ince overhead, where she herself had so long indulged in the
profligacy of embonpoint and loveliness.

The evening at the school-party was to terminate with some tableaux. The
girl who had suggested that Myrtle would look "stunning" or "gorgeous"
or "jolly," or whatever the expression was, as Pocahontas, was not far
out of the way, and it was so evident to the managing heads that she
would make a fine appearance in that character, that the "Rescue of
Captain John Smith" was specially got up to show her off.

Myrtle had sufficient reason to believe that there was a hint of Indian
blood in her veins. It was one of those family legends which some of
the members are a little proud of, and others are willing to leave
uninvestigated. But with Myrtle it was a fixed belief that she felt
perfectly distinct currents of her ancestral blood at intervals, and she
had sometimes thought there were instincts and vague recollections which
must have come from the old warriors and hunters and their dusky brides.
The Indians who visited the neighborhood recognized something of their
own race in her dark eyes, as the reader may remember they told the
persons who were searching after her. It had almost frightened her
sometimes to find how like a wild creature she felt when alone in the
woods. Her senses had much of that delicacy for which the red people are
noted, and she often thought she could follow the trail of an enemy, if
she wished to track one through the forest, as unerringly as if she were
a Pequot or a Mohegan.

It was a strange feeling that came over Myrtle, as they dressed her for
the part she was to take. Had she never worn that painted robe before?
Was it the first time that these strings of wampum had ever rattled upon
her neck and arms? And could it be that the plume of eagle's feathers
with which they crowned her dark, fast-lengthening locks had never
shadowed her forehead until now? She felt herself carried back into the
dim ages when the wilderness was yet untrodden save by the feet of its
native lords. Think of her wild fancy as we may, she felt as if that
dusky woman of her midnight vision on the river were breathing for one
hour through her lips. If this belief had lasted, it is plain enough
where it would have carried her. But it came into her imagination and
vivifying consciousness with the putting on of her unwonted costume,
and might well leave her when she put it off. It is not for us, who tell
only what happene