'Neath the trees he saw her walking,
'Neath the trees he saw her weeping,
And his heart was filled with sorrow,
Sorrow for the lovely maiden,
So he picked a rose, a red rose,
From the fragrant garden flowers,
Shyly gave it to the maiden,
With a pleasant smile of friendship.
Molly took the rose, the red rose,
Thanked the Indian for his kindness,
Coyly smelled the rose, the red rose,
Saying, "May we meet to-morrow?"
Daily then they met together,
Daily talked of many matters,
'Neath the trees beside the garden.
All the while a watchful sentry,
Peter Barber's watchful sentry,
Out beside the leafy hedgerow,
At the gateway to the mansion,
Stood with loaded musket guarding
'Gainst the entrance of the "Beggar."
Molly, baffled by her father,
But with spirit still unbroken,
Met the Indian's kindly glances,
Listened to his ardent promise,
"Much of wampum, many blankets",
Saw a chance to keep her promise—
"Cross me now and I will marry
Him who first in love may ask me."
Saw the anger of her father
Slowly melting into sorrow,
As the years went rolling onward
And herself a humble toiler
In some distant forest cabin.
Each too proud to reconsider,
Followed then the loss of friendship,
Each to bear a heavy burden.
15. HIED THE MAIDEN TO THE REDMAN.
Then Molly said, "I'll go with you,
Leaving here my angry father,
And live with you the long years through,
Happy in some wood-land wigwam."
Hied the maiden to the Redman,
Turned her back on life luxurious,
Left her father's lofty mansion,
By the mighty Central River,
All its ways polite and social,
All the acres broad and fertile,
Of which she was the only heiress;
All her mother's kind caresses,
Smiles and love and kindly counsels,
All her many ardent suitors,
Hoping with this dusky Indian
She might live as spouse and partner.