tone of great tenderness, "I had once a daughter. An only one, as the apple of my eye. But she faded. She went down to the grave, ere she bloomed in womanhood."
"There was silence; and afterwards I expressed with warmth, my gratitude to my deliverer. The solemn hour of midnight had long passed; yet the forest seemed to assume a still darker hue, and the decaying fires, scarcely cast a feeble ray upon the scattered forms of the slumbering warriours.
"Daughter!" said the aged man, "rest in peace. I watch over thee. I have prayed the Great Spirit that I may lead thee in safety to my home, and put thy hand into the hand of my wife. Knowest thou why she will love thee? Why the tears will cover her face, when she looketh upon thine? Because thou wilt remind her heart of the blossom whose growth she nursed, whose blasting she bemoaned. Be not angry at what I say. She had a dark brow, and her garb was like the children of red men. Yet, as she went down into the dust, there was upon her lips a smile, and in her eye a tender melancholy, like thine." He ceased, oppressed with emotion. Pressing his hands upon his forehead, he laid it on the earth. Presently raising his head, I saw that his eyes was dazzling, but tearless.
"Wilt thou accept my adoption?" he inquired. "Wilt thou bow thyself, for a time, to be called the daughter of old Arrowhamet? I have said that it need be but for a time. My home is near the shores of the great waters.
