slumber. The Knight, on leaving him, went to the door of the lady's
apartment, and gently rapped.

It was opened by the Indian girl, and he was immediately admitted.

"Celestina," said the Knight, looking first at her and then at her
little attendant, "I have something to say to thee."

"Neebin," said the lady, addressing the child, "may run about in the
woods a little while."

When the girl had departed, the Knight, seating himself at some
distance from the lady, opened the conversation.

"Celestina," he said, "there has been of late a want of that frankness
which characterized our intercourse at our arrival in this country,
and for some time thereafter. Will you not tell me the cause?"

"Sir Christopher," replied the lady, "a suspicious mind is ofttimes
deceived by its imaginations. Wherein, pray, has been a change in my
conduct?"

"Nay. I know not that I can say, in this and in that thou hast not
trusted me, but I feel that it is so."

"Look into thyself, Sir Christopher, and there wilt thou find the
cause. The outer world is but a reflection of the inner."

"I protest, Celestina, I am not altered. Thou art to me as ever, my
trusty and valued associate, bound to me by ties of peculiar
significancy, and as sacred as those which commonly unite man and
woman.

"It is my dearest wish that thou shouldst feel the full force of the
obligation they impose on thee."

"Do I not?" Have I not labored with untiring diligence to promote the
end we both have in view? Wherein have I failed? Point out the error,
and I will correct it."

"I do not presume to be so bold. The masculine energy of Sir
Christopher Gardiner is not to be guided by a woman."

"Alas! Celestina," said the Knight, with some feeling, "were we not
joined in this holy enterprise because it was supposed the fulness of
the one might supply the deficiency of the other? O, turn not away so
coldly."

"My warm devotion, my active zeal, shall never be wanting to the work
whereunto we are pledged; and if any feeling hath arisen inconsistent
with the harmony that should unite us, I am not sensible that it
springs from any fault of mine. But you exaggerate," she added,
smiling, "my momentary sadness into unnecessary importance--a sadness
wherewith thou mayst have no connection."

"Thou canst not deceive me, Celestina. I have profited little by the
lessons of this world, and feeling was given me in vain, were I
incapable of noticing the change in thee. The