The packet was wrapped in a piece of birch-bark, and tied with a bit of fibrous root. This covering removed, I found a white cambric handkerchief, inside of which was something hard. It turned out to be the miniature of a handsome man, somewhere between forty and fifty. Beside it was a manuscript in English. On one corner of the kerchief was marked in faded ink the name “Eve.”
Holding out the portrait I said,—“You see. I knew he was a gentleman. This must be her father.”
“No doubt,” replied Lumley—“but what says this letter?”
Unfolding the manuscript I spread it carefully on my knee and began to read.
Chapter Nineteen.
Opening of the Mysterious Packet.
The manuscript was without date or preface, and its contents interested as well as surprised us not a little. It began at once as follows:—
“Whoever receives this packet and letter from my daughter receives a sacred trust which he dare not shake off, and which I solemnly charge him in the sight of God to take up and fulfil. At the moment while I write I am well and strong, and not old. It is my firm intention, if God spares me, to pursue the course which is herein detailed, but I know too well the risk and dangers of the wilderness to feel assured that I shall live to act out my part. I therefore write down here, as briefly as I can, my story and my wishes, and shall give the letter with my miniature to my darling Waboose—whose Christian name is Eve, though she knows it not—with directions not to open it, or let it out of her hands, until she meets with a white man whom she can trust, for well assured am I that the man whom my innocent and wise-hearted Eve can trust—be he old or young—will be a man who cannot and will not refuse the responsibility laid on him. Why I prefer to leave this packet with my daughter, instead of my dear wife, is a matter with which strangers have nothing to do.