“But she wants the rest without dreams that they sleep down yonder by the water; Ahmo is old, and Chileli calls. She must go.”
She was silent again for some moments, then added:
“Ahmo has a secret for her grandchild.”
“Has Ahmo kept secrets from Mahaska?” she asked, reproachfully, her heart softening strangely at the woman’s changed face and feeble manner.
“Ahmo will tell it now,” she returned. “There was no need till she was ready to go forth in search of Nemono.”
“Ahmo could have trusted her child.”
“She knows it. But Ahmo was old; she loved power; she had grown miserly—Mahaska will not be angry.”
“Mahaska is never angry with Ahmo; let her hear this secret.”
“Mahaska remembers the island lodge where she used to come and stay when a child?”
The girl’s features contracted as they always did at the mention of any thing connected with that portion of her life; but she bowed her head in token of assent and motioned the old woman to proceed, not trusting her voice lest it should startle the sick woman by the passion it betrayed.