Around the "Castle" were high palisades, inclosing a considerable area, within which the huts of the Indians were constructed. Rising considerably above the rest, were two wooden buildings, in the erection of which European workmanship was apparent. The one was a large oblong building, regularly roofed and shingled like that of any English settler. It consisted of two stories, and in the upper one regular framed windows were to be seen. In the lower story there were none; light being admitted by the door. That lower story, however, was floored with plain pine-boards, and divided by a sort of curtain into two equal compartments.
The other building bore the appearance of a church in miniature, with a small cottage or hut attached, which was, in reality, the residence of the missionary, Mr. Gore. Around the village, or Castle, were wide, well-cultivated fields, which had evidently lately borne maize, or some other crops of grain; and let not the reader, acquainted with the habits of Indians as they are at present, be surprised to find the art of husbandry practised at this period amongst the rude denizens of the forest; for, to the shame of civilized man be it spoken, the Indians have assuredly lost much socially, and gained little religiously, by the intercourse with the white invaders of their country. The crushing weight of despondency, a sort of morbid awe of the superiority of the white race, seems to have beaten down a spirit of enterprise which formerly bid fair to regenerate the people, and to replace them in a position which they probably at one time occupied.
Such, however, as I have described, was the appearance of a large Indian village, or Castle, in the year one thousand seven hundred and fifty-seven; and we find, from the statements of many an eye-witness, that the wild hunter of the woods, the fierce combatant in the battle, was, in his calmer moments, not at all insensible to many of the advantages and comforts of civilized life. But we refused to lead them on the way; we used their blood and their energies for our service; we even bought and profited by their fierce barbarity; and, instead of giving them, while it was possible, the arts of peace and the benefits of cultivation, we furnished them with the "fire-water," we contaminated them with our vices, and degraded them morally, physically, and intellectually. Great was our offence against our fellow-man; great must be the sin in the eyes of a just God.
The forest had disappeared; all that could be seen appeared as if rolling in grey masses along the distant country. The purple light of evening, increasing in richness every moment as the day declined, spread over the whole scene, and was reflected from the bosom of the lake. Many a light canoe was skimming along over the water, many a one was lying motionless while the Indian fisherman pursued his sport. The blue smoke curled up high and straight in the calm air from the doors of several huts within the inclosure; and, from the maize-fields without, the pleasant musical sounds of children's voices were heard, as the young people of the village wandered here and there, gathering up scattered ears of corn, which had fallen in the rude reaping of the harvest. In one place even a song was heard; and, in short, the whole scene, instead of being one of rude barbarism and fierce, active passion, indicated calm domestic peace, such as is rarely pictured in the common, but exaggerated, descriptions of Indian life. It might serve my purpose better to describe it differently; but such I find it, and so it must remain.
Even Edith was surprised to find the home of Otaitsa so different from the ideas conveyed to her by the wandering traders, who, even while carrying on commercial intercourse with the tribes, were in a state of semihostility towards the Indians, representing them as bloody savages, and cheating them wherever they could.
Slowly walking on between her two negro companions--for she was tired with a longer walk than usual--Edith approached the open gates of the Castle, and met with no opposition in entering. A tall, handsome warrior passed out, fully clothed, in Indian costume, and only distinguished from civilized man by the shaved head and the painfully significant scalp-lock. His step was stately and calm; and his air grave and reserved. Twice he turned his eyes upon Edith's face with a look of evident wonder and admiration; but he took no farther notice, and passed on.
He was the only individual whom she saw on entering the village; till, after passing through many huts, where women and children were to be seen busily employed, she came in sight of the door of the chief's house, and beheld there a figure seated on the ground quietly engaged in the art of embroidery, after the fashion in which the Indian women so greatly excel. It was a figure which she knew well; and the tranquil air and easy grace, as well as the quiet, peaceful employment, showed Edith at once that she had not been mistaken in supposing that Otaitsa was altogether ignorant of the peril of one dear to them both.
As she came near, she heard that the Indian girl, in her happy ignorance, was singing a sweet but somewhat plaintive song; and, the next moment, Otaitsa, raising her eyes, beheld the three figures, and at once perceived that they were not of her people. For a moment, she did not know Edith in her Indian garb; but when she did recognize her, the emotion produced was alarm rather than joy. She felt at once that some great and important event--some occurrence full of peril or of sorrow--must have brought Edith thither. The beautiful lips parted with a tremulous motion; the large, dark eye, Indian in its colour, but European in its form, became full of anxiety; the rosy hue of her cheek, which probably had obtained for her the name of the Blossom, faded away; and paleness spread over the clear brown skin.
Starting up, however, she cast the embroidery away from her, and, springing forward, threw her arms round Edith's neck. Then, as her head rested on her fair companion's shoulder, she asked, in a whisper--
"What is it, my sister? There must be a storm in the sky--there must be lightning in the cloud! What tempest-wind has swept my sister hither? What flood of sorrow has borne Edith to Otaitsa?"