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

The Knight Fasts
II ,hiak wise and constant ought never to
greve while he doth play, a man may say his owl
pan rsly though others be out"-Sir Philip Sidney
aLe any his heart in these days, 10 do what il
rgh and nothing and il will not he long ere h
brow stamped with all that goes make up the hero
zeal expresson-wih noble Indignation, noble selfre
rain grea, hopes great sorrows perhaps, even with
he Print oflhe martyrs crown of tho ms r-Kntgsify
"And David went to Samuel, to Naioth oil
Rsmah, 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-ard had taken refuge on
the mountain, with the grim old prophet. The
gentle shepherd WAS in process of change into
the kingly warrior. Nursed by love and song,
he had become the pupil of hero-fashioning ad
versity. 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 blu. uncrowned and his
peaceful, harmonious, kindly life, was doomed
to be henceforward long battle. David seem.
to stand before mo in picture, which Clara
took me into her sitting room to see, and wept
while she looked at.
1t was 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 heavy, leaden'
and lurid cloud above him, and all the air
around him darkened with look of thunder /;
out of which his face seemed almost to shine
in the glare of the fash. A coat of shaggy skin
was grit about his eight waist with soldier
sash. He held and lightly leaned upon rifle
in his right hand; and scarcely needed to be
told IS 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 hugehorned
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 rsrest Rom type, at once regular, sym.
metricsl, delicate, and noble. His coloring was
dark, mellow, warm, and clear. Such outlines
with such TINS would alone suffice to make
very handsome man. There was an expression
about this man, which made him far more than
that. Slight as he was, he looked 30 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 somessuperhuman man or
manly ANGEL 1t was easy to see that it was
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
foe in such a man. With such man at
ones side, one would scarcely fear to cope with
any other foe. Resolute, concentrated, imperi-
al, imprisoned, 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 primer 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
o alN and &Aa.n 4( al LII -
But was it SO with Herman? Let ms hope
not. Let us 90 on, and we shall see. He had
unboyed himself wonderfully in the few mouths
of his absence. Perhaps we are, many of US,
made old by months, and days even, rather
than by years. There was an alteration in him
Rhicb, though she would hardly own it even to
herself, surprised and disappointed Clara. She
felt ii from the frst 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 q
moreassiduous, considerable, 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 a 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'all very well
to have some one to pet her, but she had al
ways had Ned to serve her in that capacity II
it 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
His face was very handsome still-far hand
somer than ever before, Edward said-but i,
was not the dear old young face, which had
leaned on her shoulder 80 often, and which she
had been promising herself, every day for week.
past, that she should soon see again. That wal
gone-nobody knew where-snd she should
never see it again. She could have cried Il
think so. The look that Constance had won
dered at and admired, in spite of herself, il
her last interview with him, had become, wher
arrest, the most hsbitual expression of his coun
tenanLe. 1t was often, at such times, almos
stern in its determination. There was that il
1t which showed that the soul within had thrown
ITS silken robes of dalliance off, and put it
amor on. At such times, Clara often sat ant
watched him, unobssrved, until her interes
grew to pain, as if the change had put SOM
barrier, inexplicable but impossible, between
MIN and her; and then she would rise involun
tarIly, go to him, and put her hand in his, o.
force some playful speech, when out woult
come his own cd smile, all the more sweet anG
bright by contrast, and show her that, howso
ever it might be towards others, towards her b,
could not change, except to become less hel
charge and play-fellow, and mere her protector
and, If she would have it so, her counsellor
1t she reverenced him more than before, b,
reverenced her no less. He was very little dis
posed to assume the part of Mentor, which sh,
soon began to 6nd it more and more convenien
TO assign to him. When she came to him 70
advice, it always seemed to surprise him
though, when he gave it, it was usually sensi
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