Chapter 7

And is this -- Yarrow? -- this the stream
Of which my fancy cherish'd
So faithfully a waking dream?
An image that hath perish'd?
Oh that some minstrel's harp were near,
To utter notes of gladness,
And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness.
WORDSWORTH.

THE scene was not without its sublimity, and the ardent, generous-minded
Mabel felt her blood thrill in her veins and her cheeks flush, as
the canoe shot into the strength of the stream, to quit the spot.
The darkness of the night had lessened, by the dispersion of the
clouds; but the overhanging woods rendered the shore so obscure,
that the boats floated down the current in a belt of gloom
that effectually secured them from detection. Still, there was
necessarily a strong feeling of insecurity in all on board them;
and even Jasper, who by this time began to tremble, in behalf of
the girl, at every unusual sound that arose from the forest, kept
casting uneasy glances around him as he drifted on in company.
The paddle was used lightly, and only with exceeding care; for the
slightest sound in the breathing stillness of that hour and place
might apprise the watchful ears of the Iroquois of their position.

All these accessories added to the impressive grandeur of
her situation, and contributed to render the moment much the most
exciting which had ever occurred in the brief existence of Mabel
Dunham. Spirited, accustomed to self-reliance, and sustained by
the pride of considering herself a soldier's daughter, she could
hardly be said to be under the influence of fear, yet her heart
often beat quicker than common, her fine blue eye lighted with an
exhibition of a resolution that was wasted in the darkness, and her
quickened feelings came in aid of the real sublimity that belonged
to the scene and to the incidents of the night.

"Mabel!" said the suppressed voice of Jasper, as the two canoes
floated so near each other that the hand of the young man held
them together, "you have no dread? You trust freely to our care
and willingness to protect you?"

"I am a soldier's daughter, as you know, Jasper Western, and ought
to be ashamed to confess fear."

"Rely on me -- on us all. Your uncle, Pathfinder, the Delaware,
were the poor fellow here, I myself, will risk everything rather
than harm should reach you."

"I believe you, Jasper," returned the girl, her hand unconsciously
playing in the water. "I know that my uncle loves me, and
will never think of himself until he has first thought of me; and
I believe you are all my father's friends, and would willingly
assist his child. But I am not so feeble and weak-minded as you
may