“No,” she replied; “but Weetano is weary, and her way is in the mist! She can no longer lay the couch for the warriors, or spread the cup for the braves! Let her stay until the feast is over, for she hears the voice of spirits, and is no longer a mate for the young eagle of the Hurons!”
There was stern pride in the look of the chief, but he only replied, “The maiden will go to her lodge with Oliwibatuc! The Pale-Lily will come thither to the corn-feast with her father!” No other word was spoken—and the chief, with his party, went his way.
Lord Temple and his daughter were both highly pleased with the Mohawk’s invitation to be present at the corn-dance, and witness the meeting of tribes long hostile, at the feast of peace. Oliwibatuc had promised to send a convoy of braves to conduct them thither, but the anticipated pleasure could not remove from Anna’s mind the mournful tone of Red-Bird, and the words still haunted her memory, “Weetano must dwell in the Huron’s lodge to make sure the bonds of peace. She would sooner die.” And she wondered much whether the poor girl would really undergo so great a sacrifice. Could not her pale brother save her? Why had she not counseled Weetano to make a confident of him?
From thoughts like these she was one day aroused by her father, who observed, “There is something on the lake that appears like a canoe; but it cannot be the Mohawks, for it wants nearly two weeks of the time specified for our visit. They may be stragglers from some other tribe come to fish in the Mohawks’ waters.”
“But is there no danger, father? In our long security I fancied I had become a stranger to fear; but I find it revives upon the least suspicion of evil. I am really less courageous than I imagined!”
“There is no cause for alarm, Anna. We have injured none—have defrauded none. Moreover, an Indian will not harm a Quaker—and our garb at least is true.”
They watched the boat, and half an hour afterward saw it approaching the cottage, when they recognized the hawk’s-feathers—the well-known badge of the Mohawks, and they strove in vain to conjecture the cause of their sudden appearance. It gained the landing-place, and to their surprise, there sprang on shore a gentleman, clad in the garb of their own nation. He paused a moment, as if giving some directions to those he left behind, and then advanced rapidly toward the abode of the emigrant. Lord Temple went forth to meet him, and Anna stole a cautious peep at the stranger whom her father had gone to welcome. There was something mysteriously familiar in that stranger’s look, as her father’s greeting fell on his ears, and a faint smile passed over his features; by that smile he was recognized. She had never seen but one like it—it was the same; and she sprang out, exclaiming, “Do you not know him, father! We knew him well in dear old England, and I know him even here! ’Tis Francois Waldo—my old playmate, and teacher, too;” and the next moment they were clasped in each other’s arms—and Anna was shedding the happiest tears that had ever dimmed her eyes, whilst her father looked on in bewildered amazement, scarcely able to determine whether the scene was real, or one of the strange phantasms of slumber.
After recovering a little from his astonishment, however, he said, “Whence come you, my son, and how in the world did you discover our hiding-place? Strange! that the first white face which has greeted us since our flight, should be that of a dear old friend! But, tell me—how came you here among the Quakers, as rigid a Puritan as you were educated under our good Lord Protector?” And Lord Temple greeted the new comer with a hearty shake of the hand, accompanied with a significant glance at his own altered attire!
“I came hither, my lord, with your friends, the Mohawks, among whom I have been for nearly a year captive. I have had suspicions that their new pale face friends might possibly be yourselves, since Weetano showed me the volume which she said the White Lily had given her—for on the cover was the name of Anna Temple. Still, with all my inquiries, I could ascertain nothing with certainty, for the old chief said you were ‘Blue Jackets!’ meaning Quakers; and that ‘on the head of his new brother, John Brown, had fallen much snow.’ I remembered you with raven locks, and thought not of the changes a few years will sometimes occasion. But tell me a little of your wanderings, for time urges me back. Let me first, however, state the immediate cause of this visit. Weetano is ill, and she has entreated her father to send for Anna to his lodge, that she may hear her talk again before she goes to be the companion of spirits. The old chief is sorely afflicted, for she is his only child, and he was soon to have sealed with her hand an alliance with his warlike neighbors, the Hurons. The young brave to whom she is betrothed will soon be there; but, if I can read the Indian girl aright, she shrinks from the coming of Owanaw, though in my hearing she has never spoken of him. However, she has nothing to fear, for she will soon change her dwelling for a long resting-place. Consumption is upon her. Will you return with me, Anna? Can you undergo the privations of an Indian wigwam for a few days?”
“O, gladly! gladly! May I not go, father, to nurse poor Weetano a little, or will you feel too lonely in my absence?”