"It shall be done, Narragansett!" he said, speaking between his clenched teeth; "it shall be done!" Then turning on his heel, he stalked along the giddy path with a rapidity of stride that kept the other in fearful suspense for his safety, until his active form had disappeared.
The recluse arose, and sought the occupant of his humble abode.
"Come forth," he said, opening the narrow door for the passage of the Chief. "The youth hath departed with thy burthen, and thou art now alone with an ancient associate."
Conanchet reappeared at the summons, but it was with an eye less glowing and a brow less stern than when he entered the little cabin. As he moved slowly to the stone he had before occupied, his step was arrested for a moment, and a look of melancholy regret seemed to be cast at the spot where he had laid the bundle. Conquering his feelings, however, in the habitual self-command of his people, he resumed his seat, with the air of one that was grave by nature, while he appeared to exert no effort in order to preserve the admirable equanimity of his features. A long and thoughtful silence succeeded, and then the solitary spoke.
"We have made a friend of the Narragansett Chief," he said, "and this league with Philip is broken?"
"Yengeese," returned the other, "I am full of the blood of Sachems."
"Why should the Indian and the white do each other this violence? The earth is large, and there is place for men of all colors and of all nations on its surface."
"My father hath found but little," said the other, bestowing such a cautious glance at the narrow limits of his host, as at once betrayed the sarcastic purport of his words, while it equally bespoke the courtesy of his mind.
"A light-minded and vain prince is seated on the throne of a once-godly nation, Chief, and darkness has again come over a land which of late shone with a clear and shining light! The just are made to flee from the habitations of their infancy, and the temples of the elect are abandoned to the abominations of idolatry. Oh England! England! when will thy cup of bitterness be full?--when shall this judgment pass from thee? My spirit groaneth over thy fall--yea, my inmost soul is saddened with the spectacle of thy misery!"
Conanchet was too delicate to regard the glazed eye and flushed forehead of the speaker, but he listened in amazement and in ignorance. Such expressions had often met his ear before, and though his tender years had probably prevented their producing much effect, now, that he again heard them in his manhood, they conveyed no intelligible meaning to his mind. Suddenly laying a finger on the knee of his companion, he said--