"Pathfinder!-Oh! this is worse than I could have imagined-take my hand, excent Pathfinder, and let me see that you do not hate me." The Pathfinder, p. 121. THE HUNTER REJECTED. certain that I do not think better of you than of any other; for your truth, honesty, simplicity, justice, and courage, are scarcely equalled by any of earth." "Ah! Mabel!-these are sweet and encouraging words from you, and the sergeant, a'ter all, was not as near wrong as I feared." 121 "Hate you, Mabel!-Smile upon you!-Ah's me!" "Nay, give me your hand; your hardy, true, and manly hand-both, both, Pathfinder, for I shall not be easy until I feel certain that we are friends again, and that all this has been a mistake." แ Nay, Pathfinder-in the name of all that is sacred and just, do not let us misunderstand each other in a matter of so much importance. While I esteem, respect-nay, reverence you, almost as much as I reverence my own dear father, it is impossible that I should ever become your wife -that I-" The change in her companion's countenance was so sudden and so great, that the moment the effect of what she had uttered became visible in the face of the Pathfinder, Mabel arrested her own words, notwithstanding her strong desire to be explicit, the reluctance with which she could at any time cause pain being sufficient of itself to induce the pause. Neither spoke for some time, the shade of disappointment that crossed the rugged lineaments of the hunter amounting so nearly to anguish, as to frighten his companion, while the sensation of choking became so strong in the Pathfinder, that he fairly griped his throat, like one who sought physical relief for physical suffering. The convulsive manner in which his fingers worked actually struck the alarmed girl with a feeling of awe. "Nay, Pathfinder," Mabel eagerly added, the instant she could command her voice-"I may have said more than I mean, for all things of this nature are possible, and women, they say, are never sure of their own minds. What I wish you to understand is, that it is not likely that you and I should ever think of each other, as man and wife ought to think of each other." "I do not-I shall never think in that way again, Mabel-" gasped forth the Pathfinder, who appeared to utter his words like one just raised above the pressure of some suffocating substance. "No-no-I shall never think of you, or any one else, again, in that way." "Pathfinder - dear Pathfinder-understand me-do not attach more meaning to my words than I do myself-a match like that would be unwise unnatural, perhaps." "Yes, unnatʼral — ag'in natur'; and so I told the sergeant, but he would have it otherwise." "Pathfinder!-Oh! this is worse than I could have imagined-take my hand, excellent Pathfinder, and let me see that you do not hate me. For God's sake, smile upon me again!" 'Mabel," said the guide, looking wistfully into the face of the generous and impetuous girl, as she held his two hard and sunburnt hands in her own pretty and delicate fingers, and laughing in his own silent and peculiar manner, while anguish gleamed over lineaments which seemed incapable of deception, even while agitated with emotions so conflicting, "Mabel, the sargeant was wrong!" The pent-up feelings could endure no more, and the tears rolled down the cheeks of the scout like rain. His fingers again worked convulsively at his throat, and his breast heaved, as if it possessed a tenant of which it would be rid, by any effort, however desperate. "Pathfinder!-Pathfinder!" Mabel almost shrieked,-"anything but this - anything but this. Speak to me, Pathfinder, - smile again— say one kind word-any thing to prove you can forgive me." "The sargeant was wrong!" exclaimed the guide, laughing amid his agony, in a way to terrify his companion by the unnatural mixture of anguish and light-heartedness. "I knew it-I knew it, and said it; yes, the sargeant was wrong, a'ter all." "We can be friends, though we cannot be man and wife," continued Mabel, almost as much disturbed as her companion, scarce knowing what she said; "we can always be friends, and always will." "I thought the sargeant was mistaken,” resumed the Pathfinder, when a great effort had enabled him to command himself, "for I did not think my gifts were such as would please the fancy of a town-bred gal. It would have been better, Mabel, had he not over-persuaded me into a different notion; and it might have been better, too, had you not been so pleasant and friendly, like; yes, it would." "If I thought any error of mine had raised false expectations in you, Pathfinder, however unintentionally on my part, I should never for| give myself; for, believe me, I would rather endure pain in my own feelings than you should suffer." "That's just it, Mabel; that's just it. These speeches and opinions, spoken in so soft a voice, and in a way I'm so unused to in the woods, have done the mischief. But I now see plainly, | in such feelings, I wouldn't