Free Twice-Told Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne Page B

even religious prejudice could harden
into stone. "God forbid that I should leave this child to perish,
though he comes of the accursed sect," said he to himself. "Do we not
all spring from an evil root? Are we not all in darkness till the
light doth shine upon us? He shall not perish, neither in body nor, if
prayer and instruction may avail for him, in soul." He then spoke
aloud and kindly to Ilbrahim, who had again hid his face in the cold
earth of the grave:
    "Was every door in the land shut against you, my child, that you have
wandered to this unhallowed spot?"
    "They drove me forth from the prison when they took my father thence,"
said the boy, "and I stood afar off watching the crowd of people; and
when they were gone, I came hither, and found only this grave. I knew
that my father was sleeping here, and I said, 'This shall be my
home.'"
    "No, child, no, not while I have a roof over my head or a morsel to
share with you," exclaimed the Puritan, whose sympathies were now
fully excited. "Rise up and come with me, and fear not any harm."
    The boy wept afresh, and clung to the heap of earth as if the cold
heart beneath it were warmer to him than any in a living breast. The
traveller, however, continued to entreat him tenderly, and, seeming to
acquire some degree of confidence, he at length arose; but his slender
limbs tottered with weakness, his little head grew dizzy, and he
leaned against the tree of death for support.
    "My poor boy, are you so feeble?" said the Puritan. "When did you
taste food last?"
    "I ate of bread and water with my father in the prison," replied
Ilbrahim, "but they brought him none neither yesterday nor to-day,
saying that he had eaten enough to bear him to his journey's end.
Trouble not thyself for my hunger, kind friend, for I have lacked food
many times ere now."
    The traveller took the child in his arms and wrapped his cloak about
him, while his heart stirred with shame and anger against the
gratuitous cruelty of the instruments in this persecution. In the
awakened warmth of his feelings he resolved that at whatever risk he
would not forsake the poor little defenceless being whom Heaven had
confided to his care. With this determination he left the accursed
field and resumed the homeward path from which the wailing of the boy
had called him. The light and motionless burden scarcely impeded his
progress, and he soon beheld the fire-rays from the windows of the
cottage which he, a native of a distant clime, had built in the
Western wilderness. It was surrounded by a considerable extent of
cultivated ground, and the dwelling was situated in the nook of a
wood-covered hill, whither it seemed to have crept for protection.
    "Look up, child," said the Puritan to Ilbrahim, whose faint head had
sunk upon his shoulder; "there is our home."
    At the word "home" a thrill passed through the child's frame, but he
continued silent. A few moments brought them to the cottage door, at
which the owner knocked; for at that early period, when savages were
wandering everywhere among the settlers, bolt and bar were
indispensable to the security of a dwelling. The summons was answered
by a bond-servant, a coarse-clad and dull-featured piece of humanity,
who, after ascertaining that his master was the applicant, undid the
door and held a flaring pine-knot torch to light him in. Farther back
in the passageway the red blaze discovered a matronly woman, but no
little crowd of children came bounding forth to greet their father's
return.
    As the Puritan entered he thrust aside his cloak and displayed
Ilbrahim's face to the female.
    "Dorothy, here is a little outcast whom Providence hath put into our
hands," observed he. "Be kind to him, even as if he were of those dear
ones who have departed from us."
    "What pale and bright-eyed little boy is this, Tobias?" she inquired.
"Is he one whom the wilderness-folk have ravished from some Christian
mother?"
    "No, Dorothy; this poor child is no captive from the wilderness," he
replied.