CHAPTER 31.

And dar’st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall “—Marmion.

The commotion was just subsiding, and the inhabitants of the village
had begun to disperse from the little groups that had formed, each
retiring to his own home, and closing his door after him, with the
grave air of a man who consulted public feeling in his exterior
deportment, when Oliver Edwards, on his return from the dwelling of
Mr. Grant, encountered the young lawyer, who is known to the reader as
Mr. Lippet.  There was very little similarity in the manners or
opinions of the two; but as they both belonged to the more intelligent
class of a very small community, they were, of course, known to each
other, and as their meeting was at a point where silence would have
been rudeness, the following conversation was the result of their
interview:

“A fine evening, Mr. Edwards,” commenced the lawyer, whose
disinclination to the dialogue was, to say the least, very doubtful;
“we want rain sadly; that’s the worst of this climate of ours, it’s
either a drought or a deluge.  It’s likely you’ve been used to a more
equal temperature?”

“I am a native of this State,” returned Edwards, coldly.

“Well.  I’ve often heard that point disputed; but it’s so easy to get
a man naturalized, that it’s of little consequence where he was born.
I wonder what course the Judge means to take in this business of Natty
Bumppo!”
“Of Natty Bumppo!” echoed Edwards; “to what do you allude, sir?”
“Haven’t you heard!” exclaimed the other, with a look of surprise, so
naturally assumed as completely to deceive his auditor; “it may turn
out an ugly business.  It seems that the old man has been out in the
hills, and has shot a buck this morning, and that, you know, is a
criminal matter in the eyes of Judge Temple.”

“Oh! he has, has he?” said Edwards, averting his face to conceal the
color that collected in his sunburnt cheek.  “Well, if that be all, he
must even pay the fine.”

“It’s five pound currency,” said the lawyer; “could Natty muster so
much money at once?”

“Could he!” cried the youth.  “I am not rich, Mr. Lippet; far from it—
I am poor, and I have been hoarding my salary for a purpose that lies
near my heart; but, be fore that old man should lie one hour in a
jail, I would spend the last cent to prevent it.  Besides, he has
killed two panthers, and the bounty will discharge the fine many times
over.”

“Yes, yes,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands together, with an
expression of pleasure that had no artifice about it; “we shall make
it out; I see plainly we shall make it out.”

“Make what out, sir? I must beg an explanation.”

“Why, killing the buck is but a small matter compared to what took
place this afternoon,” continued Mr. Lippet, with a confidential and
friendly air that won upon the youth, little as he liked the man.  “It
seems that a complaint was made of the fact, and a suspicion that
there was venison in the hut was sworn to, all which is provided for
in the statute, when Judge Temple granted the search warrant.”

“A search-warrant!” echoed Edwards, in a voice of horror, and with a
face that should have been again averted to conceal its paleness; “and
how much did they discover? What did they see

“They saw old Bumppo’s rifle; and that is a sight which will quiet
most men’s curiosity in the woods.”

“Did they! did they!” shouted Edwards, bursting into a convulsive
laugh; “so the old hero beat them back beat them back! did he?”
The lawyer fastened his eyes in astonishment on the youth, but, as his
wonder gave way to the thoughts that were commonly uppermost in his
mind, he replied:

“It is no laughing matter, let me tell you, sir; the forty dollars of
bounty and your six months of salary will be much reduced before you
can get the matter fairly settled.  Assaulting a magistrate in the
execution of his duty, and menacing a constable with firearms at the
same time, is a pretty serious affair, and is punishable with both
fine and imprisonment.”

“Imprisonment!” repeated Oliver; “imprison the Leather-Stocking! no,
no, sir; it would bring the old man to his grave.  They shall never
imprison the Leather-Stocking.”

“Well, Mr. Edwards,” said Lippet, dropping all reserve from his
manner, “you are called a curious man; but if you can tell me how a
jury is to be prevented from finding a verdict of guilty, if this case
comes fairly before them, and the proof is clear, I shall acknowledge
that you know more law than I do, who have had a license in my pocket
for three years.”

By this time the reason of Edwards was getting the ascendency of his
feelings, and, as he began to see the real difficulties of the case,
he listened more readily to the conversation of the lawyer.  The
ungovernable emotion that escaped the youth, in the first moments of
his surprise, entirely passed away; and, although it was still evident
that he continued to be much agitated by what he had heard, he
succeeded in yielding forced attention to the advice which the other
uttered.

Notwithstanding the confused state of his mind, Oliver soon discovered
that most of the expedients of the lawyer were grounded in cunning,
and plans that required a time to execute them that neither suited his
disposition nor his necessities.  After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to
under stand that he retained him in the event of a trial, an assurance
that at once satisfied the lawyer, they parted, one taking his course
with a deliberate tread in the direction of the little building that
had a wooden sign over its door, with “Chester Lippet, Attorney-at-
law,” painted on it; and the other pacing over the ground with
enormous strides toward the mansion-house.  We shall take leave of the
attorney for the present, and direct the attention of the reader to
the client.

