Wyandotte exhibited still greater changes. He had seen his threescore
and ten years; and was fast falling into the "sere and yellow leaf."
His hair was getting grey, and his frame, though still active and
sinewy, would have yielded under the extraordinary marches he had once
made. In dress, there was nothing to remark; his ordinary Indian attire
being in as good condition as was usual for the man. Willoughby
thought, however, that his eye was less wild than when he knew him
before; and every symptom of intemperance had vanished, not only from
his countenance, but his person.

From the moment Willoughby appeared, a marked change came over the
countenance of Nick. His dark eye, which still retained much of its
brightness, turned in the direction of the neighbouring chapel, and he
seemed relieved when a rustling in the bushes announced a footstep.
There had not been another word spoken when the lilacs were shoved
aside, and Mr. Woods, a vigorous little man, in a green old age,
entered the area. Willoughby had not seen the chaplain since they
parted at Albany, and the greetings were as warm as they were
unexpected.

"I have lived a sort of hermit's life, my dear Bob, since the death of
your blessed parents," said the divine, clearing his eyes of tears;
"now and then cheered by a precious letter from yourself and Maud--I
call you both by the names I gave you both in baptism--and it was, 'I,
_Maud_, take thee, _Robert_,' when you stood before the
altar in that little edifice--you will pardon me if I am too familiar
with a general officer and his lady"

"Familiar!" exclaimed both in a breath;--and Maud's soft, white hand
was extended towards the chaplain, with reproachful earnestness;--"We,
who were made Christians by you, and who have so much reason to
remember and love you always!"

"Well, well; I see you are Robert and Maud, still"--dashing streaming
tears from his eyes now. "Yes, I did bring you both into God's visible
church on earth, and you were baptised by one who received his
ordination from the Archbishop of Canterbury himself,"--Maud smiled a
little archly--"and who has never forgotten his ordination vows, as he
humbly trusts. But you are not the only Christians I have made--I now
rank Nicholas among the number"--

"Nick!" interrupted Sir Robert--"Wyandotte!" added his wife, with a
more delicate tact.

"I call him Nicholas, now, since he was christened by that name--there
is no longer a Wyandotte, or a Sau