“My poor Mary!” exclaimed Emma.

  “I thought of you often and often, my dear sister,” replied Mary, kissing her.

  “I believe it was a long while before I came to my senses,” continued Mary, “for when I did, I found that the Indians were very busy weaving branches into a sort of litter. As soon as they had finished, they put me upon it, and I was carried by two of them swinging on a pole which they put on their shoulders. I need hardly say, that the journey was now more agreeable than it was before, although my feet were in a dreadful state, and gave me much pain. That night we stopped by a rivulet, and I kept my feet in the water for two or three hours, which brought down the inflammation and swelling very much, and I contrived after that to gain some sleep. They carried me one more day, when they considered that they had done enough, and I was again ordered to walk; I did so for two days, and was then in the same condition as before. A litter was therefore again constructed, and I was carried till I arrived at the lodges of the Angry Snake and his band. What passed from that time you have heard from Alfred.”

  When Mary Percival had finished her narrative, they all sat down to supper, and it hardly need be said that Mr. Campbell did not fail, before they retired to rest, again to pour forth his thanksgivings to the Almighty for the preservation of those who were so dear. The next morning, they all rose in health and spirits. Martin came early to the house with the Strawberry; his wound was much better, and he received the thanks and condolence of Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.

  When they were at breakfast, Mr. Campbell said, “John, in our joy at seeing your brother and cousin again, I quite forgot to scold you for running away as you did.”

  “Then don’t do it now, sir,” said Malachi, “for he was very useful, I can assure you.”

  “No, I won’t scold him now,” replied Mr. Campbell; “but he must not act so another time. If he had confided to me his anxious wish to join you, I should probably have given my permission.”

  “I must now take my leave, and return to the fort,” said Captain Sinclair; “I do, however, trust I shall see you all again in a few days, but I must report the results of the expedition, and the death of poor Watkins. May I borrow one of your horses, Mr. Campbell?”

  “Certainly,” replied Mr. Campbell; “you know the bateau is expected every day from Montreal; perhaps you will bring us our letters when it arrives.”

  Captain Sinclair took his leave, as it may be imagined, very reluctantly, and in a day or two the family again settled down to their usual occupations. The emigrants had, during the absence of the expedition, gathered in a great portion of the corn, and now all hands were employed in finishing the harvest.

  “How happy we are now, Mary,” said Emma to her sister, as they were walking by the stream watching John, who was catching trout.

  “Yes, my dear Emma, we have had a lesson which will, I trust, prevent any future repining, if we have felt any, at our present position. The misery we have been rescued from has shown us how much we have to be thankful for. We have nothing more to fear from the Indians, and I feel as if I could now pass the remainder of my life here in peace and thankfulness.”

  “Not without Captain Sinclair?”

  “Not always without him; the time will, I trust, come when I may reward him for his patience and his regard for me; but it has not yet come; and it’s for my uncle and aunt to decide when it shall. Where’s Percival?”

  “He is gone into the woods with Malachi, and with a rifle on his shoulder, of which he is not a little proud. John is not at all jealous. He says that Percival ought to know how to fire a rifle, and throw away that foolish bow and arrow. Do you not think that his residence among the Indians has made a great change in Percival?”

  “A very great one; he is more manly and more taciturn; he appears to think more and talk less. But Henry is beckoning to us. Dinner is ready, and we must not keep hungry people waiting.”

  “No,” replied Emma; “for in that case I should keep myself waiting.”

  CHAPTER XL.

  Captain Sinclair on his return to Fort Frontignac reported to the Colonel the successful result of the expedition, and was warmly congratulated upon it, as the Colonel had been made acquainted with the engagement between him and Mary Percival. The Young Otter, who had remained in confinement during Captain Sinclair’s absence, was now set at liberty; and the Colonel, who was aware that Captain Sinclair must be very anxious to remain at the settlement for a short time after what had occurred, very kindly offered him leave for a few days, which it may be supposed Captain Sinclair did not fail to avail himself of. The Colonel at the same time sent a message to Mr. Campbell, stating that as soon as the bateaux should arrive from Montreal, he would bring any letters or newspapers that might arrive for them, and take that opportunity of offering in person his congratulations.

