Chapter 21 - Page 2

that were
suited to her character, while the impression made on the simpler
mind of her sister was perhaps less lively, though it might well
have proved more lasting.

"Oh! Judith," exclaimed the weak minded girl, as soon as their
first care had been bestowed on sufferer. "Father went for scalps,
himself, and now where is his own? The Bible might have foretold
this dreadful punishment!"

"Hush, Hetty - hush, poor sister - He opens his eyes; he may hear
and understand you. 'Tis as you say and think, but 'tis too dreadful
to speak."

"Water," ejaculated Hutter, as it might be by a desperate effort,
that rendered his voice frightfully deep and strong for one as near
death as he evidently was - "Water - foolish girls - will you let
me die of thirst?"

Water was brought and administered to the sufferer; the first he
had tasted in hours of physical anguish. It had the double effect
of clearing his throat and of momentarily reviving his sinking
system. His eyes opened with that anxious, distended gaze which
is apt to accompany the passage of a soul surprised by death, and
he seemed disposed to speak.

"Father," said Judith, inexpressibly pained by his deplorable
situation, and this so much the more from her ignorance of what
remedies ought to be applied - "Father, can we do any thing for
you? Can Hetty and I relieve your pain?"

"Father!" slowly repeated the old man. "No, Judith; no, Hetty -I'm
no father. She was your mother, but I'm no father. Look in the
chest - Tis all there - give me more water."

The girls complied, and Judith, whose early recollections extended
farther back than her sister's, and who on every account had more
distinct impressions of the past, felt an uncontrollable impulse of
joy as she heard these words. There had never been much sympathy
between her reputed father and herself, and suspicions of this very
truth had often glanced across her mind, in consequence of dialogues
she had overheard between Hutter and her mother. It might be going
too far to say she had never loved him, but it is not so to add
that she rejoiced it was no longer a duty. With Hetty the feeling
was different. Incapable of making all the distinctions of her
sister, her very nature was full of affection, and she had loved
her reputed parent, though far less tenderly than the real parent,
and it grieved her now to hear him declare he was not naturally
entitled to that love. She felt a double grief, as if his death and
his words together were twice depriving her of parents. Yielding
to her feelings, the poor girl went aside and wept.

The very opposite emotions of the two girls kept