Part 19 (1/2)

CHAPTER XVII.

A very Peculiar Person appears and disappears, and the Castaways are filled alternately with Hope and Fear.

”How long we slept I have not the least idea. It may have been a whole day, or it may have been two days. It was not a twenty years' sleep, (how we wished it was!) like that of Rip Van Winkle, yet it was a very long sleep; and, indeed, neither of us cared how long it lasted, we were so heartbroken about what seemed to be the greatest misfortune that had yet happened to us. If we woke up at any time, we went to sleep again as quickly as possible, not caring at all to come back any sooner than was necessary to the contemplation of our miserable situation,--never reflecting for a moment that the situation had not been changed in the least by the unknown man who had appeared and disappeared in such a mysterious way. But the sight of him had brought our thoughts freshly back to the world from which we had been cut off,--a world with human beings in it like ourselves; and it was not unnatural, therefore, that we should be made miserable by the event. And so we slept on and on, and thus we drowned everything but our dreams, which are everywhere very apt to be most bright and cheering in the most gloomy and despondent times.

Such, at least, was the case with me; and if I could have kept dreaming and dreaming on forever, about pleasant things to eat, and pleasant people talking to me, I should have been quite well satisfied.

”Thus you see what a great number of ups and downs we had,--sometimes being cheerful and fully resigned, then again buried in the very depths of despair. Sometimes we felt real pleasure in the life to which we had become so well accustomed; and it seemed to us, as we chatted together in our warm and well-lighted hut, that, since every necessary want was well supplied, and we were entirely free from care, we should be well satisfied to continue in that situation all our lives. We had, in truth, few troubles and few anxieties. Food, fuel, and clothing we possessed in abundance, and no fears crossed our minds that they would ever fail us.

”But this satisfactory state of mind, so natural at times, was apt to be broken up by a very slight occurrence,--unusual fatigue, a restless sleep, a severe storm confining us to the hut for many days together, or by the disappointment we so often experienced when an object which we had confidently believed to be a s.h.i.+p proved to be but an iceberg. Nor was this more unnatural than that we should at times be perfectly happy and well contented. Thus are we all made, and thus are we all, at times, inconsistent; being often unhappy when there is no a.s.signable cause, and often experiencing the sense of great happiness, under circ.u.mstances apparently the most distressing.

”You will see, therefore, that there is but one way for any of us to preserve an even temper and uniform disposition; that is, I mean, always to be cheerful, never despondent, ever hopeful; and this can only be attained by always feeling the real presence of G.o.d with us; when we meet with disappointment, to say in our hearts, 'Well, it was not the will of G.o.d,' or, if we meet with what seems great good fortune, 'It is the will of G.o.d that we do some good work, and therefore he has thus blessed us.' Thus only can we be truly happy. With this feeling there is always consolation in distress. It begets charity, and love, and confidence, and gentleness; it makes the heart light and the face cheerful, and the life like a sunbeam gladdening where it goes. That's what the love of G.o.d does.

”These thoughts are suggested to me by the experiences that the Dean and I were having at the time I speak of. How much more happy we should have been, had we felt always as I have last described! we should then never have been cast down, but should have been always hopeful,--never wis.h.i.+ng to sleep on and on, and thus drown sorrow. We should not have felt as we did now when the strange man had come from the frozen sea and disappeared again.

”Well, to come back to the story, we were not allowed to sleep as long as we wanted to. Our sleep was indeed brought to an end very suddenly. I was first startled by a great noise, and then, springing up, much alarmed, I aroused the Dean, who was a sounder sleeper even than myself.

”'What's the matter?' cried he.

”'Didn't you hear a noise?' I asked.

”'No!' answered the Dean; 'nothing more, at least, than a church-bell, and that was in my sleep,'--which was clear enough.

”Presently I heard the noise again, and this time it seemed to proceed from something not far off. It was now the Dean's turn to be amazed.

”'Did you hear?' I asked again.

”'Yes,' said the Dean, holding his breath to listen.

”Again the strange sound was repeated.

”'Is it the wind?'

”'How can it be? the wind does not make a noise like that!'

”'Can it be a bear?'

”'No! it cannot be a bear!'

”'A fox? perhaps it is a fox!'

”'No, listen! there it is again.'

”The sound was louder now, and nearer to the hut. Again and again it was repeated,--nearer now and more constant; then a footfall on the crusted snow.

”'It is a man! the bear-hunter has come back again!' spoke the Dean, throwing up his hands.

”Again the noise was heard; again the footfall creaked upon the snow.

”'The bear-hunter, it must be!' cried the Dean, again.