"No, no, Prevost!" said Woodchuck. "Not a bit of it! Black Eagle made her as kind a husband as ever was seen. You might have looked all Europe and America through, and not have found as good a one. Then think of all she did, too, in the place where she was. God sent her there to make better people than she found. From the time she went, to the time she died, poor thing! there was no more war and bloodshed, or very little of it. Then she got a Christian minister amongst them--at least, he never would have been suffered to set his foot there if she had not been Black Eagle's wife. It is a hard thing to tell what's really good, and what's really evil, in this world. For my part, I think, if everything is not exactly good--which very few of us would like to say it is--yet good comes out of it; like a flower growing out of a dunghill; and there's no saying what good to the end of time this lady's going there may produce. Bad enough it was for her, I dare say, at first; but she got reconciled to it; so you mustn't say it would have been better if she had died."
"It is strange, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, "what turns human fate will take. That she, brought up in the midst of luxury, educated with the utmost refinement, sought and admired by all who knew her, should reject two of the most distinguished men in Europe to go to this wild land and marry an Indian savage! Men talk of fate and destiny, and there are certainly strange turns of fortune, so beyond all human calculation and regulation that the doctrine of the fatalist seems true."
"Do you not think, my dear father," said Edith, waking up from a profound reverie, "that this strange discovery might be turned to some great advantage; that Walter, perhaps, might be saved without the necessity of our poor friend here sacrificing his own life to deliver him?"
"That's like a dear, good girl," said Woodchuck; "but I can tell you, it's no use."
"But," urged Edith, "Otaitsa ought to know, for Black Eagle certainly would never slay the nephew of a wife so dear to him."
"It's no use," repeated Woodchuck, almost impatiently. "Don't you know, Miss Edith, that Walter and the Blossom are in love with each other, and that's worth all the blood relationship in the world. Sometimes it does not last as long, but while it does it's twice as strong. Then, as to Black Eagle, he'd kill his own son, if the customs of his people required it. I guess it would only make him tomahawk poor Walter the sooner, just to show that he would not let any human feeling stand in the way of their devilish practice. No! no! Much better keep it quiet. It might do harm, for aught we can tell; it can and will do no good. Let that thing rest, my dear child. It's settled and decreed. I am ready now, and I shall never be so ready again. Let me take one more look at my mountains, and my lakes, and my rivers, and my woods, and I've done with this life. Then God, in His mercy, receive me into another. Amen. Hark! There is someone coming up at a good gallop. That noble young lord, I dare say."
It was as Woodchuck had supposed; and the moment after, Lord H---- entered the room with a beaming look of joy and satisfaction in his countenance. He held a packet of considerable size in his hand, and advanced at once to Mr. Prevost, saying: "My dear sir, I am rejoiced to present to you this letter, not alone because it will give you some satisfaction, but because it removes the stain of ingratitude from the country. His Majesty's present ministers are sensible that you have not received justice; that your long services to the country in various ways--all that you have done, in short, to benefit and ameliorate your race, and to advocate all that is good and noble--have been treated with long neglect, which amounts to an offence; and they now offer, as some atonement, a position which may lead to wealth, and a distinction which, I trust, is but the step to more."
"What is it, George? What is it?" asked Edith, eagerly.
"It is, I am told," replied Lord H----, "in a letter which accompanies the packet; a commission as commissary general of the army here, and an offer of the rank of baronet."
"Thank God!" said Edith; and then, seeing a look of surprise at her earnestness come upon her noble lover's face, a bright smile played round her lips for a moment, and she added: "I say thank God, George--not that I am glad my father should have such things, for I hope and trust he will decline them both; but the very offer will heal an old wound, by showing him that zealous exertions and the exercise of high and noble qualities are not always to be treated with neglect, forgetfulness, and contempt. He will be glad of it, I am sure, whatever his decision may be."