ed upon the features of Adele, upturned and shining in the
blaze of the fire. I traced the outlines of her sister's face: the
high, noble front, the arched eyebrow, and the curving nostril. But the
brightness of complexion was not there; the smile of angelic innocence
was not there. The hair was dark, the skin browned; and there was a
wildness in the expression of the eye, stamped, no doubt, by the
experience of many a savage scene. Still was she beautiful, but it was
beauty of a far less spiritual order than that of my betrothed.

Her bosom rose and fell in short, irregular pulsations. Once or twice,
while I was gazing, she half awoke, and muttered some words in the
Indian tongue. Her sleep was troubled and broken.

During the journey, Seguin had waited upon her with all the tender
solicitude of a father; but she had received his attentions with
indifference, or at most regarded them with a cold thankfulness. It was
difficult to analyse the feelings that actuated her. Most of the time
she remained silent and sullen.

The father endeavoured, once or twice, to resuscitate the memories of
her childhood, but without success; and with sorrow at his heart he had
each time relinquished the attempt.

I thought he was asleep. I was mistaken. On looking more attentively
in his face, I saw that he was regarding her with deep interest, and
listening to the broken phrases that fell from her lips. There was a
picture of sorrow and anxiety in his look that touched me to the heart.

As I watched him, the girl murmured some words, to me unintelligible,
but among them I recognised the name "Dacoma."

I saw that Seguin started as he heard it.

"Poor child!" said he, seeing that I was awake; "she is dreaming, and a
troubled dream it is. I have half a mind to wake her out of it."

"She needs rest," I replied.

"Ay, if that be rest. Listen! again `Dacoma.'"

"It is the name of the captive chief."

"Ay; they were to have been married according to their laws."

"But how did you learn this?"

"From Rube: he heard it while he was a prisoner at the town."

"And did she love him, do you think?"

"No. It appears not. She had been adopted as the daughter of the
medicine chief, and Dacoma claimed her for a wife. On certain
conditions she was to have been given to him; but she feared, not loved
him, as her words now testify. Poor child! a wayward fate has been
hers."

"In two journeys more her sufferings will be ov