  Captain Sinclair did not, however, return for two or three days, as he had many letters to write in answer to those which had arrived during his absence. On his return to the settlement, he found them all well and happy; Mary quite recovered from her fatigue, and every thing going on in the same quiet order and method as if the expedition had never taken place, and had never been necessary. Indeed, nothing appeared now wanting to the happiness of the whole party, and their affairs were prospering. The emigrants who had joined Mr. Campbell were industrious and intelligent, very civil, and very useful. They paid the greatest respect to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who were certainly very liberal and kind to them, assisting them in every way in their power. Although the farm had been so much increased, the labor was light, from the quantity of hands they could command; the stock had increased very fast; old Graves had taken charge of the mill during the absence of Alfred and Martin, and had expressed his wish to continue in that employment, which Alfred gladly gave up. In short, peace and plenty reigned in the settlement, and Alfred’s words when he recommended his father to go to Canada, had every prospect of becoming true — that his father would be independent, if not rich, and leave his children the same. In three days Captain Sinclair arrived; he was received with great warmth by all the party, and after dinner was over, Mr. Campbell addressed the family as follows: —

  “My dear children, your mother and I have had some conversation on one or two points, and we have come to the decision that having so much to thank God for, in his kindness and mercies shown toward us, it would be selfish on our parts if we did not consult the happiness of others. We are now independent, and with every prospect of being more so every day; we are no longer isolated, but surrounded by those who are attached to us and will protect us should there be any occasion. In short, we are living in comfort and security, and we trust to Providence that we shall continue so to do. You, my dear Alfred, generously abandoned your profession to which you were so partial, to come and protect us in the wilderness, and we knew too well the value of your services not to accept them, although we were fully aware of the sacrifice which you made; but we are no longer in the wilderness, and no longer require your strong arm and bold heart. We have therefore decided that it is our duty no longer to keep you from the profession to which you belong, but, on the contrary, to recommend you now to rejoin and follow up your career, which we trust in God may prove as prosperous as we are convinced it will be honorable. Take our best thanks, my dear boy, for your kindness to us, and now consider yourself at liberty to return to England, and rejoin the service as soon as you please.

  “And now I must address you, my dear Mary; you and your sister accompanied us here, and since you have been with us, have cheered us during our stay by your attentions and unwearied cheerfulness under all the privations which we at first had to encounter. You have engaged the affections of an honorable and deserving man, but at the same time have never shown the least disposition to leave us; indeed, we know what your determination has been, but your aunt and I consider it our present duty to say, that much as we shall regret to part with one so dear, you must no longer sacrifice yourself for us, but make him happy who so well deserves you. That you will remain here is of course out of the question; your husband’s connections and fortune require that he should return to England, and not bury himself in the woods of Canada. You have therefore our full permission, and I may say, it will be most pleasing to us, if you no longer delay your union with Captain Sinclair and follow your husband; whenever and wherever you go, you will have our blessing and our prayers, and the satisfaction of knowing that you have been to us as a dutiful daughter, and that we love you as dearly as it is possible for parents to do. Take her, Captain Sinclair, from my hands, and take with her our blessings and best wishes for your happiness, which I do not doubt will be as great as we can expect in this checkered world; for a dutiful daughter will always become a good wife.”

  Mary, who was sitting between Mrs. Campbell and Captain Sinclair, fell upon her aunt’s neck and wept; Mr. Campbell extended his hand to Captain Sinclair, who expressed in return his warmest thanks and gratitude. Alfred, who had said nothing more, went up to his mother and kissed her.

  “I wish you to go, Alfred,” said his mother; “I wish you to rejoin a service to which you are a credit. Do not believe otherwise, or that I shall grieve too much at your departure.”

  “Go, my son,” said Mr. Campbell, shaking him by the hand, “and let me see you a post-captain before I die.”

  Mrs. Campbell now took Mary Percival into the next room, that she might compose herself, and Captain Sinclair ventured to follow. Every one appeared happy at this announcement of Mr. Campbell except Emma, who looked unusually serious. Alfred, perceiving it, said to her, “Emma, you are very grave at the idea of losing Mary, and I do not wonder at it, but you will have one consolation, — you will lose me too, and I shall no longer plague you as you continually complain that I do.”

  “I never thought of that,” replied Emma, half angry; “well, you are a great plague, and the sooner you go—”

  Emma did not, however, finish her speech, but left the room, to join her sister.

