The Wept of Wish Ton Wish by James Fenimore Cooper

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Meek groaned audibly, and in real sorrow; for, notwithstanding the veil
which exalted theories and doctrinal subtleties had drawn before his
judgment, the charities of the man were grounded in truth. Bowing to what
he believed to be a mysterious dispensation of the will of Heaven, he
withdrew to a short distance, and, kneeling on a rock, his voice was
heard, during the remainder of the ceremonies lifting its tones in fervent
prayer for the soul of the condemned.

The divine had no sooner quitted the place, than Uncas motioned to Dudley
to approach. Though the nature of the borderer was essentially honest and
kind, he was, in opinions and prejudices, but a creature of the times. If
he had assented to the judgment which committed the captive to the mercy
of his implacable enemies, he had the merit of having suggested the
expedient that was to protect the sufferer from those refinements in
cruelty which the savages were known to be too ready to inflict. He had
even volunteered to be one of the agents to enforce his own expedient,
though, in so doing, he had committed no little violence to his natural
inclinations. The reader will therefore judge of his conduct, in this
particular, with the degree of lenity that a right consideration of the
condition of the country and of the usages of the age may require There
was even a relenting and a yielding of purpose in the countenance of this
witness of the scene, that was favorable to the safety of the captive, as
he now spoke. His address was first to Uncas.

"A happy fortune, Mohegan, something aided by the power of the white men,
hath put this Narragansett into thy hands," he said. "It is certain that
the Commissioners of the Colony have consented that thou shouldst exercise
thy will on his life; but there is a voice in the breast of every human
being, which should be stronger than the voice of revenge, and that is the
voice of mercy. It is not yet too late to hearken to it Take the promise
of the Narragansett for his faith--take more, take a hostage in this
child, which with its mother shall be guarded among the English, and let
the prisoner go."

"My brother asketh with a big mind!" said Uncas, drily.

"I know not how nor why it is I ask with this earnestness," resumed
Dudley, "but there are old recollections and former kindnesses, in the
face and manner of this Indian! And here, too, is one, in the woman, that
I know is tied to some of our settlements, with a bond nearer than that of
common charity--Mohegan, I will add a goodly gift of powder and of
muskets, if thou wilt listen to mercy, and take the faith of the
Narragansett."

Uncas pointed with ironical coldness to his captive, as he said--

"Let Conanchet speak!"

"Thou nearest, Narragansett. If the man I begin to suspect thee to be,
thou knowest something of the usages of the whites. Speak; wilt swear to
keep peace with the Mohegans, and to bury the hatchet in the path between
your villages?"

"The fire that burnt the lodges of my people turned the heart of Conanchet
to stone," was the steady answer.

"Then can I do no more than see the treaty respected," returned Dudley, in
disappointment. "Thou hast thy nature, and it will have way. The Lord have
mercy on thee, Indian, and render thee such judgment as is meet for one of
savage opportunities."

He made a gesture to Uncas that he had done, and fell back a few paces
from the tree, his honest features expressing all his concern, while his
eye did not refuse to do its duty by closely watching each movement of the
adverse parties. At the same instant, the grim attendants of the Mohegan
chief, in obedience to a sign, took their stations on each side of the
captive. They evidently waited for the last and fatal signal, to complete
their unrelenting purpose. At this grave moment there was a pause, as if
each of the principal actors pondered serious matter in his inmost mind.

"The Narragansett hath not spoken to his woman," said Uncas, secretly
hoping that his enemy might yet betray some unmanly weakness, in a moment
of so severe trial. "She is near."

"I said my heart was stone;" coldly returned the Narragansett.

"See--the girl creepeth like a frightened fowl among the leaves. If my
brother Conanchet will look, he will see his beloved."

The countenance of Conanchet grew dark, but it did not waver.

"We will go among the bushes, if the Sachem is afraid to speak to his
woman with the eyes of a Mohican on him. A warrior is not a curious girl,
that he wishes to see the sorrow of a chief!"

Conanchet felt, hurriedly, for some weapon that might strike his enemy to
the earth, and then a low murmuring sound at his elbow stole so softly on
his ear, as suddenly to divert the tempest of passion.

"Will not a Sachem look at his boy?" demanded the suppliant. "It is the
son of a great warrior: why is the face of his father so dark on him?"

