“There is no preventive,” said he, “short of a miracle.”
Rebecca sobbed into the ear of her benefactor, the condition of his release.
“They will never release me,” said he; “they may make you an apostate, but they will also make me a martyr.”
“My father, they have sworn the oath that has never yet been violated, when given from Indian to Indian, that they will release you on those conditions.”
“Has that oath never failed?”
“Never—never, my father.”
“Let me not fall into the hands of man,” said the prisoner; “in this hour, God, be my guide and counsel.”
“What is the answer, my father? Remember, your life—your precious life, may be saved, and that of William,” she whispered softly in his ears. “Do not hesitate.”
“I do not hesitate for myself. How, my child, is thy faith?”
“Firm—fixed, my father.”