“‘Where? where?’ asked Mary, lifting her hands quickly. ‘Where is my mother?’
“‘Be patient, and I will tell thee. Go to Seekonk on the next day thy people meet to worship the Great Spirit—I have promised to send thee—she will be there; a tall woman, and slender and graceful as a reed upon the hill-side. Her brow is fair as the coming of light, fair as thy own, my child: and her dark hair falleth over it as the shadows of evening upon snow. There she is,’ continued Rachel, taking a small miniature from her own neck, and giving it to Mary, ‘some some cunning[[12]] man of thy people hath put her face here; but not all. The kind look, and the tears, and the sorrow are not here!’
“Mary took the picture and looked upon it, and kissed it, and thanked God that again she was not an orphan—that again she was to find a mother.
“‘Go,’ continued Rachel, ‘remember all I have told thee; observe the scar over her left eye. She will know thee by thy little playthings—by thy sweet voice, and by thy father’s soft blue eye.’ As she spoke she gave some little toys to Mary, and then, motioning her away, she added, in a thick and tremulous voice, ‘now go, and let Namoina—die!’
“‘Die!’ repeated Mary, ‘Die! what can my mother mean?’
“‘Come hither, child, at the rising of the sun, and thou wilt know what I mean. Thrice hath the sun risen and set since food hath passed the lips of Namoina; and when she eateth again, it will be among her fathers in the hunting-grounds afar off.’
“‘I will bring thee food and drink; I will go now,’ said Mary, bursting into tears.
“‘Go, but come not again! go, and return not! Namoina will find it hard to die while the eye of her nursling is upon her.’
“Mary sprang back again to the side of Rachel. ‘O, my mother!’ she said, ‘thy hands are cold, and thy brow—what shall I do for thee? What shall I do?’
“‘If thou wilt not go, sit down at my feet and listen to my death-song; but touch me not—speak not, or the soul of Namoina will be a coward and refuse to die.’