Narrah-mattah had drawn near enough to her husband, to be within reach of
his hand. With extended arms she held the pledge of their former
happiness towards the chief, as if to beseech a last and kindly look of
recognition and love.

"Will not the great Narragansett look at his boy?" she repeated, in a
voice that sounded like the lowest notes of some touching melody. "Why is
his face so dark, on a woman of his tribe?"

Even the stern features of the Mohegan Sagamore showed that he was
touched. Beckoning to his grim attendants to move behind the tree, he
turned and walked aside, with the noble air of a savage, when influenced
by his better feelings. Then light shot into the clouded countenance of
Conanchet. His eyes sought the face of his stricken and grieved consort,
who mourned less for his danger than she grieved for his displeasure. He
received the boy from her hands, and studied his features long and
intently. Beckoning to Dudley, who alone gazed on the scene, he placed the
infant in his arms.

"See!" he said, pointing to the child; "it is a blossom of the clearings.
It will not live in the shade."

He then fastened a look on his trembling partner There was a husband's
love in the glance. "Flower of the open land!" he said; "the Manitou of
thy race will place thee in the fields of thy fathers. The sun will shine
upon thee, and the winds from beyond the salt lake will blow the clouds
into the woods. A Just and Great Chief cannot shut his ear to the Good
Spirit of his people. Mine calls his son to hunt among the braves that
have gone on the long path; thine points another way. Go, hear his voice,
and obey. Let thy mind be like a wide clearing; let all its shadows be
next the woods; let it forget the dream it dreamt among the trees. 'Tis
the will of the Manitou."

"Conanchet asketh much of his wife; her son is only the soul of a woman!"

"A woman of the Pale-faces; now let her seek her tribe. Narra-mattah, thy
people speak strange traditions. They say that one just man died for all
colors. I know not. Conanchet is a child among the cunning, and a man with
the warriors. If this be true, he will look for his woman and boy in the
happy hunting-grounds, and they will come to him. There is no hunter of
the Yengeese that can kill so many deer. Let Narra-mattah forget her chief
till that time, and then, when she calls him by name, let her speak
strong, for he will be very glad to hear her voice again. Go; a Sagamore
is about to start on a long journey. He takes leave of his wife with a
heavy spirit. She will put a little flower of two colors before her eyes,
and be happy in its growth. Now let her go. A Sagamore is about to die."

The attentive woman caught each slow and measured syllable, as one trained
in superstitious legends would listen to the words of an oracle. But,
accustomed to obedience and bewildered with her grief, she hesitated no
longer. The head of Narra-mattah sunk on her bosom, as she left him, and
her face was buried in her robe. The step with which she passed Uncas was
so light as to be inaudible; but when he saw her tottering form, turning
swiftly, he stretched an arm high in the air. The terrible mutes just
showed themselves from behind the tree, and vanished. Conanchet started,
and it seemed as if he were about to plunge forward; but, recovering
himself by a desperate effort, his body sunk back against the tree, and he
fell in the attitude of a chief seated in council. There was a smile of
fierce triumph on his face, and his lips evidently moved. Uncas did not
breathe, as he bent forward to listen:--

"Mohican, I die before my heart is soft!" uttered firmly, but with a
struggle, reached his ears. Then came two long and heavy respirations. One
was the returning breath of Uncas, and the other the dying sigh of the
last Sachem of the broken and dispersed tribe of the Narragansetts.

Chapter XXXII.

"Each lonely scene shall thee restore;
For thee the tear be duly shed:
Beloved till life could charm no more,
And mourn'd till pity's self be dead."

Collins.

An hour later, and the principal actors in the foregoing scene had
disappeared. There remained only the widowed Narra-mattah, with Dudley,
the divine, and Whittal Ring.

The body of Conanchet still continued, where he had died, seated like a
chief in council. The daughter of Content and Ruth had stolen to its side,
and she had taken her seat, in that species of dull woe, which so
frequently attends the first moments of any unexpected and overwhelming
affliction. She neither spoke, sobbed, nor sorrowed in anyway that grief
is wont to affect the human system. The mind seemed palsied, though a
withering sense of the blow was fearfully engraven on every lineament of
her eloquent face. The color had deserted her cheeks, the lips were
bloodless, while, at moments, they quivered convulsively, like the
tremulous movement of the sleeping infant; and, at long intervals, her
bosom heaved, as if the spirit within struggled heavily to escape from its
earthly prison. The child lay unheeded at her side, and Whittal Ring had
placed himself on the opposite side of the corpse.