  Now that Mr. Campbell had announced his wishes, the subject of Mary’s marriage and Alfred’s return to the service was, for a few days, the continual subject of discussion. It was decided that Mary should be married in a month, by the chaplain of the fort, who had returned, and that Captain Sinclair, with his wife and Alfred, should leave the settlement at the end of September, so as to arrive at Quebec in good time for sailing before the winter should set in. It was now the last week in August, so that there was not much time to pass away previous to their departure. Captain Sinclair returned to the fort, to make the Colonel acquainted with what had passed, and to take the necessary steps for leave of absence, and his return to England. This, from his interest with the Governor, he was sure to obtain, and when in England, it would be time sufficient to decide whether he should leave that service or exchange into some regiment at home. As every prospect of war or disturbance in Canada was now over, he could take either step without any censure being laid upon him.

  A week afterward, the bateaux arrived from Montreal, and the Colonel and Captain Sinclair made their appearance at the settlement, bringing with them the letters and papers from England.

  Having received the congratulations of the Colonel, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, with his permission, opened their letters, for all the family were present, and all, as usual, anxious to hear the news. The first letter Mr. Campbell opened, to the surprise of all, produced an immediate change in his countenance. He read it a second time, and laying it down on his knee, appeared to remain in a state of complete abstraction.

  “No bad news, I hope, Campbell?” said his wife anxiously, as all the rest looked upon him with astonishment.

  “No, my dear Emily, no bad news, but most unexpected news; such as it has been my fortune in life to receive once before this time. You remember, although years have since passed, the letter that was brought to us in our little parlor—”

  “Which put you in possession of Wexton Hall, Campbell.”

  “Yes, I did refer to that; but I will not keep you all in longer suspense. This is but a counterpart of the former letter.”

  Mr. Campbell then read as follows: —

  “May 7, 18 —

  “Dear Sir, — It is with great pleasure that we have again to communicate to you that you may return, as soon as you please, and take possession of the Wexton Hall property.

  “You may remember that many months back Mr. Douglas Campbell received a fall from his horse when hunting. No serious consequences were anticipated, but it appears that his spine was injured, and after some months’ close confinement, he expired on the 9th of April. As Mr. Douglas Campbell has left no issue, and you are the next in tail, you have now undisputed possession of the property which you so honorably surrendered some years since.

  “I have taken upon myself to act as your agent since Mr. Campbell’s decease. Mrs. D. Campbell has a handsome settlement upon the property, which will of course fall in upon her demise. Waiting your commands,

  “I am, dear sir,

  “Yours truly,

  “J. Harvey.”

  “Mr. Campbell, I congratulate you with all my heart,” said the Colonel, rising up, and taking his hand. “You have proved yourself deserving of such good fortune; Mrs. Campbell, I need hardly add that my congratulations extend to you.”

  Surprise at first rendered Mrs. Campbell mute; at last she said —

  “We are in the hands of Him, and do but execute His will. For your sake, my dear Campbell, for the children’s sake, perhaps, I ought to rejoice — we hardly know. That I am happy here, now that my children have been restored to me, I confess. I doubt whether that happiness will be increased by the return to Wexton Hall; at all events, I shall leave this place with regret. We have had too many revolutions of fortune, Campbell, since we have been united, not to have learned by experience that a peaceful, quiet, and contented home is more necessary to our happiness than riches.”

  “I feel as you do, Emily,” replied Mr. Campbell, “but we are growing old, and have been taught wisdom practically, by the events of a checkered life. Our children, I perceive, think otherwise — nor do I wonder at it.”

  “I shan’t go,” said John; “I shall only be sent to school; no master shall flog me — I’m a man.”

  “Nor me,” cried Percival.

  The Colonel and Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, as well as the elder portion of the party, could not help smiling at the exclamation of the two boys. They had both played the part of men, and it was but too evident how unfitted they would be for future scholastic discipline.

  “You shall neither of you go to school,” replied Mr. Campbell, “but still you must render yourselves fit for your stations in life, by improving your minds, and attending those who will instruct you.”

  It is hard to say whether much real joy was felt by any of the party at the prospect of returning to England. It is true that Mary Percival was delighted at the idea of not being so far from her aunt and uncle, and that Emma was better pleased to be in England, for reasons which she kept to herself. But it was not the coming into the large property which occasioned pleasure to any of them. However, if there was not much pleasure derived from this re-accession to property, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell knew their duty too well to hesitate, and every preparation was commenced for their return along with Alfred and Captain Sinclair. John, however, still continued obstinate in declaring that he would not go, and Percival was very much of John’s opinion, although he did not speak so plainly.

  When Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were alone, the former said to his wife, —

  “I do not know what to do about John. He appears so resolute in his determination not to go with us, that I fear he will run away into the woods at the time of our departure. He is now continually with Malachi and Martin, and appears to have severed himself from the family.”