Chapter 14 - Page 2

and all she most loved were suddenly
confronted to the most frightful exhibition of human horrors. In such a
moment, the feelings of a mother were likely to revive; and ere time was
given for reflection, aided by the light of the conflagration, the matron
was moving swiftly through the intricate passages of the dwelling, in
quest of those whom she had placed in the security of the chambers.

"Thou hast remembered to avoid looking on the fields, my children," said
the nearly breathless woman as she entered the room. "Be thankful, babes;
hitherto the efforts of the savages have been vain and we still remain
masters of our habitations."

"Why is the night so red? Come hither, mother thou mayest look into the
wood as if the sun were shining!"

"The heathens have fired our granaries, and what thou seest is the light
of the flames. But happily they cannot put brand into the dwellings, while
thy father and the young men stand to their weapons. We must be grateful
for this security, frail as it seemeth. Thou hast knelt, my Ruth; and hast
remembered to think of thy father and brother in thy prayers."

"I will do so again, mother," whispered the child, bending to her knees,
and wrapping her young features in the garments of the matron.

"Why hide thy countenance? One young and innocent as thou, may lift thine
eyes to Heaven with confidence."

"Mother, I see the Indian, unless my face be hid. He looketh at me, I
fear, with wish to do us harm."

"Thou art not just to Miantonimoh, child," answered Ruth, as she glanced
her eye rapidly round to seek the boy, who had modestly withdrawn into a
remote and shaded corner of the room. "I left him with thee for a
guardian, and not as one who would wish to injure. Now think of thy God,
child," imprinting a kiss on the cold, marble-like forehead of her
daughter, "and have reliance in his goodness. Miantonimoh, I again leave
you with a charge, to be their protector," she added, quitting her
daughter and advancing towards the youth.

"Mother!" shrieked the child, "come to me, or I die!"

Ruth turned from the listening captive, with the quickness of instinct. A
glance showed her the jeopardy of her offspring. A naked savage, dark,
powerful of frame, and fierce in the frightful masquerade of his
war-paint, stood winding the silken hair of the girl in one hand, while he
already held the glittering axe above a head that seemed inevitably
devoted to destruction.

"Mercy! mercy!" exclaimed Ruth, hoarse with horror, and dropping to her
knees, as much from inability to stand as with intent to petition.
"Monster, strike