The two agents, appointed by the Colony to witness the death of Conanchet,
stood near, gazing mournfully on the piteous spectacle. The instant the
spirit of the condemned man had fled, the prayers of the divine had
ceased, for he believed that then the soul had gone to judgment. But there
was more of human charity, and less of that exaggerated severity in his
aspect, than was ordinarily seated in the deep lines of his austere
countenance. Now that the deed was done, and the excitement of his exalted
theories had given way to the more positive appearance of the result, he
might even have moments of harassing doubts concerning the lawfulness of
an act that he had hitherto veiled under the forms of a legal and
necessary execution of justice. The mind of Eben Dudley vacillated with
none of the subtleties of doctrine or of law. As there had been less
exaggeration in his original views of the necessity of the proceeding, so
was there more steadiness in his contemplation of its fulfilment.
Feelings, they might be termed emotions, of a different nature troubled
the breast of this resolute but justly-disposed borderer.

"This hath been a melancholy visitation of necessity, and a severe
manifestation of the foreordering will," said the Ensign, as he gazed at
the sad spectacle before him. "Father and son have both died, as it were,
in my presence, and both have departed for the world of spirits, in a
manner to prove the inscrutableness of Providence. But dost not see, here,
in the face of her who looketh like a form of stone, traces of a
countenance that is familiar?"

"Thou hast allusion to the consort of Captain Content Heathcote?"

"Truly, to her only. Thou art not, reverend sir, of sufficient residence
at the Wish-Ton-Wish, to remember that lady in her youthfulness. But to
me, the hour when the Captain led his followers into the wilderness,
seemeth but as a morning of the past season. I was then active in limb,
and something idle in reflection and discourse; it was in that journey,
that the woman who is now the mother of my children and I first made
acquaintance. I have seen many comely females in my time, but never did I
look on one so pleasant to the eye, as was the consort of the Captain
until the night of the burning. Thou hast often heard the loss she then
met, and, from that hour, her beauty hath been that of the October leaf
rather than its loveliness in the season of fertility. Now look on the
face of this mourner, and say if there be not here such an image as the
water reflects from the overhanging bush. In verity, I could believe it
was the sorrowing eye and bereaved look of the mother herself!"

"Grief hath struck its blow heavily on this unoffending victim," uttered
Meek, with great and subdued softness in his manner. "The voice of
petition must be raised in her behalf, or----"

"Hist!--there are some in the forest; I hear the rustling of leaves!"

"The voice of him, who made the earth, whispereth in the winds; his breath
is the movement of nature!"

"Here are living men!--But, happily, the meeting is friendly, and there
will be no further occasion for strife. The heart of a father is sure as
ready eye and swift foot."

Dudley suffered his musket to fall at his side, and both he and his
companion stood in attitudes of decent composure, to await the arrival of
those who approached. The party that drew near, arrived on the side of the
tree opposite to that on which the death of Conanchet had occurred. The
enormous trunk and swelling roots of the pine concealed the group at its
feet, but the persons of Meek and the Ensign were soon observed. The
instant they were discovered, he who led the new-comers bent his footsteps
in that direction.

"If, as thou hast supposed, the Narragansett hath again led her thou hast
so long mourned into the forest," said Submission, who acted as guide to
those who followed, "here are we, at no great distance from the place of
his resort. It was near yon rock that he gave the meeting with the
bloody-minded Philip, and the place where I received the boon of an
useless and much-afflicted life from his care, is within the bosom of that
thicket which borders the brook. This minister of the Lord, and our stout
friend the Ensign, may have further matter to tell us of his movements."

The speaker had stopped within a short distance of the two he named, but
still on the side of the tree opposite to that where the body lay. He had
addressed his words to Content, who also halted to await the arrival of
Ruth, who came in the rear, supported by her son, and attended by Faith
and the physician, all equipped like persons engaged in a search through
the forest. A mother's heart had sustained the feeble woman for many a
weary mile, but her steps had begun to drag, shortly before they so
happily fell upon the signs of human beings, near the spot where they now
met the two agents of the Colony.

Notwithstanding the deep interest which belonged to the respective
pursuits of the individuals who composed these two parties, the interview
was opened with no lively signs of feeling on either side. To them a
journey in the forest possessed no novelties, and after traversing its
mazes for a day, the newly-arrived encountered their friends, as men meet
on more beaten tracks, in countries where roads unavoidably lead them to
cross each other's paths. Even the appearance of Submission in front of
the travellers, elicited no marks of surprise in the unmoved features of
those who witnessed his approach. Indeed, the mutual composure of on who
had so long concealed his person, and of those who had more than once seen
him in striking and mysterious situations, might well justify a belief
that the secret of his presence near the valley had not been confined to
the family of the Heathcotes. This fact is rendered still more probable,
by the recollection of the honesty of Dudley, and of the professional
characters of the two others.

"We are on the trail of one fled, as the truant fawn seeketh again the
covers of the woods," said Content. "Our hunt was uncertain, and it might
have been vain, so many feet have lately crossed the forest, were it not
that Providence hath cast our route on that of our friend, here, who hath
had reason to know the probable situation of the Indian camp. Hast seen
aught of the Sachem of the Narragansetts, Dudley? and where are those thou
led'st against the subtle Philip? That thou fell upon his party, we have
heard; though further than thy general success, we have yet to learn. The
Wampanoag escaped thee?"

"The wicked agencies that back him in his designs, profited the savage in
his extremity. Else would his fate have been that which I fear a far
worthier spirit hath been doomed to suffer."

"Of whom dost speak?--but it mattereth not We seek our child; she, whom
thou hast known, and whom thou hast so lately seen, hath again left us. We
seek her in the camp of him who hath been to her--Dudley, hast seen aught
of the Narragansett Sachem?"

The Ensign looked at Ruth, as he had once before been seen to gaze on-the
sorrowing features of the woman; but he spoke not. Meek folded his arms on
his breast, and seemed to pray inwardly. There was, however, one who broke
the silence, though his tones were low and menacing.

"It was a bloody deed!" muttered the innocent. "The lying Mohican hath
struck a Great Chief, from behind. Let him dig the prints of his moccason
from the earth, with his nails, like a burrowing fox: for there'll be one
on his trail, before he can hide his head. Nipset will be a warrior the
next snow!"

"There speaks my witless brother!" exclaimed Faith, rushing ahead--she
recoiled, covered her face with her hands, and sunk upon the ground, under
the violence of the surprise that followed.

Though time moved with his ordinary pace, it appeared to those who
witnessed the scene which succeeded, as if the emotions of many days were
collected within the brief compass of a few minutes. We shall not dwell on
the first harrowing and exciting moments of the appalling discovery.

A short half-hour served to make each person acquainted with all that it
was necessary to know. We shall therefore transfer the narrative to the
end of that period.

The body of Conanchet still rested against the tree. The eyes were open,
and though glazed in death, there still remained about the brow, the
compressed lips, and the expansive nostrils, much of that lofty firmness
which had sustained him in the last trial of life. The arms were passive
at its sides, but one hand was clenched in the manner with which it had so
often grasped the tomahawk, while the other had lost its power in a vain
effort to seek the place in the girdle where the keen knife should have
been. These two movements had probably been involuntary, for, in all other
respects, the form was expressive of dignity and repose. At its side, the
imaginary Nipset still held his place menacing discontent betraying itself
through the ordinary dull fatuity of his countenance.

The others present were collected around the mother and her stricken
child. It would seem that all other feelings were, for the moment,
absorbed in apprehensions for the latter. There was much reason to dread,
that the recent shock had suddenly deranged some of that fearful machinery
which links the soul to the body. This dreaded effect, however, was more
to be apprehended by a general apathy and failing of the system, than by
any violent and intelligible symptom.

The pulses still vibrated, but it was heavily, and like the irregular and
faltering evolutions of the mill, which the dying breeze is ceasing to
fan. The pallid countenance was fixed in its expression of anguish. Color
there was none, even the lips resembling the unnatural character which is
given by images of wax. Her limbs, like her features, were immovable; and
yet there was, at moments, a working of the latter, which would seem to
imply not only consciousness, but vivid and painful recollections of the
realities of her situation.

"This surpasseth my art," said Doctor Ergot, raising himself from a long
and silent examination of the pulse; "there is a mystery in the
construction of the body, which human knowledge hath not yet unveiled. The
currents of existence are sometimes frozen in an incomprehensible manner,
and this I conceive to be a case that would confound the most learned of
our art, even in the oldest countries of the earth. It hath been my
fortune to see many arrive and but few depart from this busy world, and
yet do I presume to foretell that here is one destined to quit its limits
ere the natural number of her days has been filled!"

