plucked by his rude hand, and
soiled by his touch and embrace! Will he succeed in his satanic designs?

CHAPTER VII.

THE LOVERS

Ellen Walton, ere she left the home of her childhood for the scenes of
border life, was the affianced bride of Walter Hamilton, a young man of
most promising talent, irreproachable character, and fine looking withal;
and, in a word, was worthy of the high favor he found in the eyes and the
heart of his beloved. As gathered from the narrations of the last chapter,
he was now on a visit to the wilderness home of his betrothed, to arrange
for the nuptials, which were to be solemnized on Christmas Eve, the winter
season being deemed most safe from the predatory excursions of the Indians.
All these particulars their bitter adversary was familiar with; and he so
exulted over the sad termination of their plans, he could scarcely command
his feelings, or act with becoming sanity.

Without further ado, we will introduce the lovers at their last interview
in the forest, previous to Hamilton's return home. The same spot finds them
seated again, as though fate led them surely on into the jaws of
destruction, and opened the way of triumph for the plotting villain.

"And this is the last time we shall enjoy together the sweet solitude of
this sylvan temple of love?" said Hamilton, after they had been conversing
for some time on the hopes before them.

"Oh, I pray it may not be the _last_ time! What fatal words!" replied the
fair Ellen, as a momentary pallor overspread her beautiful face.

"You know, love I only meant for this visit. Of course, I hope to enjoy the
same felicity many times when we shall mutually sustain to each other those
dearest of all relations; after that our hopes shall have been fully
consummated."

"I know you did not intend to say the last time for life; but the word
_last_ struck with a chill to my heart, and called up old dreads, which,
unbidden, sent a thrill of fear through my spirit. I could not avoid the
thought that this _might be_, indeed, our last meeting. Would to heaven the
unwelcome thought were banished from my mind, never again to return."

"Well, love, just banish it. You are certainly in no personal danger; and
there is hardly a possibility, let alone a probability, protected as I
shall be, of my encountering serious danger on my way home."

"I know all you say; I can see no cause of fear; no reason to apprehend
danger; yet I _do_ feel alarmed; but