wish to cause even a and begin to understand the difference between Mingo sorrow on this head. But happiness is us better, and will strive to keep down thought, not always to be found in a marquee, any more and to go abroad ag'in as I used to do, looking than in a tent; and, though the officers' quarters for the game and the inimy. Ah's me! Mabel, may look more tempting than the rest of the I have indeed been on a false trail since we met!" barracks, there is often great misery between "But you will now travel on the true one. In husband and wife inside of their doors." a little while you will forget all this, and think of me as a friend who owes you her life." This may be the way in the towns, but I doubt if it's nat'ral to the woods. With us, when the eye sees a lovely sight, it is apt to keep it long in view, or, when the mind takes in an upright and proper feeling, it is loath to part with it." "But it is not a proper feeling that you should love me, nor am I a lovely sight. You will forget it all, when you come seriously to recollect that I am altogether unsuited to be your wife." "So I told the sargeant—but he would have it otherwise. I knew you was too young and beautiful for one of middle age, like myself, and who never was comely to look at, even in youth; and then your ways have not been my ways, nor would a hunter's cabin be a fitting place for one who was edicated among chiefs, as it were. If I were younger and comelier, though, like Jasper Eau-douce—” "Never mind Jasper Eau-douce," interrupted Mabel, impatiently; we can talk of something else." "Jasper is a worthy lad, Mabel; ay, and a comely," returned the guileless guide, looking earnestly at the girl, as if he distrusted her judgment in speaking slightingly of his friend. "Were I only half as comely as Jasper Western, my misgivings in this affair would not have been so great, and they might not have been so true." "We will not talk of Jasper Western," repeated Mabel, the color mounting to her temples; "he may be good enough in a gale or on the lake, but he is not good enough to talk of here." "I fear me, Mabel, he is better than the man who is likely to be your husband, though the sargeant says that never can take place. But the sargeant was wrong once, and he may be wrong twice." "I do not doubt it in the least, Pathfinder; and, did it rest with me to decide, I would sooner follow you to some cabin in the woods, and share your fortune, whether it might be better or worse, than go inside the door of any officer I know, with an intention of remaining there as its master's wife." "Mabel, this is not what Lundie hopes or Lundie thinks!" "And what care I for Lundie? He is major of the 55th, and may command his men to wheel and march about as he pleases, but he cannot compel me to wed the greatest or the meanest of his mess besides, what can you know of Lun die's wishes on such a subject? "From Lundie's own mouth. The sargeant had told him that he wished me for a son-in-law; and the major, being an old and a true friend, conversed with me on the subject: he put it to me plainly, whether it would not be more ginerous in me to let an officer succeed, than to strive to make you share a hunter's fortune. I owned the truth, I did; and that was, that I thought it might; but when he told me that the quartermaster would be his choice, I would not abide by the conditions. No-no-Mabel; I know Davy Muir well, and though he may make you a lady, he can never make you a happy woman, or himself a gentleman. I say this honestly, I do; for I now plainly see that the sargeant has been wrong." "My father has been very wrong if he has said or done aught to cause you sorrow, Pathfinder; and so great is my respect for you, so sincere my friendship, that were it not for one -I mean that no person need fear Lieutenant Muir's influence with me. I would rather remain as I am to my dying day, than become a lady at the cost of being his wife." "I do not think you would say that which you do not feel, Mabel," returned Pathfinder, ear "And who is likely to be my husband, Path-nestly. finder? This is scarcely less strange than what has just passed between us!” "I know it is nat'ral for like to seek like, and, for them that have consorted much with officers' ladies, to wish to be officers' ladies themselves. But, Mabel, I may speak plainly to you, I know, and I hope my words will not give you pain, for, now I understand what it is to be disappointed "Not at such a moment, on such a subject, and least of all to you. No; Lieutenant Muir may find wives where he can-my name shall never be on his catalogue." "Thank you thank you for that, Mabel; for, though there is no longer any hope for me, I could never be happy were you to take to the quartermaster. I feared the commission might A LOVER'S DREAM. count for something, I did, and I know the man. It is not jealousy that makes me speak in this manner, but truth, for I know the man. Now, were you to fancy a desarving youth, one like Jasper Western, for instance-" ་་ "Why always mention Jasper Eau-douce, Pathfinder? he can have no concern with our friendship; let us talk of yourself, and of the manner in which you intend to pass the winter." "Ah's me!