The Missionary: An Indian Tale; vol. III

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  THE MISSIONARY:

  AN Indian Tale.

  BY MISS OWENSON.

  WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.

  IN THREE VOLUMES.

  _FOURTH EDITION._

  VOL. III.

  _LONDON_: PRINTED FOR J. J. STOCKDALE, NO 41, PALL-MALL.

  1811.

  THE MISSIONARY,

  &c.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  On the second day of their wandering, the deep shade of the forestscenery, in which they had hitherto been involved, softened into a lessimpervious gloom, the heights of the black rock of Bembhar rose on theirview, and the lovely and enchanting glen which reposes at its northernbase, and which is called the Valley of Floating Islands, burst upontheir glance. These phenomena, which appear on the bosom of the Behat,are formed by the masses of rock, by the trees and shrubs which thewhirlwind tears from the summits of the surrounding mountains, and whichare thus borne away by the fury of the torrents, and plunged into thetranquil waters beneath; these rude fragments, collected by time andchance, cemented by the river Slime, and intermixed by creeping plants,and parasite grasses, become small but lovely islets, covered withflowers, sowed by the vagrant winds, and skirted by the leaves andblossoms of the crimson lotos, the water-loving flower of Indian groves.This scene, so luxuriant and yet so animating, where all was light, andharmony, and odour, gave a new sensation to the nerves, and a new toneto the feelings of the wanderers, and their spirits were fed withbalmier airs, and their eyes greeted with lovelier objects, than hope orfancy had ever imaged to their minds.--Sometimes they stood together onthe edge of the silvery flood, watching the motion of the arbours whichfloated on its bosom, or pursuing the twinings of the harmless greenserpent, which, shining amidst masses of kindred hues, raised gracefullyhis brilliant crest above the edges of the river bank. Sometimes frombeneath the shade of umbrageous trees, they beheld the sacred animal ofIndia breaking the stubborn flood with his broad white breast, andgaining the fragrant islet, where he reposed his heated limbs; his mildcountenance shaded by his crooked horns, crowned by the foliage in whichhe had entangled them; thus reposing in tranquil majesty, he lookedlike some river-deity of antient fable.

  Flights of many-coloured perroquets, of lorys, and of peacocks,reflected on the bosom of the river the bright and various tints oftheir splendid plumage; while the cozel, the nightingale of Hindoobards, poured its song of love from the summit of the loftiest_mergosa_, the eastern lilac. It was here they found the _Jama_, or roseapple-tree, bearing ambrosial fruit--it was here that the sweet sumbal,the spikenard of the antients, spread its tresses of dusky gold over theclumps of granite, which sparkled like coloured gems amidst the saphireof the mossy soil--it was here that, at the decline of a lovely day, thewanderers reached the shade of a natural arbour, formed by the union ofa tamarind-tree with the branches of a _covidara_, whose purple androse-coloured blossoms mingled with the golden fruit which, to theIndian palate, affords so delicious a refreshment.

  It was Luxima who discovered this retreat so luxurious, and yet sosimple. The purity of the atmosphere, the brilliancy of the scene, hadgiven to her spirits a higher tone than usually distinguished theirlanguid character. Looking pure and light as the air she breathed, shehad bounded on before her companion, who, buried in profound reverie,seemed at once more thoughtful and more tender than he had yet appearedin look or manner. When he reached the arbour, he found Luxima seatedbeneath its shade--her brow crowned with Indian feathers, and herdelicate fingers engaged in forming a wreath of odoriferous berries;looking like the emblem of that lovely region, whose mild and deliciousclimate had contributed to form the beauty of her person, the softnessof her character, and the ardour of her imagination. No thought offuture care contracted her brow, and the smile of peace and innocencesat on her lips. Not so the Missionary: the morbid habit of watching hisown sensations had produced in him an hypochondriasm of conscience,which embittered the most blameless moments of his life; his diseasedmind discovered a lurking crime in the most innocent enjoyments; and thefear of offending Heaven, fastened his attention to objects which wereonly dangerous, by not being immediately dismissed from his thoughts.The moral economy of his nature suffered from the very means he took topreserve it; and his danger arose less from his temptation, than fromthe sensibility with which he watched its progress, and the efforts hemade to combat and to resist its influence. He now beheld Luxima morelovely than he had ever seen her; she was gracefully occupied, and therewas something picturesque, something almost _fantastic_, in herappearance, which gave the poignant charm of novelty to her air andperson. She was murmuring an Indian song, as he approached her. TheMissionary stood gazing on her for some moments in silence, thensuddenly averting his eyes, and seating himself near her, he said--“Andto what purpose, my dearest daughter, dost thou so industriously weavethose fragrant wreaths?”

