Then she arranged the blanket at the foot of a tall pine, wrapped up the child in it, and returned.
The Ancient spoke. 'Daughter, I know the matter on which you would speak. Make speed with the work, for my body strength has gone. I would wish to see the end, so may I tell all to your father in the joy land. Memory is now a faint shadow of the past. Yet will I speak on those things I may see dimly with the mind. A white man has destroyed your heart, my daughter; he has betrayed you; he has left you to the death misery. You would have punishment brought upon that man. Is it not so, my daughter?'
'It is so, old Father,' came the stern reply.
'Methinks there is still a faint shadow of memory remaining. It tells me that on a certain night I prayed you to listen to wise words. But you cast aside the love advice. So the anger grew upon me, and I said that surely a day would come when you would creep to me with a heart of sorrow, when you would pray me for help in the work of vengeance. Methinks that memory is not all shadow.'
'It is truth. I ask not for pity. I have prepared this suffering for myself. Let the dead past lie dead.'
'I would not call up the black tale of grief to wound you, child. Youth follows the unreasoning heart always. Now it but remains to find the remedy, to strike, to kill.'
All the malevolence in his nature poured forth in the whispered sounds. His wrinkled face grew hideous as he looked at her, the grey-white hair hanging in sparse lines along the neck.
'For that I have come,' she said defiantly.
''Tis well. Am I not living but to aid you? Ah, child, might I only listen to your soul laughter again. Might I hear your song of happiness, I would go then with contentment to the fire, and breathe away my life with joy. Can you not find one smile, child? Is there not hidden in the cold heart a last laugh, my daughter?'
He would have said more, but she frowned and interrupted him. 'That which is left of the heart is not for joy or sorrow. To feeling it is dead. Were I now to laugh, the sound would strike terror to your soul. Can the ice thaw on the winter's day?'