Near the close of the fifth day they came suddenly into a beautiful valley, sheltered on all sides by bold hills, and encircling in its bosom a clear, quiet lake. Not a vestige of human kind was discernible in this spot, so charming that it seemed fresh from the hand of its Creator.
“Is not this such a spot as we have been seeking, father?” inquired Anna, with a pleading look.
“Yes, daughter, if there is peace and safety on earth it must be in this Eden of the forest. Here we will fix our dwelling-place, in the midst of this romantic scenery. To-morrow, Carle, we must set to work to prepare a habitation; you are something of a carpenter I think?”
“O, yes, massa; me learn de trade in good old England, but not wid such big log as dis.”
We have now traced the flight of the illustrious but unfortunate Judge Temple from the Quaker city—his first resting-place in the Western world—to the forest home introduced to our reader at the commencement of the chapter. More than a year and a half had passed since the wanderers had sought refuge in the friendly wild, whose shelter had afforded a safe retreat from friend or foe; for no white face had smiled or frowned on them in their new habitation. They had lived alone! The forest and lake supplied them with food, and they had a little garden which furnished them with vegetables, having brought with them a variety of seed and utensils for the culture of the soil. They had a few books, and Anna and her father read together, to while away the long hours of winter; but in summer they dragged not heavily; for there was life and beauty around them, and in the warm breast of Anna Temple was a perpetual fountain of sunlight. To her father she seemed as happy as the birds that warbled all day in gladness—and she was truly happy—happy in herself, in her only parent, and in every thing bright and beautiful around her; still her thoughts in their loneliness often reverted to her first home, and the blessed hours of her childhood.
But not for lost splendor did she dwell thus fondly the memory of the past, it was for the lost companions of those rainbow-tinted years, whose fate she might never know. Scattered far and wide over the earth she knew them to be, but who among them had fallen victims, she vainly strove to conjecture.
And one among those whose images were linked with her dreams, was the dark-haired Vaudois student, who had taught her the Alpine shepherd songs which she still loved to play at nightfall, as she watched the stars peering out, with their angel-eyes, and she would sometimes weep as she thought that pale-browed youth might even then be wearing the golden crown he had so early sought to win.
It surely was a solitary life for an ardent young creature like Anna Temple to dwell thus apart from the world, shut out from every association of her earlier and happier years; still she was never for a moment discontented with her lot. A nest of young birds she fed and tamed, and every wild-flower of rare beauty was transplanted in her garden-plot—so her loving heart had food for its impassioned yearnings. One human creature, too, had found a place in her affections even here in the wilderness. The summer after their arrival, a party of Indians from a neighboring tribe had sought, as was their custom, the shores of this sunny lake to fish. Among them came the chief, with his only daughter, nearly the same age as Anna.
Weetano was a most superb creature; graceful as a fawn, with eyes clear and dark as a gazelle’s, and she burst upon them like a glorious vision—so unlike any thing they had seen, or even fancied. Her father, the old chief, seemed not at first well pleased to find his summer retreat invaded by a pale face, but Lord Temple’s courteous address soon won his favor, and he came with confidence to the cottage, where he was entertained with so many presents and novelties, that he went and brought his daughter to see the “white squaw,” as he called Anna, and hear her sing.
Anna took her guitar and sang with it to the infinite delight of her visitors, who asked her if the creature were alive, for they had learned a little English from the fur-traders. She then displayed to the Indian maiden her treasures, and presented her with a beautiful coral necklace, that had pleased her fancy better than any thing else. The chief looked highly gratified to see Anna clasp the trinket round his daughter’s neck, and he inquired with some pride—“Will the Pale-Lily sail in the canoe with Red-Bird?” for thus he called his daughter.