Historical fiction, American; New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
The young married couple had taken their lodgings in the farthest
corner of the wigwam, and were separated from the rest of the party by
a curtain of curiously-woven twigs such as might have hung in deep
festoons around the bridal-bower of Eve. The modest little wife had
wrought this piece of tapestry while the other guests were talking. She
and her husband fell asleep with hands tenderly clasped, and awoke from
visions of unearthly radiance to meet the more blessed light of one
another’s eyes. They awoke at the same instant and with one happy smile
beaming over their two faces, which grew brighter with their
consciousness of the reality of life and love. But no sooner did she
recollect where they were than the bride peeped through the interstices
of the leafy curtain and saw that the outer room of the hut was
deserted.
“Up, dear Matthew!” cried she, in haste. “The strange folk are all
gone. Up this very minute, or we shall lose the Great Carbuncle!”
In truth, so little did these poor young people deserve the mighty
prize which had lured them thither that they had slept peacefully all
night and till the summits of the hills were glittering with sunshine,
while the other adventurers had tossed their limbs in feverish
wakefulness or dreamed of climbing precipices, and set off to realize
their dreams with the curliest peep of dawn. But Matthew and Hannah
after their calm rest were as light as two young deer, and merely
stopped to say their prayers and wash themselves in a cold pool of the
Amonoosuck, and then to taste a morsel of food ere they turned their
faces to the mountain-side. It was a sweet emblem of conjugal affection
as they toiled up the difficult ascent gathering strength from the
mutual aid which they afforded.
After several little accidents, such as a torn robe, a lost shoe and
the entanglement of Hannah’s hair in a bough, they reached the upper
verge of the forest and were now to pursue a more adventurous course.
The innumerable trunks and heavy foliage of the trees had hitherto shut
in their thoughts, which now shrank affrighted from the region of wind
and cloud and naked rocks and desolate sunshine that rose immeasurably
above them. They gazed back at the obscure wilderness which they had
traversed, and longed to be buried again in its depths rather than
trust themselves to so vast and visible a solitude.
“Shall we go on?” said Matthew, throwing his arm round Hannah’s waist
both to protect her and to comfort his heart by drawing her close to
it.
But the little bride, simple as she was, had a woman’s love of jewels,
and could not forego the hope of possessing the very brightest in the
world, in spite of the perils with which it must be won.
“Let us climb a little higher,” whispered she, yet tremulously, as she
turned her face upward to the lonely sky.
“Come, then,” said Matthew, mustering his manly courage and drawing her
along with him; for she became timid again the moment that he grew
bold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account