CHAPTER VII.

And is this -- Yarrow? -- this the stream
Of which my fancy cherish'd
So faithfully a waking dream?
An image that hath perish'd?
Oh that some minstrel's harp were near,
To utter notes of gladness,
And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness.
WORDSWORTH.


THE scene was not without its sublimity, and the ardent, generous-minded
Mabel felt her blood thrill in her veins and her cheeks flush, as
the canoe shot into the strength of the stream, to quit the spot.
The darkness of the night had lessened, by the dispersion of the
clouds; but the overhanging woods rendered the shore so obscure,
that the boats floated down the current in a belt of gloom
that effectually secured them from detection. Still, there was
necessarily a strong feeling of insecurity in all on board them;
and even Jasper, who by this time began to tremble, in behalf of
the girl, at every unusual sound that arose from the forest, kept
casting uneasy glances around him as he drifted on in company.
The paddle was used lightly, and only with exceeding care; for the
slightest sound in the breathing stillness of that hour and place
might apprise the watchful ears of the Iroquois of their position.