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WOMAN’S LOVE. 93
creasing it rather —if to be made’ happy with the ‘slightest trait of
noble feeling, proud in his virtues, and yet quick-sighted and doubly.
sensitive to all his faults, clinging to him in’ spite of*those faults —
if this be love, then I do love with the whole strength of my being.
My heart is full of tranquillity, and, like that white rose which lies
motionless in’ the sunshine burdened withthe wealth of its:own
sweetness, it unfolds itself day by day to a more pure ‘arid subdued
state of enjoyment. ‘This feeling may not be the love which’ men
talk so freely of, but it can not change — never — not even in death,
unless William Danforth should prove utterly unworthy !’
‘© William’ Danforth ! Did I hear you aright? Is Willian. Dan-
forth the name of your affianced husband?” inquired the Indian,
jn a voice of overwhelming surprise, starting up with sudden im-
petuosity and then slowly sinking back to her scat again. ** ‘Tell
me,’? she added, faintly, and yet in a tone that thrilled to the heart,
has this boy — this young gentleman, I mean — come of late from
across the big waters?’
“‘ He came from Europe 2 year since, on the death of his: grand-
‘parents,’ was the reply.
‘A year, a whole year!’? murmured the Indian, clasping her
hands over her eyes with sudden energy. Jer head sunk forward
upon her knees, and her whole frame shivered with a rush of strong
fecling, which was perfectly unaccountable to the almost terrified
girl who gazed upon her, ‘‘¢ Father of Heaven, I thank thee! my
eyes shall behold him once more. O God, make me grateful !”’
These words, uttered so fervently, were mufiled by the locked hands
of the Indian woman, and Sarah could only distinguish that she was
strongly excited by the mention of her lover’s name.
‘* Haye you ever known Mr. Danforth? ’’ she inquired, when the
agitation of the strange woman had a little subsided. The Indian
did not answer, but raising her head, and brushing the tears from
her eyes, she looked in the maiden’s face with an expression of pa-
thetic tenderness that touched her to the heart.
‘* And you are to be his wife? You, my bird of birds.”’
_ She fell upon the young girl’s neck as she spoke, and wept like an
infant; then, as if conscious of betraying too deep emotion, she
lifted her head, and tried to compose herself; while Sarah sat gaz-
ing. on her, agitated, bewildered, and utterly ata loss to account
for this sudden outbreak of fecling, in one habitually so subdued
and calm in her demeanor. After sitting musingly and in silence
several moments, the Indiaxi again lifted her eyes; they were full of
sorrowful meaning, yet there was an eager look about them which
showed a degree of exvitement yet unsubducd.
“* Dead —are they both dead? his grandparents, I mean?’ she
said, earnestly.
‘* Yes, they are both dead; he told me so.”’
** And he— the young man— where is he now?’’
** T left him at my father’s house, not three hours since.’?
“Come, let us go.”