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THE WARRIOR’S GRAVE. ot
~ CHAPTER XIII.
By the forest-grave she mournful stood,
While her soul went forth-in prayer;
_ Her life was one long solitude,
Which she offer’d, meekly, there.
Sanam pursued the foot-path, which she had so often trod through
the forest, with a heart that beat quicker at the sight of each famil-
Jar bush or forest-tree.
“ Poor woman, she must have been very lonely,’? she murmured,
more than once, when the golden. blossoms of a spice-bush, or the
tendrils of a vine trailing over the path, told how seldom it had
been traveled of late, and her heart imperceptibly became saddened
by the thoughts of her friend. - :
“To her disappointment, she found the wigwam empty, but a path
was beaten along the edge of the woods, leading toward the Pond,
which she-had never observed before. She turned into it with a sort
of indefinite expectation of meeting her friend; and after winding
through the depth of the forest for nearly a mile, the notes of ‘a wild,
plaintive song rose and fell—a sad, sweet melody — on the still air.
A few steps onward brought the young girl to a small open space
surrounded by young saplings and flowering shrubs; tall. grass
swept from a little mound which swelled up from the center, to the
margin of the inclosure, and 4 magnificent hemlock shadowed the
> . oS
whole space with its drooping boughs. 2
- A sensation of awe ‘fell upon the heart of the young girl, for, as
she’ gazed, the mound took the form of a grave.. A large rose-tree,
heavy with blossoms, drooped over the head, and the sheen of rip-
pling waters broke through a clump of sweet-brier, which hedged
it in from the lake. - : ae :
Sarah remembered that the Indian chicf’s grave was on the very
brink of the water, and that she had given a young rose-tree to Ma-
laeska years ago, which must have shot up into the solitary bush
standing before her, lavishing fragrance from its pure white flowers
over the place of the dead. » : Co oe
‘his would have been enough to convince her that she stood by
the warrior’s grave, had the place been solitary, but at the root of
the hemlock, with her arms folded on her bosom and her calm face
uplifted toward heaven, sat Malaeska. Her Jips were slightly part-
ed, and the song which Sarah had listened to afar off broke from
them — a sad pleasant strain, that blended in harmony with the rip-
‘pling waters and the gentle sway of the hemlock branches overhead.
Sarah remained motionless till the last note of the song died away
on the lake, then she stepped forward into the inclosure. The In