In that fond dream of happiness in which all present danger was forgotten, they wandered through the grove, filled with those delightful thoughts and fancies, which are only born in the sweet hopes of requited affection.
The shades of approaching evening were creeping slowly over the valley. The long shadows of the trees fell upon the cleared meadow-land, the perfect picture of repose. Never sank a brighter sun among more lovely clouds—crimsoned in deep curtained folds, with golden edges, giving full promise of a fair to-morrow.
"It is a beautiful evening," said Ralph: "one of those hours when fair hopes are fairer; and the natural world seems to reflect the happiness of our souls. May this not be a promise for the future?"
"May it be so," answered Ruth; "but what events may take place, before that sun rises again!"
"Let us not fear too much," said Ralph. "We must meet the danger bravely, and when it is over, dear Ruth, we shall be none the less happy that it is past."
"Hush!" whispered Ruth suddenly, "look there!" pointing to a grove of small trees but eight or ten rods distant. Ralph looked in the direction indicated by her, and he beheld three Indians who were slowly creeping towards them. The Indians, who had no cover behind which to advance, had necessarily exposed their persons, and in this manner had progressed unobserved for a number of rods. They now saw that they were discovered, and rising with a wild whoop, rushed towards them.
Ralph and Miss Barton were just about equi-distant from the Indians and the cottage. Impulsively, Ralph, who was entirely without means of defence, caught Ruth in his arms and ran towards the building. The Indians pursued, and rapidly gained upon the fugitives. One of the pursuers far outsped the others, and had already reached within twenty feet of Ralph, when the discharge of a rifle was heard, and he leaped with a yell into the air and fell struggling upon the ground. In another moment Ralph and his precious burden were inside the door; but as it closed, the tomahawk of another pursuer quivered in the post beside it. Instantly the grove was filled with enemies.
CHAPTER X.
"That wicked band of villeins fresh begon,
That castle to assaile on every side,
And lay strong siege about it far and wyde."
CHAUCER—FAERIE QUEENE.