Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
"Such is the name I bear. A fitting confidence in him who knows so well
how to change the wilds into the haunts of men, and much suffering, have
made me the master of what thou seest. Whether thou comest to tarry a
night, a week, a month, or even for a still longer season, as a brother in
care, and I doubt not one who striveth for the right, I bid thee welcome."
The stranger thanked his host, by a slow inclination of the head; but the
gaze, which began to partake a little of the look of recognition, was
still too earnest and engrossing to admit of verbal reply. On the other
hand, though the old man had scanned the broad and rusty beaver, the
coarse and well-worn doublet, the heavy boots and, in short, the whole
attire of his visiter, in which he saw no vain conformity to idle
fashions to condemn, it was evident that personal recollection had not the
smallest influence in quickening his hospitality.
"Thou hast arrived happily," continued the Puritan: "had night
overtaken thee in the forest, unless much practised in the shifts of
our young woodsmen, hunger, frost, and a supperless bed of brush, would
have given thee motive to think more of the body than is either
profitable or seemly."
The stranger might possibly have known the embarrassment of these several
hardships; for the quick and unconscious glance he threw over his soiled
dress, should have betrayed some familiarity already, with the privations
to which his host alluded. As neither of them, however, seemed disposed to
waste further time on matters of such light moment, the traveller put an
arm through the bridle of his horse, and, in obedience to an invitation
from the owner of the dwelling, they took their way towards the fortified
edifice on the natural mound.
The task of furnishing litter and provender to the jaded beast was
performed by Whittal Ring under the inspection, and, at times, under the
instructions, of its owner and his host, both of whom appeared to take a
kind and commendable interest in the comfort of a faithful hack, that had
evidently suffered long and much in the service of its master. When this
duty was discharged, the old man and his unknown guest entered the house
together; the frank and unpretending hospitality of a country like that
they were in, rendering suspicion or hesitation qualities that were
unknown to the reception of a man of white blood; more especially if he
spoke the language of the island, which was then first sending out its
swarms, to subdue and possess so large a portion of a continent that
nearly divides the earth in moieties.
Chapter III.
"This is most strange: your father's in some passion
That works him strongly."
Tempest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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