“Unfold thy purpose, daughter,” said Samoset.
Acashee saw that her father read her mind clearly—knew the hatred she bore to Hope Vines—knew of a something, which was not hate, that made her heart throb at the name of John Bonyton—knew that he saw how the abduction of the girl would work out her own revenge. She answered, at length, in a clear, low voice:
“Wa-ain loves the games and festivals of the tribes; what hinders that she should join in a dance before the departure of John Bonyton?”
“Why before his departure?” This from her father.
“Because, when he is gone, Wa-ain will no more be seen abroad; like the wood-pigeon, she will seek the deepest shades, and thence go to the spirit-land.”
The council was prolonged still further, but at length the hint of Acashee was accepted, and it was resolved to induce Hope to join the Indians in one of their annual festivals, in the progress of which it would be easy to so far remove her from observation, that a few trusty agents could carry her far beyond the reach of her own people.
Acashee retired, glad to hide her exultation at this plan to separate the lovers, from the penetrating eye of her father.