  “To hang upon the bower of thy repose,” she replied, “as a spell againstevil;--for dost thou not, on every side, perceive the _bacula_ plant, soinjurious to the nerves, and whose baneful influence the odour of theseberries can alone dispel?”[1]

  “Alas!” he exclaimed, “in scenes so lovely and remote as those in whichwe now wander, who could suspect that latent evil lurked? But the evilwhich always exists, and that against which it is most difficult toguard, exists within ourselves, Luxima.”

  “Thou sayest it,” returned Luxima, “and therefore must it be true; andyet, methinks, in us at least no evil can exist--look around thee,Father; behold those hills which encompass us on every side, and which,seeming to shut out the universe, exclude all the evil passions by whichit is agitated and disordered; and since absent from all humanintercourse, our feelings relate only to each other, surely in us atleast no evil _can_ exist.”

  “Let us hope, let us trust there does not, Luxima,” said the Missionary,in strong emotion; “and oh! my daughter, let us watch and pray thatthere _may not_.”

  “And here,” said Luxima with simplicity, and suspending her work, “whereall breathes of peace and innocence, against what are we to pray?”

  “Even against _those thoughts_ which involuntarily start into the mind,and which, though confined, and perhaps referring exclusively to eachother, may yet become fatal and seductive, may yet plunge us into errorbeyond the mercy of Heaven to forgive!”

  “But if one _sole_ thought occupies the existence!” said Luxima,tenderly and with energy, “and if it is sanctified by the perfection ofits object!”

  “But to what earthly object does perfection belong, Luxima?”

  “To thee;” replied the Neophyte, blushing.

  “It is the ardour of thy gratitude only,” said the Missionary withvehemence, “which bestows on me, an epithet belonging alone to Heaven.And lovely as is this purest of human sentiments, yet, _being human_, itis liable to corruption, and may be carried to an excess fatal to usboth; for, oh! Luxima, were I to avail myself of this excess ofgratitude, this pure but unguarded tenderness, and in wilds solitaryand luxuriant as these, where happiness and security might mingle,where, forgetting the world, and its opinions, abandoning alike _heaven_and its _cause_!”--he paused abruptly--he trembled, and a deep groanburst from a heart, agitated by all the conflicting emotions of asensitive consci
ence, and an imperious passion.

  Luxima, moved by his agitation--tender, timid, yet always happy andtranquilly blessed in the presence of him, the idol of her secretthoughts, and fearing only those incidents which might impede theinnocent felicity of being near him--endeavoured to soothe hisperturbation, and, taking his hand in hers, and bending her head towardshim, she looked on his eyes with innocent fondness, and her sighs,sweet as the incense of the evening, breathed on his burning cheek!Then the sacred fillet of religion fell from his eyes; he threwhimself at her feet, and pressing her hands to his heart, he saidpassionately--“Luxima, tell me, dost thou not belong exclusively toHeaven? Recall to my wandering mind that sacred vow, by which I solemnlydevoted thee to its service, at the baptismal font! Oh! my daughter,thou wouldst not destroy me? thou wouldst not arm Heaven against me,Luxima?”

  “I!” returned Luxima tenderly, “I destroy thee, who art dear to me asheaven itself!”

  “Oh! Luxima,” he exclaimed in emotion, “look not thus on me! tell menot that I am dear to thee, or....” At that moment his rosary fell tothe earth, and lay at the feet of the Indian.