When Edwards entered the hall, whose enormous doors were opened to the
passage of the air of a mild evening, he found Benjamin engaged in
some of his domestic avocations, and in a hurried voice inquired where
Judge Temple was to be found.

Why, the Judge has stepped into his office, with that master
carpenter, Mister Doolittle; but Miss Lizzy is in that there parlor.
I say, Master Oliver, we’d like to have had a bad job of that panther,
or painter’s work— some calls it one, and some calls it t’other—but I
know little of the beast, seeing that it is not of British growth.  I
said as much as that it was in the hills the last winter for I heard
it moaning on the lake shore one evening in the fall, when I was
pulling down from the fishing-point in the skiff.  Had the animal come
into open water, where a man could see where and how to work his
vessel, I would have engaged the thing myself; but looking aloft among
the trees is all the same to me as standing on the deck of one ship,
and looking at another vessel’s tops.  I never can tell one rope from
another—”

“Well, well,” interrupted Edwards; “I must see Miss Temple.”

“And you shall see her, sir,” said the steward; “she’s in this here
room.  Lord, Master Edwards, what a loss she’d have been to the Judge!
Dam’me if I know where he would have gotten such another daughter;
that is, full grown, d’ye see.  I say, sir, this Master Bumppo is a
worthy man, and seems to have a handy way with him, with firearms and
boat-hooks.  I’m his friend, Master Oliver, and he and you may both
set me down as the same.”

“We may want your friendship, my worthy fellow,” cried Edwards,
squeezing his hand convulsively; “we may want your friendship, in
which case you shall know it.”

Without waiting to hear the earnest reply that Benjamin meditated, the
youth extricated himself from the vigorous grasp of the steward, and
entered the parlor.

Elizabeth was alone, and still reclining on the sofa, where we last
left her.  A hand, which exceeded all that the ingenuity of art could
model, in shape and color, veiled her eyes; and the maiden was sitting
as if in deep communion with herself.  Struck by the attitude and
loveliness of the form that met his eye, the young man checked his
impatience, and approached her with respect and caution.

“Miss Temple—Miss Temple,” he said, “I hope I do not intrude; but I am
anxious for an interview, if it be only for a moment.”

Elizabeth raised her face, and exhibited her dark eyes swimming in
moisture.

Is it you, Edwards?” she said, with a sweetness in her voice, and a
softness in her air, that she often used to her father, but which,
from its novelty to himself, thrilled on every nerve of the youth;
“how left you our poor Louisa?”

“She is with her father, happy and grateful,” said Oliver, “ I never
witnessed more feeling than she manifested, when I ventured to express
my pleasure at her escape.  Miss Temple, when I first heard of your
horrid situation, my feelings were too powerful for utterance; and I
did not properly find my tongue, until the walk to Mr. Grant’s had
given me time to collect myself.  I believe—I do believe, I acquitted
myself better there, for Miss Grant even wept at my silly speeches.”
For a moment Elizabeth did not reply, but again veiled her eyes with
her hand.  The feeling that caused the action, however, soon passed
away, and, raising her face again to his gaze, she continued with a
smile:

“Your friend, the Leather-Stocking, has now become my friend, Edwards;
I have been thinking how I can best serve him; perhaps you, who know
his habits and his wants so well, can tell me——”

“I can,” cried the youth, with an impetuosity that startled his
companion.  “I can, and may Heaven reward you for the wish, Natty has
been so imprudent as to for get the law, and has this day killed a
deer.  Nay, I believe I must share in the crime and the penalty, for I
was an accomplice throughout.  A complaint has been made to your
father, and he has granted a search—”

“I know it all,” interrupted Elizabeth; “I know it all.  The forms of
the law must be complied with, however; the search must be made, the
deer found, and the penalty paid.  But I must retort your own
question.  Have you lived so long in our family not to know us? Look
at me, Oliver Edwards.  Do I appear like one who would permit the man
that has just saved her life to linger in a jail for so small a sum as
this fine? No, no, sir; my father is a judge, but he is a man and a
Christian.  It is all under stood, and no harm shall follow.”

“What a load of apprehension do your declarations remove!” exclaimed
Edwards: “ He shall not be disturbed again! your father will protect
him! I have assurance, Miss Temple, that he will, and I must believe
it.”

“You may have his own, Mr. Edwards,” returned Elizabeth, “for here he
comes to make it.”

But the appearance of Marmaduke, who entered the apartment,
contradicted the flattering anticipations of his daughter.  His brow
was contracted, and his manner disturbed.  Neither Elizabeth nor the
youth spoke; but the Judge was allowed to pace once or twice across
the room without interruption, when he cried:

“Our plans are defeated, girl; the obstinacy of the Leather-Stocking
has brought down the indignation of the law on his head, and it is now
out of my power to avert it.”

“How? in what manner?” cried Elizabeth; “the fine is nothing surely—”

“I did not—I could not anticipate that an old, a friendless man like
him, would dare to oppose the officers of justice,” interrupted the
Judge, “I supposed that he would submit to the search, when the fine
could have been paid, and the law would have been appeased; but now he
will have to meet its rigor.”

“And what must the punishment be, sir?” asked Ed wards, struggling to
speak with firmness.

