CHAPTER XI.

THE WARNING.

LATE in that November afternoon, Esther Ludlow walked from the governor's house towards her own home. Dame Endicott still lingered, but in a hopeless and insensible state, and Esther, whose rude but commodious dwelling-place had for some weeks been converted into a hospital for the many exiles, whom the pestilence and famine had stricken, now bent her steps homewards to fulfil her duties there.

She had, herself, recently dispatched a messenger to Plymouth, who bore a letter from Endicott to Governor Bradford, praying that the services of the worthy and eminent Doctor Fuller, who had already rendered signal services, during similar afflictions in the older colony, might be extended to the suffering colonists of Naumkeak. In the mean time the whole superintendence of this hospital devolved upon her brother and herself.

The enthusiasm of Esther sustained her in these dark hours. She flitted among the suffering people like an angel of mercy, shedding blessings from her wings. She had at last found her sphere. The vision which had been displayed before her exalted imagination so long, seemed at last to change to reality. The foundation of that great religious asylum beyond the sea, seemed, al last, securely laid. Not appalled by the gloom which hung over the birth-day of the colony, not daunted by the dangers which rose like spectres along its course, she felt her heart beat high within her as she contemplated the sublime motives, the unwavering courage, of the leaders of the undertaking. She rejoiced that Providence had at last revealed to her a mode in

which she might prove, otherwise than in idle rhapsodies, her deep devotion to the cause which had led her and her brother into the wilderness. She rejoiced that her comparatively wealthy condition, and her habituation to the climate, enabled her to render essential services to those starving, perishing martyrs.

Charity, in marble or on canvass, is an attractive, adorable image, but the exercise of the virtue in reality, and in detail, is far less picturesque. Esther was true to her mission, which she felt had been intrusted to her by the hand of the Lord. She never faltered, she never repined, not a cloud obscured the brightness of her face, which diffused a radiance around the gloomy hovels where she was a daily visitant, and where to many a weary soul she seemed like one clad in the shining garments of a better world.

Yet she had sorrows of her own, and her heart was sad when she thought of Henry Maudsley. To her it seemed that they were hopelessly separated. She had not seen him, she had heard no tidings of him since that inexplicable interview in which he had heaped so many wild and incoherent reproaches upon her, and in which he had thrown around her neck the chain, of which he had possessed himself in so mysterious a manner. She supposed that he had already crossed the ocean, never to look upon her face again, and that he believed her fickle, deceitful, capricious. As she thought of this, as she thought how incapable he had proved himself of reading her soul, as she remembered the stinging words, more poisonous than adders', with which he had tortured her when last they met, her proud soul mounted, indignant and resentful, to a height from which she looked down with pity upon one so perverse and so misguided. And yet she could not but acknowledge, in her heart of hearts, that life had forever lost its brightness, and that a portion of her soul was withering never to blossom again.

Brooding over these melancholy thoughts, Esther strayed

pensively homewards. The twilight was gathering, and she had already left the last hovel behind her, which intervened between the little village and her own abode, when as she passed beneath the branches of the vast pine trees which skirted her own domain, she felt a sudden, but gentle touch upon the shoulder. She turned quickly around, feeling but slight alarm, for she supposed herself probably accosted by one of the settlers, when to her surprise she beheld a person whom she had certainly never seen before, and who, at least by that dim and uncertain light, seemed hardly human. A withered, leathern, apish, malicious face, lighted by two sparkling, toad-like eyes, a supple, lithe, baboon-like figure, whose restless and erratic movements seemed altogether involuntary, were the characteristics of the personage who now presented himself to her astonished eyes. As soon as this extraordinary creature found that he had attracted her attention, he suddenly threw a somerset high in the air, and alighting upon one leg, he thrust forth a carefully sealed packet in his brown and shriveled paw. As Esther, manifesting considerable repugnance and alarm, seemed reluctant to take the letter, and anxious to make her escape, the creature suddenly gibbered out, in a shrill voice, the name of Henry Maudsley. As the loved name struck her ear, Esther instinctively reached forth her hand and snatched the packet, whereupon the singular creature uttered a chuckling laugh, threw another somerset, and disappeared in the thicket. As soon as her strange companion, who was no other than Peter Cakebread, had taken his departure in this whimsical manner, Esther hastened to her own cottage, tore the seals from the mysterious packet, and read, by the light of a pine torch, the following lines:

"A fearful danger is impending over thee, Esther. Thine own hand only can avert the blow. One who hath no further claim upon thy heart, hath yet sworn to devote his life, if neces

not.

sary, to solve the mystery which envelopes at this moment thine own destiny and his. But all efforts will be fruitless, if these words do not alarm thee. I know, I deplore the infatuation which hath involved thy fate with the fortunes of a nameless adventurer. I bid thee most solemnly now, in this my farewell missive, to beware of him, Shun him as thou wouldest perdition. Power or right to say more at this present, I have Within a few days, I purpose to take shipping for England, with but one purpose in view, to enable myself to solve my own doubts, and to arm myself with authority to tear off the garments which disguise a hypocrite, a villain, and a malefactor. Think not that wounded pride or petty jealousy dictate my course. No, Esther, thou wilt not judge me thus harshly. Were I doomed to perish at this hour, still, with my latest breath would I implore thee to break forever from the meshes which surround thee, before thy destruction be accomplished. One word more, and I have finished. To thy loyalty I trust that this communication may be buried in oblivion, and that no living being hear from thy lips of my existence, either in this wilderness or in the world.

HENRY MAUDSLEY."

CHAPTER XII.

THE PLOTS OF CAKEBREAD.

THE solitude of Shawmut had not yet been invaded by any detachment from Endicott's colony. Although the brothers Sprague had already established themselves in the neighboring promontory of Mishawum, where, until their arrival, the burly blacksmith had dwelt in undisturbed repose, yet the hermit Blaxton still maintained himself upon his beautiful peninsula.

He had, however, for many weeks past had a companion. We have seen at what a critical moment he had found Henry Maudsley. The hermit's skill in pharmacy, aided by the vigorous constitution of the wounded youth, had at last frustrated the malice of Sir Christopher Gardiner. The knight, never doubting of his death, had been withheld by a feeling not natural to him, but which, for particular considerations, was an overpowering one in this case, from putting foot upon the peninsula. The corpse of his victim, lying unburied upon that solitary beach, was a sight from which he shrank. Although, at times, he felt disposed to summon up his old energy, and to laugh down his compunctious visitings, yet he was after all forced to submit to what seemed a decree of destiny. However much he essayed to conquer his repugnance, however important it had been at times for him to visit Blaxton, still would the spectre of the murdered Maudsley rise up before him, and scare him from his purpose. The reasons, which so excited his imagination, will be more fully developed hereafter.