  An incident so natural and so simple struck on the conscience of theMissionary, as though the Minister of Divine wrath had blasted his gazewith his accusing presence;--he grew pale and shuddered, his arms fellback upon his breast;--overpowered by shame, and by self-abhorrence,rushing from the bower, he plunged into the thickest shade of the grove;there he threw himself on the earth; and that mind, once so high andlofty in its own conscious triumph, was now again sunk and agonized bythe conviction of its own debasement. From this state of unsupportablehumiliation, he was awakened by the sound of horses’ feet; he raised hiseyes, and beheld approaching an Indian, who led a small Arabian horse,laden with empty panniers: the Missionary hastily arose--and thestranger, moved by the dignity of his form, and the disorder of his paleand haggard countenance, gave him the _Salaam_; and invited him, withthe hospitable courtesy of his country, to repair to his cottage, whichlay at a little distance,--“Or perhaps,” he said, “you wish to overtakethe caravan, and--”

  “To _overtake_ it!” interrupted the Missionary; “has it then longpassed?”

  “It halts now,” returned the peasant; “on the other side of _Bembhar_,I have been disposing of some _touz_[2] to a merchant of Tatta; if youhave no other mode of proceeding, you will scarcely overtake it onfoot.”

  A new cause of suffering now occupied his mind.--Luxima, hithertocheered and supported by the lovely and enlivening scenes through whichshe passed, by the smoothness of her path and the temperature of hernative climes, was yet wearied and exhausted by a journey performed ina manner to which the delicacy of her frame was little adequate--but itwas now impossible she could proceed as she had hitherto done; in a fewhours the Eden which had cheated fatigue of its influence, woulddisappear from their eyes; and, should the caravan have proceeded muchin advance, it was impossible that the delicate Indian could encounterthe horrors of the desart which lay on the southern side of Bembhar.

  It was then that, believing Providence had sent the Indian in his path,a new hope revived in his heart, a new resource was opened in hismind:--he offered a part of what remained of the purse of rupees he hadbrought with him from Lahore, for the Arabian horse. It was more thanits value, and the Indian gladly accepted his proposal, and, pointingout to him the shortest way to _Bembhar_, and offering his good wishesfor the safety of his journey, he pursued his way to his cottage. Assoon as he had disappeared, Hilarion led the animal to the bower, whereLuxima still remained, involved in reveries so soft, and yet soprofound, that she observed not the approach of him who was their soleand exclusive object.

  “Luxima!” he said in a low and tremulous voice--Luxima started, and,covered with blushes, she raised her languid eyes to his, and faintlyanswered--“_Father!_”

  “My daughter,” he said, “that Heaven, of whose favour I at least am sounworthy, has mercifully extended its providential care to us. Astranger, whom I met in the forest, has informed me, that the caravanhas passed the rock of Bembhar; but I have purchased from him thisanimal, by which thou wilt be able to proceed!”

  Luxima arose, and, drawing her veil over a face in which the lovelyconfusion of a sensitive modesty and ardent tenderness still lingered,she suffered the Missionary to place her on the gentle Arabian--and hemoving with long and rapid steps by her side, they again renewed theirpilgrimage.

  Already the bloom and verdure of Cashmire appeared fading into theapproaching heights of the sterile Bembhar, and the travellers, silentand thoughtful, ascended those acclivities, which seemed but to reflectthe smiling lustre of the scenes they left; no sound, even of nature,disturbed the profound silence of scenes--so still and solemn, that theyresembled the primæval world, ere human existence had given animation toits pathless wilds, or human passions had disturbed the calm of its mildtranquillity! No sound was heard, save the jackall’s dismal yell, whichso often disturbs the impressive and serene beauty of Indian scenery.

