“I had forgotten,” said Oluski, “that you are strangers to each other. Sansuta, your cousin Wacora stands before you.”
Sansuta—for she it was—smiled upon the young Indian.
He did not approach the spot where father and daughter stood.
His impassioned eloquence had vanished.
He could scarce find words for the simplest salutation.
Oluski, perceiving his bashfulness, hastened to his relief.
“Sansuta has been upon a visit, and has only now returned. It is many years since you have seen her, Wacora. You did not expect her to have grown so tall?”
Wacora finished the sentence.
“Nor so beautiful!” he said.
Sansuta cast down her eyes.