een, had supposed the young
chief of the Accabees to be her father, as he passed in the smoke, and
had thrown herself into his arms. The savage raised his axe to strike,
but, catching her blue eye raised to his, more in grief and wonder than
alarm, the menacing hand fell to his side, and, tossing the girl lightly
to a seat on his shoulder, he strode off into the forest. Mile after mile
he bore her, and if she slept he held her to his breast as a father holds
a babe. When she awoke it was in his lodge on the Ashley, and he was
smiling in her face. The chief became her protector; but those who
marked, with the flight of time, how his fierceness had softened, knew
that she was more to him than a daughter. Years passed, the girl had
grown to womanhood, and her captor declared himself her lover. She seemed
not ill pleased at this, for she consented to be his wife. After the
betrothal the chief joined a hunting party and was absent for a time. On
his return the girl was gone. A trader who had been bartering merchandise
for furs had seen her, had been inspired by passion, and, favored by
suave manners and a white skin, he had won in a day a stronger affection
than the Indian could claim after years of loving watchfulness.

When this discovery was made the chief, without a word, set off on the
trail, and by broken twig, by bended grass and footprints at the
brook-edge, he followed their course until he found them resting beneath
a tree. The girl sprang from her new lover's arms with a cry of fear as
the savage, with knife and tomahawk girt upon him, stepped into view, and
she would have clasped his knees, but he motioned her away; then,
ordering them to continue their march, he went behind them until they had
reached a fertile spot on the Ashley, near the present site of
Charleston, where he halted. "Though guilty, you shall not die," said he
to the woman; then, to his rival, "You shall marry her, and a white
priest shall join your hands. Here is your future home. I give you many
acres of my land, but look that you care for her. As I have been merciful
to you, do good to her. If you treat her ill, I shall not be far away."

The twain were married and went to live on the acres that had been so
generously ceded to them, and for a time all went well; but the true
disposition of the husband, which was sullen and selfish, soon began to
disclose itself; disagreements arose, then quarrels; at last the man
struck his wife, and, seizing