  But this death-like calm failed to communicate a correspondent influenceto the bosom of the solitary wanderers:--again together, in a boundlesssolitude, they were yet silent, as though they feared a human accentwould destroy the impassioned mystery which existed between them; whilereligion and penitence, and delicacy and self-distrust, enforced thenecessity of a reserve, to which both alike submitted with difficultybut with fortitude. Solitude, with the object of a suppressedtenderness, is always too dangerous! and that great passion which seeksa desart, finds the proper region of its own empire. Thus, thosehelpless and tender friends, in whom love and grace struggled with equalsway, now eagerly looked forward to their restoration to society, whichwould afford them that protection against themselves, which nature, inher loveliest regions, had hitherto seemed to refuse them.

  The travellers at last reached the summit of the _rock of Bembhar_; and,ere they descended the wild and burning plains of Upper Lahore, theIndian turned round to take a last view of her native Eden. The sun wassetting in all his majesty of light upon the valley; and villages, andpagodas, and groves, and rivers, were brilliantly tinted with hiscrimson rays. Luxima cast one look in that direction where lay thedistrict of Sirinaur--another towards Heaven--and then fixed her tearfuleyes on the Missionary, with an expression so eloquent and so ardent,that they seemed to say, “Heaven and earth have I resigned forthee!”--The Missionary met and returned her look, but dared not trusthis lips to speak; and, in the sympathy and intelligence of that silentglance, the Indian found country, kindred, friends; or ceased for amoment to remember she had lost them all.

  Sad, silent, and gloomy, resembling the first pair, when they hadreached the boundary of their native paradise, they now descended thesouthern declivities of Bembhar: the dews of Cashmire no longer embalmedthe evening air, and the heated vapours which arose from the plainsbelow, rendered the atmosphere insupportably intense.

  As they reached the plains of Upper Lahore, a few dark shrubs andblasted trees alone presented themselves in the hot and sandy soil; andwhen a stalk of rosemary and lavender, or the scarlet tulip of thedesert, tempted the hand of the Missionary, for her to whom flowers werealways precious, they mouldered into dust at his touch!

  Luxima endeavoured to stifle a sigh, as she beheld nature in this hermost awful and destructive aspect--and the Missionary, with a sad smile,sought to cheer her drooping spirit, by pointing out to her the track ofthe caravan, or the snowy summit of _Mount Alideck_, which arose like aland-mark before them. Having paused for a short time, while theMissionary ascended a rock, to perceive if the caravan was inview--which if it had been, the light of a brilliant moon would havediscovered,--they proceeded during the night, in sadness and in gloom,while the intense thirst produced by the ardour of the air had alreadyexhausted the juicy fruits with which the Missionary had suppliedhimself for Luxima’s refreshment; at last the faint glimmering of thestars was lost in the brighter lustre of the morning-planet; theresplendent herald of day, riding in serene lustre through
the heavens,ushered in the vigorous sun, whose potent rays rapidly pervaded thewhole horizon.--The fugitives found themselves near a large and solitaryedifice; it was a _Choultry_, built for the shelter of travellers, and,as an inscription indicated, “built by _Luxima_, the _Prophetess andBramachira of Cashmire_!”--At the sight of this object, the Indianturned pale--all the glory and happiness of her past life rushed on therecollection of the excommunicated Chancalas; and her guide, feeling inall their force the sacrifices which she had made for him, silently andtenderly chased away her tears, with her veil. As it was impossible toproceed during the meridional ardours of the day, the wearied andexhausted Indian sought shelter and repose beneath that roof which herown charity had raised; and a cocoa-tree, planted on the edge of a tankwhich she had excavated, afforded to her that refreshment, which she hadbenevolently provided for others. Here, it was evident, the caravan hadlately halted; for the remains of some provisions, usually left byIndian travellers for those who may succeed them, were visible, and thetrack of wheels, of horses, and of camels’ feet, was every whereapparent. Revived and invigorated by an hour’s undisturbed repose, theyagain re-commenced their route; still pursuing the track of the caravan,while, in forms rendered indistinct by distance, they still fancied theybeheld the object of their pursuit. Scenes more varied than thosethrough which they had already journeyed, now presented themselves totheir view. Sometimes they passed through a ruined village, which theflame of war had desolated; sometimes beneath the remains of a Mogulfortress, whose mouldering arches presented the most picturesquespecimens of eastern military architecture; while from the marshy fosse,which surrounded the majestic ruins, arose a bright blue flame, andmoving with velocity amidst its mouldering bastions, floating likewaves, or falling like sparks of fire, became suddenly extinct--Luximagazed upon this spectacle with fear and amazement, and, governed by thesuperstition of her early education, saw, in a natural phenomenon, theeffects of a supernatural agency; trembling, she clung to her pastor andher guide, and said, “It is the spirit of one who fell in the battle, orwho died in the defence of these ruins, and who, for some crimeunredeemed, is thus destined to wander till the time of expiation isaccomplished, and he return into some form on earth.”

