“I heard, my child, as I walked through the village, that you had been tending the wounds of a boy much hurt by a horse; was the hurt beyond your skill?”
“Not exactly,” she replied, hesitating. “It was needful that blood should flow from his arm; and, as you were not there, I was forced to ask the assistance of Netis—that is, of Reginald.”
“Well,” said the missionary, smiling, “I hope he proved a skilful leech?”
“He would not allow me to look on,” she replied: “but, though it was his first trial, he drew the blood, and stanched it, as skilfully as you could have done it yourself; and then he walked with me to the tent.”
“And you conversed much by the way?” inquired the missionary.
“Oh yes; and he made me tell him a great deal about you, and I was ashamed of talking so much; but then he told me that it gave him pleasure to hear me talk. How can it please him to hear me talk, dear father? I know nothing, and he has seen and read so much.”
Paul Müller averted his face for a moment to conceal from her the smile which he could scarcely repress, as he replied,
“My child, he has perhaps seen and read much; but the life and habits of the Indians are new to him, and of these you can tell him many things that he does not know.”
“Tell me, dear father,” she said, after a short silence, “are there others like him in my country? I mean, not exactly like him, but more like him than the traders whom I have seen; they are so rough, and they drink fire–water, and they never think of God or his mercies: but he is so noble, his countenance made me afraid at first, but now, when he speaks to me, his voice is as gentle as the fawn calling to its dam!”
Paul Müller saw very well how it fared with the heart of Prairie–bird. He remembered that Reginald was the son of a wealthy proprietor, who would probably have insuperable objections to his son’s marrying a foundling of the wilderness, and he hesitated whether he should not give her some warning caution on a subject which he foresaw would so soon affect her peace of mind. On the other hand, he was convinced that Reginald was a man of generous and decided character, and, while he resolved carefully to observe the intercourse between them, he would not mar the unsuspecting purity of her nature, nor throw any obstacle in the way of an attachment which he believed might lead to the happiness of both parties. In coming to this conclusion, it must not be forgotten that he was a Moravian missionary, long resident in the Far–west, and therefore not likely to trouble his head with the nice distinctions of European aristocracy. In the country which was now his home, he might be justified in deeming a match equal, if the man were honest and brave, and the bride young and virtuous, without reference to their birth, connections, or worldly possessions. Under the impression of considerations like these, the missionary replied to the maiden’s inquiry: