Chapter 15

"As long as Edwarde rules thys lande,
Ne quiet you wylle ye know;
Your sonnes and husbandes shall be slayne,
And brookes with bloode shall 'flowe.'

'You leave youre geode and lawfulle kynge,
Whenne ynne adversity;
Like me, untoe the true cause stycke,
And for the true cause dye."

Chatterton.

The calm of evening was again in singular contrast, while its
gathering gloom was in as singular unison with the passions of men.
The sun was set, and the rays of the retiring luminary had ceased
to gild the edges of the few clouds that had sufficient openings
to admit the passage of its fading light. The canopy overhead
was heavy and dense, promising another night of darkness, but the
surface of the lake was scarcely disturbed by a ripple. There was
a little air, though it scarce deserved to be termed wind. Still,
being damp and heavy, it had a certain force. The party in the
castle were as gloomy and silent as the scene. The two ransomed
prisoners felt humbled and discoloured, but their humility partook
of the rancour of revenge. They were far more disposed to remember
the indignity with which they had been treated during the last few
hours of their captivity, than to feel grateful for the previous
indulgence. Then that keen-sighted monitor, conscience, by reminding
them of the retributive justice of all they had endured, goaded
them rather to turn the tables on their enemies than to accuse
themselves. As for the others, they were thoughtful equally from
regret and joy. Deerslayer and Judith felt most of the former
sensation, though from very different causes, while Hetty for the
moment was perfectly happy. The Delaware had also lively pictures
of felicity in the prospect of so soon regaining his betrothed.
Under such circumstances, and in this mood, all were taking the
evening meal.

"Old Tom!" cried Hurry, bursting into a fit of boisterous laughter,
"you look'd amazin'ly like a tethered bear, as you was stretched
on them hemlock boughs, and I only wonder you didn't growl more.
Well, it's over, and syth's and lamentations won't mend the matter!
There's the blackguard Rivenoak, he that brought us off has an
oncommon scalp, and I'd give as much for it myself as the Colony.
Yes, I feel as rich as the governor in these matters now, and will
lay down with them doubloon for doubloon. Judith, darling, did
you mourn for me much, when I was in the hands of the Philipsteins?"

The last were a family of German descent on the Mohawk, to whom
Hurry had a great antipathy, and whom he had confounded with the
enemies of Judea.

"Our tears have raised the lake, Hurry March, as you might have
seen by the shore!" returned Judith, with a