  The Missionary sought to release her mind from the bondage of imaginaryterrors, and at once to amuse her fancy, to enlighten her ideas, and toelevate her soul; he explained to her, with ingenious simplicity, thevarious and wonderful modes by which the Divine Spirit disposes of thedifferent powers of nature, still teaching her to feel “God in all, andall in God.”

  Luxima gazed on him with wonder while he spoke, and hung in silentadmiration on words she deemed inspired; yet when, as it sometimesoccurred, she beheld the rude altars raised, even in the mostunfrequented places to _Boom-Daivee_, the goddess of the earth[3]; or tothe Daivadergoel, the tutelar guardians of wilds and forests, her sensesacknowledged these images of her antient superstition, in spite of herreason, and she involuntarily bowed before the objects of her habitualdevotion. Then the Missionary reproved her severely for the perpetualvacillation of her undecided faith; but, disarming his severity by looksand words of tenderness, she would fondly reply--“Oh! my Father! it isnot all devotion which bows my head and bends my knee before these wellremembered shrines of my antient faith! Alas! it is not all a piousimpulse, but a natural sympathy: for the genii to whom these altars areraised, were once, as I was, happy and glorified; but they incurred thewrath of _Shiven_,[4] by abandoning his laws; and, banished from theirnative heaven, were doomed to wander in solitary wastes to expiate theirerror:--but here, that sympathy ceases; for they found not, like me, acompensation for the paradise they forfeited; _they_ found not on earth,something which partook of heaven, and they knew not that perfectcommunion, which images to the soul, in its transient probation throughtime, the bliss which awaits it in eternity.”

  It was by words like these, timidly and tenderly pronounced, that thefeelings of the spiritual guide were put to the most severe test; it waswords like these, which chilled his which increased the hiddensentiment, manner, while they warmed his heart; and restrained theexternal emotion, and which cherished and fed his passion, while theyawakened his self-distrust: but Luxima, at once his peril and hissalvation, counteracted by her innocence the effects of her tenderness,and alternately awakened, excited or subdued, by that feminine displayof feeling and sentiment, which blended purity with ardour, andelevation of soul with tenderness of heart. More sensitive thanreflecting, she was guided rather by an instinctive delicacy, than aprudent reserve; in _her_, sentiment supplied the place of reason, andshe was the most virtuous, because she was the most affectionate ofwomen.

