“I did.”
“Is there no device or means by which we can contrive your escape? we may trust the Comanche girl.”
“I do not see any,” replied the boy calmly; “the eyes of the Osage chief are open, the hands of his warriors are many and ready. It does not matter; War–Eagle and Netis will be here soon; then all will go well.”
“All well!” said Prairie–bird, shuddering. “Know you not, that to–morrow I must consent to be the wife of the Osage, or be the cause, and the witness of my brother’s horrible death?”
Wingenund looked at her with unfeigned surprise.
“The daughter of Tamenund—the Prairie–bird sent by the Great Spirit, from an unknown land, to dwell among the lodges of the Lenapé—she who has learnt all the wise words of the Black Father—she to become the wife of that wandering wolf! Can my sister’s heart beat towards him?”
“Heaven knows how I loathe and dread him! worse than the most poisonous snake in the prairie.”
“I thought so,” he replied. “And how ought a wife to feel towards the man whom she marries?”
“To feel that he is the joy, the food, the treasure of her heart; the object of her secret thoughts by day, of her dreams by night; that when she prays to Heaven, his name is on her lips; that she loves him as—as—“
“As Prairie–bird loves Netis,” said Wingenund, smiling.