In less than a quarter of an hour Prairie–bird rejoined her friend; and though the traces of recent emotion were still to be observed, she had recovered her composure, and her countenance wore an expression of grateful happiness.
“Come, Evy,” said her young hostess, “I must now show you your own room; the cage is not half pretty enough for so sweet a bird, but it opens upon the flower–garden; so you can escape when you will, and your dear good Paul Müller is your next neighbour.”
An exclamation of delight broke from the lips of Prairie–bird as she entered and looked around the tented apartment, and all its little comforts, prepared by Lucy’s taste and affection. Fortunately, the day was beautiful, and the casement–windows being wide open, her eye caught, beyond the flower–garden, a view of the distant mass of forest, with its thousand varied autumnal tints, reposing in the golden light of the declining sun.
“Oh, it is too, too beautiful!” said Prairie–bird, throwing her arms around Lucy’s neck; “I can scarcely believe that this is not all a dream!”
“There have indeed been some fairies here, or some such beings as dwell in dreams, Evy,” said Lucy, whose eyes fell upon the guitar lying on the table; “for I left this room a short time ago, and this instrument was not here then. Who can have brought it?—can you play upon it, Evy?”
“A little,” replied Prairie–bird, colouring.
“And see,” continued Lucy, “here is a scrap of paper beside it, so soiled and dirty that I should have put it in the fire had I seen it before; do you know the hand–writing, Evy?” As Lucy said this, she looked archly up in her friend’s face, now glowing with a rosy blush. “Well, you need not answer, for methinks I know it myself; may I unfold the paper, and read its contents? What, no answer yet? then I must take your silence for consent.” Thus saying, she opened the paper, while Prairie–bird, blushing still more deeply, glanced at it with longing, but half–averted eyes. “Verses, I declare!” exclaimed Lucy. “Why, Evy, what magic art have you employed to transform my Nimrod brother, the wild huntsman of the west, the tamer of horses, and the slayer of deer, into a poet?”
She then proceeded to read, in a voice of deep feeling, the following stanzas, which, although without any pretensions to poetical merit in themselves, found such acceptance with their present warm–hearted and partial judges, that, at the conclusion of their perusal, the two girls fell upon each other’s neck, and remained locked in a silent and affectionate embrace.
On overhearing Prairie–bird’s Evening Hymn, “Hallowed be
Thy Name.”[92]