The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1858-09-23
The knight Fasts

CHAfl IN
The Knight Fasts.
Il think wise and constant man ought never u
grisve while he doth play, as a man may say his owl
mart truly, though others be out"-ST Philip Sidney.
aLei any set his heart these days, do what
rgbt and nothing sc; and il will he long ere hi
bow Is stamped with all that goes make up the hero
zeal expression-wilh noble Indignation, noble sefre
rrant great hopes great sorrows; PERHAPS even, will
The srint oflhe martyrs of tho ms r-Kussisy.
"And David went to Samuel, to Nsioth o.
Ramah, and dwelt there;" these words, BY
some perhaps whimsical association, kept run
ming in my head this morning, while sat with
Clara Arden. David had been high in favor
and in hope He had fallen through no fault
of his. He had been forced to leave all, home
kindred, friends, and even his beleved-and
she was a princess-and had taken refuge on
the mountain, with the grim old prophet. The
gentle shepherd was in process of change into
the kingy warrior. Nursed by love and song,
he had become the pupil of hero-fashioning I'D
versty He had thrown the harp from his fine
touch, and was learning to say, Lord, teach
my hands to war, and my fingers to fight" he
was anointed indeed, but uncrowned; and his
peaceful, harmonious, kindly life, was doomed
to be henceforwsrd long battle. David seem.
to stand before mo in a picture, which Clara
took me into her sitting room to see, and wep,
while she looked at.
1t was a large picture, admirably painted in
oils, of youth in the morning Of manhood.
He stood alone in a wild mountain landscape
with lightning darling from q heavy, leaden'
and lurid cloud above him, and all the air
around him dsrkened with look of thunder
out of which his face seemed almost to shine
10 the glare of The fash. A coat of shaggy skin
was grit about his slight waist with soldiers
sash. He held and lightly leaned upon rife
in his right hand and scarcely needed to be
told, as | was, that the grasp of that slender
hand had been at need like the grippe of death,
which only death could unloose, nor that the
moccasined foot, planted so lightly and firmly
among the crags where he stood, was as sure
and almost as swift as that of the huge.horned
Rocky Mountain sheep, which, perched just
above him, looked down upon him con6dingly,
while beneath him, on the other side, wolf
skulked away. His features were of the finest
and rarest Rom an type, at once regular, sym.
meiricsl, delicate, and noble. His coloring was
dark, mellow, warm, and clear. Such outlines
with such TINS would alone suffice to make a
very handsome man. There was an expression
about this man, which made him far more than
that. Slight as he was, he looked 80 mysteri-
ously, infinitely, full of power and life-not the
ugly, gross, soulless, material life of the prize
fighter or the anaconda, but the irresistible
nerve and energy of some superhuman man or
manly angell 1t was easy to see that it was
a high and strong heart, which sent up the
generous red blood to bear witness of it in
those smooth olive cheeks. That mouth was
not more sweet than strong. Those deep, dark,
musing eyes seemed overcast and darkened
with the shadow of approaching doom, to feel,
but not to fear it. Oas would not like to meet
q foe in such man. With such man at
ones side, one would scarcely fear to cope with
any other foe. Resolute, concentrated, imperi.
al, impassioned, more than passionate, he
seemed as if born to subdue first himself and
then the world. If he was such in the dawn
Of manhood, what wGs he in its prime? What
and where are such men in their prime? Go,
ask the seraphim In what age has the world
not rejected some of those of whom it was not
worthy? They overcame it; but the Cross by
which, like their Master, they conquer, lifts
them from it !; they shake its dust from their
climbing feet, and leave it beneath them; and
cloud receives them out of their sight.
But was it SO with Hermann Let us hope
not. Let US go on, and we shall see. He had
anboyed himself wonderfully in the few months
of bis absence. Perhaps we are, many of US,
made old by months, and days even, rather
than by years. There was an alteration in him
shich, though she would hardly own it even to
herself, surprised and disappointed Clara. She
felt it from the first, even in the bright week
that she snd her brothers spent, Immediately
after his arrival, at Sea Farm, that they might
not fail of their annual pilgrimage. She had a
moreassiduous, considerate, and devoted brother
than she had ever had before; but be no longer
needed that she should devote herself to him.
She bad got back man instead of q STRIPPING
and he seemed to her sort of changeling. She
admired, respected, and loved the man but,
then, she missed the boy. 1t was'al very we'll
to have some one to pet her, but she had al.
ways had Ned to serve her in that capacity. II
1t had not been for Tommy and Bessy, she did
not know what she should have done now for
something TO pet. She tried to convince her.
self that it was the bronze and beard of travel
that made half the difference in him, and her
fancy the rest but when the former wore Off
the latter remained the same-if it was q
fancy; but she had, howsoever slowly and un.
willingly, to make up her mind that it was net
dis face was very handsome still-far hand
somer than ever before, Edward said-but il
was not the dear old young face, which had
leaned on her shoulder go often, and which she
had been promising herself, every day for weeks
past, that she should soon see again. That va:
gone-nobody knew where-and she should
never see it again. She could have cried to
think SO. The look that Constance had won
dered at and admired, in spite of herself, in
B her last interview with him, had become, wher
arrest, the most hsbitual expression of his coun
tenanCe. 1t was often, at such times, almost
stern in Its determination. There was that ir
1t which showed that the soul within had thrown
It's silken robes of dalance of, and put it,
armor on. At such times, Clara often sat and
watched him, unobserved, until her Interest
grew to pain, as if the change had put some
barrier, inexplicable but impossible, between
him and her; and then she would rise involun
tarily, go to him, and put her hand in his, OF
force some playful speech, when out would
come his own old smile, all the more sweet and
bright by contrast, and show her that, howso
ever it might be towards others, towards her he
could not change, except to become less hel
charge and play-fellow, and more her protector
and, If che would have it so, her counsellor
Ii she reverenced him more than before. he
reVerenced her no less. He was very little dis
posed to assume the part of Mentor, which she
soon began to fnd it more and more convenient
to assign to him. When she came to him fol
advice, it always seemed to surprise him
though, when he gave it, it was usually sensi