Chapter 12

Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight,
Along the leaguer'd wall, and bristling bank,
Of the arm'd river; while with straggling light,
The stars peep through the vapor, dim and dank.
BYRON.

A few hours later Mabel Dunham was on the bastion that overlooked
the river and the lake, seemingly in deep thought. The evening
was calm and soft, and the question had arisen whether the party
for the Thousand Islands would be able to get out that night or
not, on account of the total absence of wind. The stores, arms,
and ammunition were already shipped, and even Mabel's effects
were on board; but the small draft of men that was to go was still
ashore, there being no apparent prospect of the cutter's getting
under way. Jasper had warped the _Scud_ out of the cove, and so
far up the stream as to enable him to pass through the outlet of the
river whenever he chose; but there he still lay, riding at single
anchor. The drafted men were lounging about the shore of the cove,
undecided whether or not to pull off.

The sports of the morning had left a quiet in the garrison which
was in harmony with the whole of the beautiful scene, and Mabel
felt its influence on her feelings, though probably too little
accustomed to speculate on such sensations to be aware of the
cause. Everything near appeared lovely and soothing, while the
solemn grandeur of the silent forest and placid expanse of the
lake lent a sublimity that other scenes might have wanted. For the
first time, Mabel felt the hold that the towns and civilization
had gained on her habits sensibly weakened; and the warm-hearted
girl began to think that a life passed amid objects such as those
around her might be happy. How far the experience of the last days
came in aid of the calm and holy eventide, and contributed towards
producing that young conviction, may be suspected, rather than
affirmed, in this early portion of our legend.

"A charming sunset, Mabel!" said the hearty voice of her uncle,
so close to the ear of our heroine as to cause her to start, -- "a
charming sunset, girl, for a fresh-water concern, though we should
think but little of it at sea."

"And is not nature the same on shore or at sea -- on a lake like
this or on the ocean? Does not the sun shine on all alike, dear
uncle; and can we not feel gratitude for the blessings of Providence
as strongly on this remote frontier as in our own Manhattan?"

"The girl has fallen in with some of her mother's books. Is
not nature the same, indeed! Now, Mabel, do you imagine that the
nature of a soldier is the same as that of a seafaring man? You've
relations in both callings, and ought to be able to answer."

"But uncle, I mean