“What a beautiful thought!” exclaimed Prairie–bird, eagerly; “tell me the book wherein I may find it written. Such a lovely flower as that cannot surely grow alone; there must be others of similar beauty near it.”
“There are, indeed; fresh, fragrant, and abundant, as on a western prairie in June; ‘Paradise Lost’ is the garden wherein they grow; many of the descriptions contained in it are among the most beautiful in our language; I hope ere long to read them to and with you, dearest,” he added in a whisper, intended for her ear alone: “there are some lines descriptive of Eve as she first appeared to Adam, which always seemed to me exaggerated, until you taught my eye to see and my heart to feel their truth.”
With a deep blush Prairie–bird cast her dark eyes upon the ground, while Reginald continued aloud, again addressing himself to Lucy.
“Our own adventures after we crossed the Platte river are scarcely worth relating; for although we had a few alarms from wandering parties of Pawnees, Omahaws, and Dahcotahs, our band was too strong and too well armed to fear anything from their open attack; and the ever–watchful care and sagacity of Wingenund left them no chance of surprising us.
“The warlike spirit and experience of his noble brother seemed to have descended, like Elijah’s mantle, upon the youth; and feeling the responsibility that attached to him as leader of the party, he allowed himself little rest either by day or by night, setting the watches himself, and visiting them repeatedly at intervals to ascertain that they were on the alert. He always came to our camp–fire in the evening, and I observed that he daily became more interested in the conversation of our worthy friend the missionary, and more anxious to understand the principles and truths of Christianity; in so doing he was not only following the bent of his own amiable and gentle disposition, but he felt a secret pleasure in the remembrance that he was fulfilling the last wishes of his dying brother. I dare say Paul Müller would now tell you that he would be thankful indeed if the average of professing Christians understood and practised the precepts of their creed as faithfully as Wingenund.”
“That would I in truth, my son,” replied the missionary; “nevertheless I cannot claim the honour of having been the instrument of the conversion of the Delaware youth or his brother; it was effected, under the blessing of Heaven, by the patient, zealous, and affectionate exertion of Prairie–bird.”
“Nay, my dear father, you do yourself grievous wrong in so speaking,” said Prairie–bird, reproachfully; “and even were it as you say, to whom do I owe every thing that I know? whom have I to thank that I was not left in the dark and hapless condition of the females by whom I have so long been surrounded?”
The tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke, and she pressed affectionately to her lips the hand which her adopted father extended to her.
“Yes, my sister speaks only the truth,” said Ethelston, addressing the missionary in a voice of deep emotion; “we all feel how far beyond the power of words we are indebted to you for all that you have done for her, and we only trust that some opportunity may be afforded us of showing a deep, sincere, and permanent gratitude that we are unable to express.”
Colonel Brandon, and every one of the family circle rose, as by a common impulse, and one by one confirmed by a silent pressure of the hand, the sentiment expressed by Ethelston. The venerable man, uncovering his head, and allowing the breeze to waive to and fro his silver locks, looked for a minute upon the kindred group before him, and thus addressed them:—