  The evening again arose upon their wanderings, and they paused ere theyproceeded to encounter the pathless way through the gloom of night; theypaused near the edge of a spring, which afforded a deliciousrefreshment; and, under the shadow of a lofty tamarind-tree, which,blooming in solitary beauty, supplied at once both fruit and shade, andseemed dropt in the midst of a lonesome waste, as a beacon to hope, asan assurance of the providential care of _him_, who reared its head inthe desert for the relief of his creatures. Here the Missionary leftLuxima to take repose; and, having fastened the _Arabian_ to aneighbouring rock, embossed with patches of vegetation, he proceededacross some stoney acclivities which were covered by the caprice ofnature with massy clumps of the _bamboo tree_. When he had reached theopposite side, he looked back to catch, as he was wont, a glimpse ofLuxima; but, for the first time since the commencement of theirpilgrimage, she was hidden from his view by the intervening foliage ofthe plantation, trembling at the fancied dangers which might assail herin his absence: he proceeded with a rapid step towards an eminence, inthe hope of ascertaining, from its summit, the path of the caravan, orof discovering some human habitation, though but the hut of a _pariah_,whose owner might guide their now uncertain steps. Turning his eyestowards the still glowing West, he perceived a forest whose immensetrees marked their waving outline on saffron clouds, which hungradiantly upon their gloom, tinging their dark branches with the yellowlustre of declining light; he perceived also, that this awful andmagnificent forest was skirted by an illimitable jungle, through whoselong-entangled grass a broad path-way seemed to have been recentlyformed, and, vision growing strong by exercise, the first confusion ofobjects which had distracted his gaze, gradually subsiding into distinctimages, he perceived the blue smoke curling from a distant hut, which heknew, from its desolate situation, to be the miserable residence of some_Indian outcast_; he soon more distinctly observed some great body inmotion: at first it appeared compact and massive; by degrees broken andirregular; and at last the form and usual pace of a troop of camelswere obvious to his far-stretched sight, by a deep red light whichsuddenly illumined the whole firmament, and, throwing its extended beamsinto the distant fore-ground, fell, with bright tints, upon everyobject, and confirmed the Missionary in hopes, he almost trembled toencourage, that the caravan at that moment moved before his eyes! Butthe joy was yet imperfect; unshared by _her_, who was now identifiedwith all his hopes and all his fears; and descending the hill with therapidity of lightning, he suddenly perceived his steps impeded by aphenomenon which at first seemed some sudden vision of the fancy, towhich the senses unresistingly submitted; for a brilliant circle of firegradually extending, forbid his advance, and had illuminated, by itskindling light, the surrounding atmosphere! Recovering from the firstemotion of horror and consternation, his knowledge of the naturalhistory of the country soon informed him of the cause of the apparentmiracle[5], without reconciling him to its effects; he perceived thatthe _bamboos_, violently agitated by a strong and sultry wind, whichsuddenly arose from the South, and crept among their branches, hadproduced a violent friction in their dry stalks, which emitted sparks offire, and which, when communicated to their leaves, produced on theirsummits one extended blaze, which was now gradually descending to theirtrunks. Though this extraordinary spectacle fulfilled, rather thanviolated, a law of nature, the Missionary
’s heart, struck by theobstacle it opposed to his wishes and his views, and the terrors it heldout to his imagination, felt as if, by some interposition of Divinewrath, he had been separated, for ever, from her who had thus armedHeaven against him. Given up to a distraction which knew no bounds fromreason or religion, he accused the Eternal Judge, who, in making theobject of his error the cause of his retribution, had not proportionedhis punishment to his crime, and who had implicated in the vengeancewhich bowed _him_ to the earth, a creature free and innocent ofvoluntary error.--Yet, considering less his own sufferings, than theprobable and impending destruction of Luxima, thus exposed, alone, insolitary deserts, to want! to the inclemency of treacherous elements! tothe fury of savage beasts! perhaps to men, scarce less savage! who mightrefuse her that protection, their very presence rendered necessary--hismind and feelings were roused, even to frenzy, by the frightful imagesconjured up by a heart distracted for the safety of its sole object; andthe instinct of self-preservation, that strong and almost indestructibleinstinct, submitted to the paramount influence of a _sentiment_; butthat sentiment before which nature stood checked, blended the unitedpassions of _love_ and _pity_, the best and dearest which fill the humanbreast--and, resolved to risk his life for the salvation of hers,dearer to him still than life,--he threw around him a rapid glance, inthe faint hope of discerning some object which might assist him in theperilous enterprise he meditated, and enable him to encounter the rageof those flames which opposed his return to the goal of his solicitudeand anxiety. It was then he perceived that the surrounding rocks werecovered with the entangled web of the _mountain flax_, the inconsumable_amianthus_ of India.[6]

