She was silent and melancholy, and wandered about wrapped in her own bewildered thoughts.
Alice, although a prisoner, was suffered to come and go as it pleased her.
Nelatu’s love for the pale-faced maiden made no progress.
A wan smile was all the reward the Indian youth received for his patient devotion.
He felt that his passion was hopeless, but still he nursed it.
To Sansuta, Alice indeed proved a guardian angel.
At first the Indian girl repelled the tender solicitude expressed by the white maiden, and with an alarmed look seemed to dread even her voice.
In time, however, won by the magic of kindness, she sought the company of the captive, and in her presence seemed happy.
Often they would stroll away from the town, and in some quiet spot pass hours together—Alice in silent thought, Sansuta in such childish employment as stringing beads, or making baskets with the flowers and tendrils of the wild vine.
A favourite haunt with them both was the old fort.