--I'm little worth at the best, Mabel, unless it may be on a trail, or with the rifle ; and less worth now that I've discovered the sargeant's mistake. There is no need, therefore, of talking of me. It has been very pleasant to me to be near you so long, and even to fancy that the sargeant was right; but that is all over now. I shall go down the lake with Jasper, and then there will be business to occupy us, and that will keep useless thoughts out of the mind." "And you will forget this-forget me-no, not forget me either, Pathfinder; but you will resume your old pursuits, and cease to think a girl of sufficient importance to disturb your peace?" "I never know'd it afore, Mabel, but girls, as you call them, though gals is the name I've been taught to use, are of more account in this life than I could have believed. Now, afore I know'd you, the new-born babe did not sleep more sweetly than I used to could; my head was no sooner on the root, or the stone, or mayhap on the skin, than all was lost to the senses, unless it might be to go over in the night the business of the day, in a dream, like; and there I lay till the moment came to be stirring, and the swallows were not more certain to be on the wing with the light, than I to be afoot at the moment I wished to be. All this seemed a gift, and might be calculated on, even in the midst of a Mingo camp; for I've been outlying, in my time, in the very villages of the vagabonds." “And all this will return to you, Pathfinder; for one so upright and sincere will never waste his happiness on a mere fancy. You will dream again of your hunts, of the deer you have slain, and of the beaver you have taken." "Ah's me, Mabel, I wish never to dream again! Before we met I had a sort of pleasure in following up the hounds in fancy, as it might be; and even in striking a trail of the Iroquois nay, I've been in skrimmages and ambushments in thought, like, and found satisfaction in it, according to my gifts; but all those things have lost their charms since I've made acquaintance with you. Now, I think no longer of any thing rude in my dreams, but, the very last night we 123 | stayed in the garrison, I imagined I had a cabin in a grove of sugar maples, and at the root of every tree was a Mabel Dunham, while the birds that were among the branches sang ballads, instead of the notes that natur' gave, and even the deer stopped to listen. I tried to shoot a fa'an, but Killdeer missed fire, and the creatur' laughed in my face, as pleasantly as a young girl laughs in her merriment, and then it bounded away, looking back as if expecting me to follow." "No more of this, Pathfinder-we'll talk no more of these things," said Mabel, dashing the tears from her eyes; for the simple, earnest manner in which this hardy woodsman betrayed the deep hold she had taken of his feelings, nearly proved too much for her own generous heart. "Now let us look for my father; he cannot be distant, as I heard his gun quite near." "The sargeant was wrong-yes, he was wrong, and it's of no use to attempt to make the dove consort with the wolf." "Here comes my dear father," interrupted Mabel; "let us look cheerful and happy, Pathfinder, as such good friends ought to look, and keep each other's secrets." A pause succeeded; the sergeant's foot was heard crushing the dried twigs hard by, and then his form appeared shoving aside the bushes of a copse quite near. As he issued into the open ground the old soldier scrutinized his daughter and her companion, and, speaking good-naturedly, he said: "Mabel, child, you are young and light of foot-look for a bird I've shot that fell just beyond the thicket of young hemlocks on the shore; and, as Jasper is showing signs of an intention of getting under way, you need not take the trouble to climb up this hill again, but we will meet you on the beach in a few minutes." Mabel obeyed, bounding down the hill with the elastic step of youth and health. But, notwithstanding the lightness of her steps, the heart of the girl was heavy, and no sooner was she hid from observation by the thicket, than she threw herself on the root of a tree and wept as if her heart would break. The sergeant watched her, until she disappeared, with a father's pride, and then turned to his companion with a smile as kind and as familiar as his habits would allow him to use toward any. "She has her mother's lightness and activity, my friend, with somewhat of her father's force," he said. "Her mother was not quite as handsome, I think myself; but the Dunhams were always thought comely, whether men or women. Well, Pathfinder, I take it for granted you've not overlooked the opportunity, but have spoken plainly to the girl? Women like frankness in matters of this sort." "I believe Mabel and I understand each other at last, sargeant," returned the other, looking another way to avoid the soldier's face. "So much the better. Some people fancy that a little doubt and uncertainty make love all the livelier, but I am one of those who think the plainer the tongue speaks the easier the mind will comprehend.