“I certainly should prefer to have Francois remain with us,” replied Lord Temple, “but Oliwibatuc has been a faithful friend; if his daughter is sick, you shall go if he desires it; I believe I can entrust you a few days with your old companion. But how is the journey to be performed, my child? You surely cannot walk from the opposite lake-shore?”
“Oliwibatuc ordered his trusty warriors to bear her as they bore Red-Bird on her return,” replied Francois. “I will see that she is not overwearied, and secure from accident. Her carriage shall be made firm, and I will be her footman—she shall be the Lady Anna again!”
Her father proposed sending one of the old carriage-horses round by Carle, but the young people would not listen to the plan, for it would delay their journey at least a whole day; and so Nurse Judy was ordered to put up some medicine for Red-Bird, with a few articles of necessary clothing for Anna—and in a little time they were crossing the blue water, Anna in a canoe with her father, who crossed the lake with them, and Francois, with the dusky Mohawks, among whom he was a great favorite, for many a deed of kindness and charity had this young captive-minister done for their tribe.
The close of the second day found them approaching the Mohawk village, and the journey had been performed with the greatest ease by Anna—indeed, two pleasanter days she had not passed since the green lawns of England had been exchanged for the western forest. Waldo had been accompanied by eight young warriors, who, according to the fashion of their nation, had constructed a light carriage of green boughs and branches interwoven, which was alternately carried forward by four of their number, without the least inconvenience or fatigue. Borne along thus by her fantastic guides, she felt not the least emotion of fear. By her side was one who watched her with the most unwearied care—who plucked for her every flower in the wild pathway, and brought her water from each cool spring. It was the living form of one whose image had often been with her in dreams, when the spirit’s messengers link again the parted in sweet companionship. They recounted to each other the story of their wanderings, and each felt that time and absence and sorrow had but strengthened the ties of youthful affection; and the dark eye of Francois had not been so lit up with sunshine since the days long gone by, when his simple mountain reed awoke a hundred echoes in the ear of the happy peasant-boy of the Alps!
Anna, too, was happy. O, how happy! as she read in the earnest gaze ever fixed upon her that it was her presence that had imparted unwonted color to the pale cheek, and additional lustre to the dark eye—but mournful memories would come flashing over her mind, and the low, confiding tones of Red-Bird would sound again in her ears—“Weetano has looked on the face of her pale brother, and the image of her brave has faded from her heart”—and for the first time she felt in her spirit a rising of selfishness. Poor Anna—there was a bitter struggle, but brief; and her better nature was triumphant! No wonder, she thought, the forest-maiden should love the fair-browed captive who had come to her father’s wigwam and saved her life! No wonder her ardent, grateful heart should treasure up the rich, low tones of her preserver, and turn with sickening disgust from the stranger Huron! And, then she thought of Weetano, sick and wasting away perhaps with an untold sorrow, and she wished in her heart the love of her red friend had been requited, even though the bright spark she had so long nursed in her own breast had gone out in another’s joy. The daughter of the Indian chief was a fit mate for the gifted or noble of any nation—one such had already shone with peerless lustre at a royal court, and Weetano was as rich in beauty and intellect as the far-famed daughter of Powhatten!
Such were the thoughts that rapidly coursed through Anna’s brain, and when her companion announced to her that they were already in view of the village, and that Weetano was coming forth to meet them, her heart leaped only with gladness—not a trace of its tumultuous workings remained! She soon descried her friend, supported by the old chief, followed by a long train of warriors. She had been borne forth on a couch to the outskirts of the village to await the Pale-Lily, and now, weak and feeble as she was, at her earnest entreaty, had been permitted to walk forward a few steps to meet and welcome her.
As they drew near Oliwibatuc stepped forward and courteously presented a belt of wampum; and Anna, seeing her friend for the moment unsupported, sprang forward, and clasping her in her arms, exclaimed—
“You, darling sick, Red-Bird! I have come to nurse you in your own home.”
“Pale-Lily has come in time,” she calmly replied. “The summer is over, and the song of Red-Bird will cease with the early frost. But you are weary now—come to the feast of Oliwibatuc.”
The couch of Weetano was now brought forward, and she was laid gently thereon, and supported by her father on one side, and on the other by Francois and Anna, followed by those of her tribe who had come forth to welcome the “Lily of the Pale face,” she was borne back to her father’s wigwam. Here a feast had been spread in honor of the expected guest, of every variety which river and forest afforded, and a soft, downy mat was spread for her and Weetano beside the old chief, who seemed pleased to see Anna smiling familiarly on the dusky warriors whom she recognized as Oliwibatuc’s companions of the past summer.