the side of the pallet. It is probable that this handsome
but rude woodsman had never before found himself so awkwardly placed,
though the inclination which Hetty felt for him (a sort of secret
yielding to the instincts of nature, rather than any unbecoming impulse
of an ill-regulated imagination), was too pure and unobtrusive to have
created the slightest suspicion of the circumstance in his mind. He
allowed Judith to put his hard colossal hand between those of Hetty, and
stood waiting the result in awkward silence.

"This is Hurry, dearest," whispered Judith, bending over her sister,
ashamed to utter the words so as to be audible to herself. "Speak to
him, and let him go."

"What shall I say, Judith?"

"Nay, whatever your own pure spirit teaches, my love. Trust to that, and
you need fear nothing."

"Good bye, Hurry," murmured the girl, with a gentle pressure of his
hand. "I wish you would try and be more like Deerslayer."

These words were uttered with difficulty; a faint flush succeeded them
for a single instant. Then the hand was relinquished, and Hetty turned
her face aside, as if done with the world. The mysterious feeling
that bound her to the young man, a sentiment so gentle as to be almost
imperceptible to herself, and which could never have existed at all, had
her reason possessed more command over her senses, was forever lost in
thoughts of a more elevated, though scarcely of a purer character.

"Of what are you thinking, my sweet sister?" whispered Judith "Tell me,
that I may aid you at this moment."

"Mother--I see Mother, now, and bright beings around her in the lake.
Why isn't father there? It's odd that I can see Mother, when I can't see
you! Farewell, Judith."

The last words were uttered after a pause, and her sister had hung over
her some time, in anxious watchfulness, before she perceived that
the gentle spirit had departed. Thus died Hetty Hutter, one of those
mysterious links between the material and immaterial world, which, while
they appear to be deprived of so much that it is esteemed and necessary
for this state of being, draw so near to, and offer so beautiful an
illustration of the truth, purity, and simplicity of another.

Chapter XXXII

"A baron's chylde to be begylde!
it were a cursed dede:
To be felawe with an outlawe!
Almighty God forbede!
Yea, better were, the pore squy
re alone to forest yede,
Then ye sholde say another day,
that b