“Segwuna! Segwuna! I have just learned that Mr. Barclugh has been stricken with the peste, and father has started to go to him.
“Oh! Segwuna! what shall I do? What shall I do? I am fearful that something will happen to him, and father would not let me go to help nurse him,” as she burst into a fit of heart-rending sobs and buried her head on Segwuna’s breast.
“Do not weep, my sweetheart. If you cannot go, Segwuna can go. I will go and take the medicine that will save him. Do not fear, my dear.
“Segwuna will nurse him back to you. Be calm and let me get ready. It will not take me long to reach his side.”
Segwuna went to her mother and gave her a few directions; in a few minutes she was ready with a bundle of herbs, and with light step, and the light of a guardian angel shining out of her beautiful eyes, she and Mollie took the winding path down to the Wingohocking, then through the avenue of hemlocks to the highway that led to Philadelphia.
Mollie stopped at the huge gate at the roadside and kissed Segwuna thrice, as she bade her Godspeed, and prayed silently:
“That the sick one would have the protection of Divine Providence in his affliction, and that God would bless the efforts of her friend, Segwuna, to lead the sick one out of the ‘valley of the shadow of death,’ and bring him nearer to his God and His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“God bless you,” was the parting salutation to Segwuna as Mollie stood and watched the Indian maiden go lightly on her mission of mercy.
She watched her until Segwuna was a mere speck in the roadway, and then turned silently to go to her bed-chamber to pray for the man, whom she felt was dear to her, yet she could not tell why.