sappointment. He did conceal them, however; and so effectually,
that both the Cree and his wife were deceived, and though that the
narrative excited in him no deeper interest than former intimacy would
naturally create. But this was far from being the case. Oriana and the
chieftainship were lost to him at present, it is true; but revenge
might still be his--that prize that Satan holds out to his slaves to
tempt them on to further guilt and ruin. To win that prize--and,
possibly, even more than that--was worth some further effort: and
deceit was no great effort to Coubitant.

So he smiled in return to Henrich's greeting, and tried to draw Oriana
into friendly conversation, by noticing her lovely boy; who, however,
received his advances with a very bad grace. He also addressed
Tisquantum with all that respectful deference that is expected by an
aged Indian--more especially a Sachem--from the younger members of his
race; and, at length, he succeeded in banishing from the minds of
almost all his former acquaintances those doubts and suspicions that
his conduct had once aroused; and he was again admitted to the same
terms of intimacy with the Chief and his family that he had enjoyed in
years long gone by.

Still, there was one who could not put confidence in Coubitant's
friendly manner, or believe that the feelings of enmity he once so
evidently entertained towards Henrich were altogether banished from his
mind. This was Jyanough, whose devoted attachment to the white
stranger had first led him to mistrust his rival; and who still
resolved to watch his movements with jealous care, and, if possible, to
guard his friend from any evil that might be designed against him.

For some time, he could detect nothing in Coubitant's manner or actions
that could, in any way, confirm his suspicions, which he did not
communicate to any one but Mailah; for he felt it would be ungenerous
to fill the minds of others with the doubts that he could not banish
from his own.

The summer advanced, and became one of extreme heat. The winding stream
that flowed through the meadow--on the skirts of which the Nausett
encampment was formed--gradually decreased, from the failure of the
springs that supplied it, until, at length, its shallow waters were
reduced to a rippling brook--so narrow, that young Lincoya could leap
over it, and Rodolph could carry his little charge across without any
risk of wetting his feet. The long grass and beautiful lilie