s hurried to a little square apartment, which an iron
grating sufficiently indicated to be the state prison. The vessel lay
at anchor; the intricate soundings on that dangerous coast rendered
her perfectly safe from attack, even if she had been discovered. He
watched the stars rising out, calm and silently, from the deep: "Ere
yon glorious orb is on the zenith," thought he, "I may be--what?" He
shrank from the conclusion. "Surely the wretch will not dare to
execute his audacious threat?" He again caught that red and angry star
gleaming portentously on him. It seemed to be his evil genius; its
malignant eye appeared to follow out his track, to haunt him, and to
beset his path continually with suffering and danger. He stood by the
narrow grating, feverish and apprehensive; again he heard that low
murmuring voice which he too painfully recognised. The mysterious
being of the lake stood before him.

"White man"--she spoke in a strange and uncouth accent;--"the tree
bows to the wing of the tempest--the roots look upward--the wind sighs
past its withered trunk--the song of the warbler is heard no more from
its branches, and the place of its habitation is desolate. Thine
enemies have prevailed. I did it not to compass thine hurt: I knew not
till now thou wert in their power; and I cannot prevent the
sacrifice."

"Restore the child, and I am safe," said Harrington, trembling in his
soul's agony at every point; "or withdraw thy false, thine accursed
accusations."

"Thou knowest not my wrongs and my revenge! Thou seest the arrow, but
not the poison that is upon it. The maiden, whose race numbers a
thousand warriors, returns not to her father's tribe ere she wring out
the heart's life-blood from her destroyer. Death were happiness to the
torments I inflict on him and the woman who hath supplanted me. And
yet they think Oneida loves them--bends like the bulrush when the wind
blows upon her, and rises only when he departs. What! give back the
child? She hath but taken my husband and my bed; as soon might ye tear
the prey from the starved hunter. This night will I remove their child
from them--to depart, when a few moons are gone--it may be to dwell
again with my tribe in the wigwam and the forest."

"But I have not wronged thee!"

"Thou art of their detested race. Yet would I not kill thee."

"Help me to escape."

"Escape!" said this untamed savage, with a laugh which went with a
shudder to his heart. "As soon might the dee