absent but a short time, and, on his return,
stated that the only information she had was derived from the soldier.
"She bade me say," he added, "that her prayers have been earnest on
thy behalf, and that she welcomes thee again to thy friends."

The young man, (who, meanwhile, had been listening to a communication
from Philip,) as was meet, returned thanks, and desired his dutiful
service to be presented to the lady.

Upon parting, Sir Christopher instructed him respecting his message.

"Present to the Governor," he said, in conclusion, "my congratulations
on the successful issue of our enterprise. Now may the husbandman,
fearless, sow his seed, and his wife and little ones look with
confidence for his return. Midnight treachery and savage cruelty shall
not be known, but each one expect with a joyful heart the rising of
the sun. But I counsel no attempt at nearer approach. It is better
that the English and the Taranteens should avoid one another. Only
therein is safety. Say also that I purpose, after needful rest, to
wait upon him tomorrow, to enjoy once more the charm of his gracious
society, and to possess him more fully of our deeds."

With these parting words, he waived adieu, and, turning, sought the
apartment of Lady Geraldine.

The door was opened, as before, by the little Indian girl, Neebin,
who, as soon as she had admitted the Knight, ran to the side of the
lady, and, falling on her knees, began with curious eyes to examine a
book which the lady held in her lap.

The Knight looked affectionately at the child, and, approaching her,
placed his hand upon the raven hair that fell low upon the shoulders,
and, caressing the bent head, said gently:

"Good little Neebin! Has she learned all about the pretty pictures?"

The girl turned up to him her bright eyes, and, in better English than
that commonly used by the Indians, and even with a pronunciation that
approached correctness, replied:

"No--Neebin knows very little now, but the lady says the book will
talk to her by and by."

It was one of those illuminated missals on which, for want of other
occupation, and sometimes with a feeling of superstitious piety, the
monks spent incredible pains, and often a capricious and wonderful
ingenuity, which the half-reclaimed little savage was looking at. As
if unable to satisfy her curiosity fast enough, she turned the leaves
over with childish impatience, uttering now and then a cry of delight
as she beheld the f