"Marian Abbot—Marian Abbot—Marian," she repeated, as if communing with herself, and gazing, not at Peterson, but over his head, far away into the horizon where the purple and golden clouds were then blazing with the fire of heaven.
"Yes, that was her name," said Peterson anxious to help her. "Splendid looking gal—looked some like me—little shorter than you—purty near as good looking."
"Marian Abbot—Marian Abbot," she still repeated, drawing her hand over her forehead as if engaged in intense thought.
"Yes—I've told you that was her name."
"Have I heard of her, you ask? Have I heard of Marian Abbot?—no—yes—let me see—I remember. I saw her—no I know nothing of her!" she replied, dropping her hands from her forehead, and looking up at him with the same wild, fiery look.
"Think agin," urged Peterson, much disappointed at her manner. "You jest now said you remembered her. Put your thinkin' cap on and p'r'aps you'll find out arter all."
"No; I can't remember anything. Don't ask me to, for it hurts my head so much. Wait a moment—" she said, pressing her hand quickly to her temple again. "Marian Abbot—yes—there was such a girl—I remember her—I saw her among the Indians!—"
At this point, she turned deadly pale, and sank to the earth. That singularly foolish notion, that it was fatal to touch the Frontier Angel, prevented Peterson from springing forward to her assistance. She did not faint, however, but instantly recovered herself and bounded away in the wood without uttering another syllable.
This information, conveyed in substance, to the breathless listeners, by the ranger, thrilled every one, as we said, to the heart. It awakened, both in the father and Mansfield, a strange hope, that, from its every intensity, produced a deadly heart-sickness. Abbot reeled to his home, where, for a long time, he strove to control his agitation. He said nothing to his wife, for he was nearly unmanned, and feared he should turn crazy himself.
"O merciful Father! can my daughter be alive? Did she escape that awful massacre? Is this a dream? Am I going mad? Oh, grant that no hope may be awakened to be dashed from me again!"