-Was Mabel surprised?" "I fear she was, sargeant; I fear she was taken quite by surprise-yes, I do." "Well, well, surprises in love are like an ambush in war, and quite as lawful; though it is not as easy to tell when a woman is surprised as to tell when it happens to an enemy.-Mabel did not run away, my worthy friend, did she?" "No, sargeant, Mabel did not try to escape; that I can say with a clear conscience." "I hope the girl was not too willing, neither! Her mother was shy and coy for a month, at least-but frankness, after all, is a recommendation in man or woman." "That it is-that it is-and judgment, too." "You are not to look for too much judgment in a young creature of twenty, Pathfinder, but it will come with experience. A mistake in you, or in me, for instance, might not be so easily overlooked, but in a girl of Mabel's years one is not to strain at a gnat lest they swallow a camel." The muscles of the listener's face twitched as the sergeant was thus delivering his sentiments, though the former had now recovered a portion of that stoicism which formed so large a part of his character, and which he had probably imbibed from long association with the Indians. His eyes rose and fell, and once a gleam shot athwart his hard features, as if he were about to indulge in his peculiar laugh; but the joyous feeling, if it really existed, was as quickly lost in a look allied to anguish. It was this unusual mixture of wild and keen mental agony, with native, simple joyousness, that had most struck Mabel, who, in the interview just related, had a dozen times been on the point of believing that her suitor's heart was only lightly touched, as images of happiness and humor gleamed over a mind that was almost infantine in its simplicity and nature; an impression, however, that was soon driven away by the discovery of emotions so painful and so deep that they seemed to harrow the very soul. Indeed, in this respect, the Pathfinder was a mere child: unpractised in the ways of the world, he had no idea of concealing a thought of any kind, and his mind received and reflected each emotion with the pliability and readiness of that period of life; the infant scarcely yielding its wayward imagination to the passing impression with greater facility than this man, so simple in all his personal feelings, so stern, stoical, masculine, and severe, in all that touched his ordinary pursuits. "You say true, sargeant," Pathfinder answered-"a mistake in one like you is a more serious matter." "You will find Mabel sincere and honest in the end, give her but a little time." "Ah's me, sargeant!" 66 "A man of your merits would make an impression on a rock, give him time, Pathfinder.” Sargeant Dunham, we are old fellow campaigners-that is, as campaigns are carried on here in the wilderness; and we have done so many kind acts to each other that we can afford to be candid-what has caused you to believe that a girl like Mabel could ever fancy one as rude as I am?" "What?-why a variety of reasons, and good reasons, too, my friend. Those same acts of kindness, perhaps, and the campaigns you mention; moreover, you are my sworn and tried comrade." "All this sounds well, so far as you and I be consarned, but they do not touch the case of your pretty da'ghter. She may think these very campaigns have destroyed the little comeliness I may once have had, and I am not quite sartain that being an old friend of her father would lead any young maiden's mind into a particular affection for a suitor. Like loves like, I tell you, sargeant, and my gifts are not altogether the gifts of Mabel Dunham." "These are some of your old modest qualms, Pathfinder, and will do you no credit with the girl. Women distrust men who distrust themselves, and take to men who distrust nothing. Modesty is a capital thing in a recruit, I grant you, or in a young subaltern who has just joined, for it prevents his railing at the non-commissioned officers before he knows what to rail at; I'm not sure it is out of place in a commissary or a parson, but it's the devil and all when it gets possession of either a real soldier or a lover. Have as little to do with it as possible if you would win a woman's heart. As for your doctrine that like loves like, it is as wrong as possible in matters of this sort. If like loved like, women would love one another, and men also. No-no-like loves dislike "the sergeant was merely a scholar of the camp-" and you have nothing to fear from Mabel on that score. Look at Lieutenant Muir; the man has had five wives already, they tell me, |