  At this sight, the providential care of the Divinity, who every wherepresents an _antidote_ to that evil which may eventually become thebane of human preservation, smote his heart--and, raising his soul andeyes in thankfulness to Heaven, he wrapped round his uncovered head, thefibres of this singular and indestructible fossile, and, folding hisrobe closely round his body, he plunged daringly forward, throwing asidethe branches of the burning trees, which flamed above his head, with theiron point of his crosier, as he flew over the arid path, and looking ashe moved like the mighty _spirit_ of that _element_ to which the popularsuperstition of the region he inhabited would have offered itshomage.[7] The fire had nearly exhausted itself in the direction inwhich he moved, and soon left nothing but its smoking embers to impedehis course. Scorched, spent, and almost deprived of respiration, hereached the opposite side of the plantation, and, with the recovery ofbreath and strength, he flew towards the spot where he had left hischarge, whom every new peril, by adding anxiety to love, bound moreclosely to his heart. He found her wrapt in profound slumber; themoon-light, checquered by the branches of the tree through which itfell, played on her face and bosom; but her figure was in deep shade,from its position; and a disciple of her own faith would have worshippedher, had he passed, and said, “’Tis the messenger of Heaven,[8] whobears to earth the mandate of _Vishnoo_;” for it is thus the Indian_Iris_ is sometimes mystically represented--nothing visible of itsbeauty, but the countenance of a youthful seraph. Close to the brow ofthe innocent slumberer lay, in many a mazy fold, a serpent of immensesize: his head, crested and high, rose erect; his scales of verdant goldglittered to the moon-light, and his eyes bright and fierce were fixedon the victim, whose first motion might prove the signal of her death.These two objects, so singular in their association, were aloneconspicuous in the scene, which was elsewhere hid in the massive shadowsof the projecting branches. At the sight of this image, so beautifuland so terrific, so awfully fine, so grandly dreadful, where lovelinessand death, and peace and destruction, were so closely blended, thedistracted and solitary spectator stood aghast!--A chill of horrorrunning through his veins, his joints relaxed; his limbs, transfixed andfaint, cold and powerless, fearing lest his very respiration mightaccelerate the dreadful fate which thus hung over the sole object andtie of his existence,--breathless, motionless,--he wore the perfectsemblance of that horrible suspense, which fills the awful intervalbetween impending death, and lingering life! Twice he raised his crosierto hurl it at the serpent’s head; and twice his arm fell nerveless back,while his shuddering heart doubted the certain aim of his tremblinghand,--and whether, in attempting to strike at the vigilant reptile, hemight not reach the bosom of his destined victim, and urge him to herimmediate destruction!--But, feelings so acute were not long to beendured: cold drops fell from his brow, his inflamed eye had gazeditself into dimness, increasing agony became madness,--and, unable toresist the frenzy of his thronging emotions, he raised the pastoralspear, and had nearly hurled it at the destroyer, when his arm waschecked by a sound which seemed to come from Heaven, breathing hope andlife upon his soul; for it operated with an immediate and magicinfluence on the organs of the reptile, who suddenly drooped his crestedhead, and, extending wide his circling folds, wound his mazy course, inmany an indented wave, towards that point, where some seeming impulseof the “vocal aid” lured his nature from its prey.

  Luxima slowly awakening from her sweet repose, to sounds too wellremembered, for it was the vesper hymn of the Indian huntsmen, raisedher head upon her arm, and threw wildly round her the look of one wraptin visionary trance--now resting her eye upon the Missionary, who stoodbefore her motionless, suspended between joy and horror, between fearand transport--now upon the flaming circles which hung upon the burning_bamboos_--and now on the receding serpent, whose tortuous train,veering as he moved, still glistened brightly on the earth, till slowlyfollowing the fainting sounds, his voluble and lengthening folds werelost in the deep shade of a sombre thicket;--then the Indian raised herhands and eyes to heaven in thankfulness to that Power who hadmercifully saved her from a dreadful death. The music ceased; nature hadreached the crisis of emotion in the breast of the Missionary: withoutpower to articulate or to move, he bent one knee to the earth; he raisedhis folded hands to Heaven; but his eyes were turned on the object ofits protection: he sighed out her name, and Luxima was in a moment athis side.