It was a beautiful tableaux for a painter to delineate—beautiful—but at the same time sadly impressive.
A young Indian chief, who had been a silent witness to it, must have thought so, by the sigh that escaped him, as he turned his face away.
Wacora was the chief who thus sighed.
Chapter Thirty Four.
Strange Changes.
Wacora’s love for Sansuta had long since changed into pity.
A new feeling now possessed his heart.
A new love had arisen from the ashes of the past: