below the fort, and who communicated the alarming intelligence that the trail had turned off towards our section of the valley. We felt that not a moment was to be lost, but with most of the captain's company and such of the neighbors who chose to volunteer, hurried hither. Some delay, however, had by this time occurred, and though we proceeded forwards at a most rapid pace, we arrived barely in time to rescue you. Nor could we have saved you had the savages maintained as keen a watch for foes as usual; but managing to surprise the assailants they fell an easy prey. The noise made by them in hewing at the door prevented you and them from hearing our approach. Providentially catching sight of a savage springing in at the casement, I dashed to the open window, and—you know the rest. We have no doubt extirpated the whole of the band, but tomorrow we will, to ensure your safety, conduct you to the fort, and scour the country for the barbarians."

Our story is done. We will, however, add that the valley was never again disturbed by an irruption of Indians, and that the following summer beheld the realization of the picture described by Jane- for Stanworth retiring from the service was united to the heroic girl, while, on the same day, Helen gave her hand to the choice of her heart. The two families took up their residence within a few minutes walk of each other, and to this day their descendants inhabit the old homesteads.

They say your hair is brown, love, I never thought to look, Your face entranced my soul, love, As some romantic book,— I never scanned its features, They all uncertain seem, Yet lovely as an angel's, An angel's in a dream.

Thy brow is ever holy, And calm as midnight skies Within whose lofty portals Full many a wonder lies, Its purity and brightness I silent sit and trace, As worshippers up-looking Into the Virgin's face.

Thou speakest in thy blushes, So innocent thou art— And ev'ry gentle feeling That flits across the heart, And all the wild emotions That o'er its surface pass, Thy roseate cheek revealeth, As through a clouded glass.

The soul from out thine eyes, love, Unceasingly doth shine, A softened light they shed, love, As from an inner shrine Behind whose shadowy curtain We only dimly see, Yet rapt with mystic beauty We bow, a devotee!

Thine eyes are full of gladness, My own Euphrosyne! And sparkle in their laughter, With overflowing glee,— So bright seems life before thee, So guileless all thou art, That mirth, as from a fountain, Is gushing at thy heart.

And thou alas! art absent Yet still thy blue-eyes seem To smile upon me sweetly In many a waking dream; And oft in midnight slumbers Thy wavy form I see, And hear a trembling whisper They tell me, love, of thee! BETA