“Speak, my daughter,” said her father.
“Wa-ain has no heart; she will forget all but one.”
The chiefs exchanged significant glances.
“When that one is hidden from her eyes she will forget; she hears in him the lost voices of the land of perpetual spring. When he is gone, the voices now lost will come to her ear.”
Acashee glanced furtively at her father, and then said:
“Who will look to the comfort of Wa-ain?—who will spread the skins for her couch, and provide the fine food for her lips? She can not live like an Indian girl.”
“The old chief will provide, my daughter,” answered Samoset, a grim smile crossing his features, for, proud as he was of his daughter, he knew well the cruelty of her heart, and he would not trust Hope to her keeping. He continued:
“John Bonyton goes over the great water; he goes to fight in behalf of the great English father—we shall see him no more.”
In spite of her Indian nerves, Acashee trembled and turned pale at this announcement.
“How shall we obtain the person of Wa-ain? Shall we wait till John Bonyton is gone?” she at length asked.