"Let us address ourselves, in behalf of that which shall never die, to Him
who hath ordered the event from the commencement of time," said Meek,
motioning to those around him to join in prayer.

The divine then lifted up his voice, under the arches of the forest, in
an ardent, pious, and eloquent petition. When this solemn duty was
performed, attention was again bestowed on the sufferer. To the surprise
of all, it was found that the blood had revisited her face, and that her
radiant eyes were lighted with an expression of brightness and peace. She
even motioned to be raised, in order that those near her person might be
better seen.

"Dost know us?" asked the trembling Ruth. "Look on thy friends,
long-mourned and much-suffering daughter! 'Tis she who sorrowed over thy
infant afflictions, who rejoiced in thy childish happiness, and who hath
so bitterly wept thy loss, that craveth the boon. In this awful moment,
recall the lessons of youth. Surely, surely, the God that bestowed thee in
mercy, though he hath led thee on a wonderful and inscrutable path, will
not desert thee at the end! Think of thy early instruction, child of my
love; feeble of spirit as thou art, the seed may yet quicken, though it
hath been cast where the glory of the promise hath so long been hid."

"Mother!" said a low struggling voice in reply The word reached every ear,
and it caused a general and breathless attention. The sound was soft and
low, perhaps infantile, but it was uttered without accent, and clearly.

"Mother--why are we in the forest?" continued the speaker. "Have any
robbed us of our home, that we dwell beneath the trees?"

Ruth raised a hand imploringly, for none to interrupt the illusion.

"Nature hath revived the recollections of her youth," she whispered. "Let
the spirit-depart, if such be his holy will, in the blessedness of infant
innocence!"

"Why do Mark and Martha stay?" continued the other. "It is not safe, thou
knowest, mother, to wander far in the woods; the heathen may be out of
their towns, and one cannot say what evil chance might happen to the
indiscreet."

A groan struggled from the chest of Content, and the muscular hand of
Dudley compressed itself on the shoulder of his wife, until the
breathlessly attentive woman withdrew, unconsciously, with pain.

"I've said as much to Mark, for he doth not always remember thy
warnings, mother; and those children do so love to wander together!--but
Mark is, in common, good; do not chide, if he stray too far--mother,
thou wilt not chide!"

The youth turned his head, for even at that moment, the pride of young
manhood prompted him to conceal his weakness.

"Hast prayed to-day, my daughter?" said Ruth, struggling to be composed.
"Thou shouldst not forget thy duty to His blessed name, even though we are
houseless in the woods."

"I will pray now, mother," said the creature of this mysterious
hallucination, struggling to bow her face into the lap of Ruth. Her wish
was indulged, and for a minute, the same low childish voice was heard
distinctly repeating the words of a prayer adapted to the earliest period
of life. Feeble as were the sounds, none of their intonations escaped the
listeners, until near the close, when a species of holy calm seemed to
absorb the utterance. Ruth raised the form of her child, and saw that the
features bore the placid look of a sleeping infant. Life played upon them,
as the flickering light lingers on the dying torch. Her dove-like eyes
looked up into the face of Ruth, and the anguish of the mother was
alleviated by a smile of intelligence and love. The full and sweet organs
next rolled from face to face, recognition and pleasure accompanying each
change. On Whittal they became perplexed and doubtful, but when they met
the fixed, frowning, and still commanding eye of the dead chief, their
wandering ceased for ever. There was a minute, during which, fear, doubt,
wildness, and early recollections, struggled for the mastery. The hands of
Narra-mattah trembled, and she clung convulsively to the robe of Ruth.

"Mother!--mother!--" whispered the agitated victim of so many conflicting
emotions, "I will pray again--an evil Spirit besets me."

Ruth felt the force of her grasp, and heard the breathing of a few words
of petition; after which the voice was mute, and the hands relaxed their
hold. When the face of the nearly insensible parent was withdrawn, to the
others the dead appeared to gaze at each other with a mysterious and
unearthly intelligence. The look of the Narragansett was still, as in his
hour of pride, haughty, unyielding, and filled with defiance; while that
of the creature who had so long lived in his kindness was perplexed,
timid, but not without a character of hope. A solemn calm succeeded, and
when Meek raised his voice again in the forest, it was to ask the
Omnipotent Ruler of Heaven and Earth to sanctify his dispensation to those
who survived.

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