Marmaduke turned quickly to the spot where the youth had withdrawn,
and exclaimed:

“You here! I did not observe you.  I know not what it will be, sir; it
is not usual for a judge to decide until he has heard the testimony,
and the jury have convicted.  Of one thing, however, you may be
assured, Mr. Edwards; it shall be whatever the law demands,
notwithstanding any momentary weakness I may have exhibited, because
the luckless man has been of such eminent service to my daughter.”

“No one, I believe, doubts the sense of justice which Judge Temple
entertains!” returned Edwards bitterly.

“But let us converse calmly, sir.  Will not the years, the habits,
nay, the ignorance of my old friend, avail him any thing against this
charge?”

“Ought they? They may extenuate, but can they ac quit? Would any
society be tolerable, young man, where the ministers of justice are to
be opposed by men armed with rifles? Is it for this that I have tamed
the wilder ness?”

“Had you tamed the beasts that so lately threatened the life of Miss
Temple, sir, your arguments would apply better.”

“Edwards!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“Peace, my child,” interrupted the father; “ the youth is unjust; but
I have not given him cause.  I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know
thee to be the friend of Natty, and zeal in his behalf has overcome
thy discretion,”

“Yes, he is my friend,” cried Edwards, “and I glory in the title.  He
is simple, unlettered, even ignorant; prejudiced, perhaps, though I
feel that his opinion of the world is too true; but he has a heart,
Judge Temple, that would atone for a thousand faults; he knows his
friends, and never deserts them, even if it be his dog.”

“This is a good character, Mr. Edwards,” returned Marmaduke, mildly;
“but I have never been so fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to me
he has been uniformly repulsive; yet I have endured it, as an old
man’s whim, However, when he appears before me, as his judge, he shall
find that his former conduct shall not aggravate, any more than his
recent services shall extenuate, his crime.”

“Crime!” echoed Edwards: “is it a crime to drive a prying miscreant
from his door? Crime! Oh, no, sir; if there be a criminal involved in
this affair, it is not he.”

“And who may it be, sir?” asked Judge Temple, facing the agitated
youth, his features settled to their usual composure.

This appeal was more than the young man could bear.  Hitherto he had
been deeply agitated by his emotions; but now the volcano burst its
boundaries.

“Who! and this to me!” he cried; “ask your own conscience, Judge
Temple.  Walk to that door, sir, and look out upon the valley, that
placid lake, and those dusky mountains, and say to your own heart, if
heart you have, whence came these riches, this vale, those hills, and
why am I their owner? I should think, sir, that the appearance of
Mohegan and the Leather-Stocking, stalking through the country,
impoverished and forlorn, would wither your sight.”

Marmaduke heard this burst of passion, at first, with deep amazement;
but when the youth had ended, he beckoned to his impatient daughter
for silence, and replied:

“Oliver Edwards, thou forgettest in whose presence thou standest.  I
have heard, young man, that thou claimest descent from the native
owners of the soil; but surely thy education has been given thee to no
effect, if it has not taught thee the validity of the claims that have
transferred the title to the whites.  These lands are mine by the very
grants of thy ancestry, if thou art so descended; and I appeal to
Heaven for a testimony of the uses I have put them to.  After this
language, we must separate.  I have too long sheltered thee in my
dwelling; but the time has arrived when thou must quit it.  Come to my
office, and I will discharge the debt I owe thee.  Neither shall thy
present intemperate language mar thy future fortunes, if thou wilt
hearken to the advice of one who is by many years thy senior.”

The ungovernable feeling that caused the violence of the youth had
passed away, and he stood gazing after the retiring figure of
Marmaduke, with a vacancy in his eye that denoted the absence of his
mind.  At length he recollected himself, and, turning his head slowly
around the apartment, he beheld Elizabeth, still seated on the sofa,
but with her head dropped on her bosom, and her face again concealed
by her hands.

“Miss Temple,” he said—all violence had left his manner—” Miss Temple—
I have forgotten myself—forgotten you.  You have heard what your
father has decreed, and this night I leave here.  With you, at least,
I would part in amity.”

Elizabeth slowly raised her face, across which a momentary expression
of sadness stole; but as she left her seat, her dark eyes lighted with
their usual fire, her cheek flushed to burning, and her whole air
seemed to belong to another nature.

“I forgive you, Edwards, and my father will forgive you,” she said,
when she reached the door.  “You do not know us, but the time may come
when your opinions shall change—”

“Of you! never!” interrupted the youth; “I—”

“I would speak, sir, and not listen.  There is something in this
affair that I do not comprehend; but tell the Leather-Stocking he has
friends as well as judges in us.  Do not let the old man experience
unnecessary uneasiness at this rupture.  It is impossible that you
could increase his claims here; neither shall they be diminished by
any thing you have said.  Mr. Edwards, I wish you happiness, and
warmer friends,”

The youth would have spoken, but she vanished from the door so
rapidly, that when he reached the hall her form was nowhere to be
seen.  He paused a moment, in stupor, and then, rushing from the
house, instead of following Marmaduke in his “office,” he took his way
directly for the cabin of the hunters.