“Say not so, my child,” returned her father; “but if thou venturest
again as in crossing this bridge, old age will never overtake thee,
but I shall be left to mourn thee, cut off in thy pride, my Elizabeth.
If thou hadst seen this district of country, as I did, when it lay in
the sleep of nature, and bad witnessed its rapid changes as it awoke
to supply the wants of man, thou wouldst curb thy impatience for a
little time, though thou shouldst not check thy steed.”

“I recollect hearing you speak of your first visit to these woods, but
the impression is faint, and blended with the confused images of
childhood. Wild and unsettled as it may yet seem, it must have been a
thousand times more dreary then. Will you repeat, dear sir, what you
then thought of your enterprise, and what you felt?”

During this speech of Elizabeth, which was uttered with the fervor of
affection, young Edwards rode more closely to the side of the Judge,
and bent his dark eyes on his countenance with an expression that
seemed to read his thoughts.

“Thou wast then young, my child, but must remember when I left thee
and thy mother, to take my first survey of these uninhabited
mountains,” said Marmaduke. “But thou dost not feel all the secret
motives that can urge a man to endure privations in order to
accumulate wealth. In my case they have not been trifling, and God
has been pleased to smile on my efforts. If I have encountered pain,
famine, and disease in accomplishing the settlement of this rough
territory, I have not the misery of failure to add to the grievances.”

“Famine!” echoed Elizabeth; “I thought this was the land of abundance!
Had you famine to contend with?”