“Nor mother?”
“None that ever claimed me.”
“Have you any recollection of a mother?”
Oneotah shook her head, pensively.
“No,” she answered; “memory recalls no mother’s face gently bending over her infant treasure; no father watching with fond delight the playful gambols of his child, tracing in the little face before him the charms of her who was his young heart’s choice.”
“Nor had you other kindred?”
She shook her head again, with the same plaintive expression.
“I can recall no sister’s tenderness, no brother’s boisterous love,” she rejoined. “Amid the dim phantoms of the past, that recollection brightens into reality, one scene appears the strongest—clearest to my mind.”
Percy Vere was much interested in Oneotah’s recollections of the past.
“What scene was that?” he asked.