“Has Aunt Mary thought it requisite to new–paper that too, or did it occur to Miss Lucy without her aunt’s suggestion?”
Lucy punished him with a slight pinch on the arm; and then leading him down the stairs to the tent apartment, said to him, “Now, Sir, I will show you what I have prepared for your Indian lady; this is Prairie–bird’s room.”
The tell–tale blood rushed into Reginald’s bronzed and sunburnt cheek, as he stood within the room destined to contain his heart’s treasure; thoughts, far too sweet, and deep, and swift for words, mingled the past and the future in a delicious dream, as bending over his sister he kissed her fair forehead, and pressed her in silence to his heart.
With the intuitive quickness of sympathy, Lucy read in that expressive silence the secret of her brother’s breast; and looking up to him, half–reproachfully, she said, “Reginald, could not you have trusted your Lucy so far, as to tell her that Prairie–bird would have a dearer title to her affections than that of being Wingenund’s sister, or the child of the missionary’s adoption?”
“Dear Lucy,” replied her brother, with an impressive earnestness, that re–assured while it awed her, “there has been so much of the mysterious and merciful working of Providence in the history of Prairie–bird, that I am sure you will forgive me when I ask you to wait a few hours before all is explained to you. Meanwhile, receive her, for these few hours, as a guest; if at the end of them you do not love her as a sister, my prophetic spirit errs widely of its mark.”
Lucy saw well how deeply her brother’s feelings were moved, and she prayed inwardly that her expected guest might fulfil his prophecy. It must be owned, however, that there lurked a doubt in her heart whether it could be possible that a girl, reared in an Indian camp, could be to her a sister, or could be worthy of that brother, whom her fond partiality clothed with attributes beyond those which belong to ordinary mortals. Her affection for Reginald would not permit her to let him perceive these doubts; but fearful of betraying them by her manner, she left him in the room destined for Prairie–bird, while she hastened to aid the indefatigable Aunt Mary in some of the other preparations that were going forward; the colonel having given orders that the whole party, of whatever rank or station, should be hospitably entertained.
Reginald was no sooner left alone, than casting his eyes around the room, a sudden idea occurred to him of preparing an agreeable surprise for his betrothed on her entrance to her new domicile. He remembered having seen below, in the drawing–room, a Spanish guitar, which he lost no time in securing; and having taken it from the case, he ascertained that it was a very fine instrument, and that the strings were in very tolerable order. He now laid it upon the sofa–table in her room, placing beside it a slip of paper which he took from his pocket, and which seemed from its soiled and crumpled condition, to have suffered not a little from the various wettings to which, during the past months of travel, it had been exposed. Still he lingered in the room, noting with satisfaction the various trifling luxuries and comforts which his sister had prepared for Prairie–bird, when suddenly he caught the sound of a bugle–note, in which he instantly recognised the signal to be given by Baptiste of the party’s approach.
How did his heart beat within him as he flew to welcome them! yet were its throbbing pulsations like the quiet of sleep compared to those of the maiden, who now drew near the home of her infancy. Ethelston had leaped to the ground, and half supported her in the saddle with one hand, while with the other he checked Nekimi, whose impatient neigh betrayed his remembrance of the corn–bin, and the well–known stall.