“I don't understand it quite; still, I know it must be all true; I've read it in the Bible. How dark it's becoming! Can it be night so soon? I can hardly see you at all—where is Hist?”
“I here, poor girl—Why you no see me?”
“I do see you; but I couldn't tell whether 'twas you, or Judith. I believe I shan't see you much longer, Hist.”
“Sorry for that, poor Hetty. Never mind—pale-face got a heaven for girl as well as for warrior.”
“Where's the Serpent? Let me speak to him; give me his hand; so; I feel it. Delaware, you will love and cherish this young Indian woman—I know how fond she is of you; you must be fond of her. Don't treat her as some of your people treat their wives; be a real husband to her. Now, bring Deerslayer near me; give me his hand.”
This request was complied with, and the hunter stood by the side of the pallet, submitting to the wishes of the girl with the docility of a child.
“I feel, Deerslayer,” she resumed, “though I couldn't tell why—but I feel that you and I are not going to part for ever. 'Tis a strange feeling! I never had it before; I wonder what it comes from!”
“'Tis God encouraging you in extremity, Hetty; as such it ought to be harbored and respected. Yes, we shall meet ag'in, though it may be a long time first, and in a far distant land.”
“Do you mean to be buried in the lake, too? If so, that may account for the feeling.”
“'Tis little likely, gal; 'tis little likely; but there's a region for Christian souls, where there's no lakes, nor woods, they say; though why there should be none of the last, is more than I can account for; seeing that pleasantness and peace is the object in view. My grave will be found in the forest, most likely, but I hope my spirit will not be far from your'n.”