Chapter 32

"A baron's chylde to be begylde!
it were a cursed dede:
To be felàwe with an outlàwe!
Almighty God forbede!
Yea, better were, the pore squy
re alone to forest yede,
Then ye sholde say another day,
that by my cursed dede
Ye were betrayed:
wherefore, good mayde,
the best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the grene wode go, alone,
a banyshed man."

Thomas Percy, 'Nutbrowne Mayde,' 11. 265-76 from Reliques of
Ancient English Poetry, Vol. II.

The day that followed proved to be melancholy, though one of much
activity. The soldiers, who had so lately been employed in interring
their victims, were now called on to bury their own dead. The scene
of the morning had left a saddened feeling on all the gentlemen of
the party, and the rest felt the influence of a similar sensation,
in a variety of ways and from many causes. Hour dragged on after
hour until evening arrived, and then came the last melancholy offices
in honor of poor Hetty Hutter. Her body was laid in the lake, by
the side of that of the mother she had so loved and reverenced,
the surgeon, though actually an unbeliever, so far complying with
the received decencies of life as to read the funeral service
over her grave, as he had previously done over those of the other
Christian slain. It mattered not; that all seeing eye which reads
the heart, could not fail to discriminate between the living and
the dead, and the gentle soul of the unfortunate girl was already
far removed beyond the errors, or deceptions, of any human ritual.
These simple rites, however, were not wholly wanting in suitable
accompaniments. The tears of Judith and Hist were shed freely,
and Deerslayer gazed upon the limpid water, that now flowed over
one whose spirit was even purer than its own mountain springs,
with glistening eyes. Even the Delaware turned aside to conceal
his weakness, while the common men gazed on the ceremony with
wondering eyes and chastened feelings.

The business of the day closed with this pious office. By order
of the commanding officer, all retired early to rest, for it was
intended to begin the march homeward with the return of light. One
party, indeed, bearing the wounded, the prisoners, and the trophies,
had left the castle in the middle of the day under the guidance
of Hurry, intending to reach the fort by shorter marches. It had
been landed on the point so often mentioned, or that described
in our opening pages, and, when the sun set, was already encamped
on the brow of the long, broken, and ridgy hills, that fell away
towards the valley of the Mohawk. The departure of this detachment
had greatly simplified the duty of the succeeding day, disencumbering
its march of its