rward, he had extended his arms to receive her; and when he
felt her light and graceful form pressing upon his own as its last
refuge--when he felt her heart beating against his--when he saw her
head drooping on his shoulder, in the wild recklessness of
despair,--even amid that scene of desolation and grief he could not
help enfolding her in tumultuous ecstasy to his breast. Every horrible
danger was for an instant forgotten in the soothing consciousness that
he at length encircled the form of her, whom in many an hour of
solitude he had thus pictured, although under far different
circumstances, reposing confidingly on him. There was delight mingled
with agony in his sensation of the wild throb of her bosom against his
own; and even while his soul fainted within him, as he reflected on the
fate that awaited her, he felt as if he could himself now die more
happily.

Momentary, however, was the duration of this scene. Furious with anger
at the evident disgust of his victim, Wacousta no sooner saw her sink
into the arms of her lover, than with that agility for which he was
remarkable he was again on his feet, and stood in the next instant at
her side. Uniting to the generous strength of his manhood all that was
wrung from his mingled love and despair, the officer clasped his hands
round the waist of the drooping Clara; and with clenched teeth, and
feet firmly set, seemed resolved to defy every effort of the warrior to
remove her. Not a word was uttered on either side; but in the fierce
smile that curled the lip of the savage, there spoke a language even
more terrible than the words that smile implied. Sir Everard could not
suppress an involuntary shudder; and when at length Wacousta, after a
short but violent struggle, succeeded in again securing and bearing off
his prize, the wretchedness of soul of the former was indescribable.

"You see 'tis vain to struggle against your destiny, Clara de
Haldimar," sneered the warrior. "Ours is but a rude nuptial couch, it
is true; but the wife of an Indian chief must not expect the luxuries
of Europe in the heart of an American wilderness."

"Almighty Heaven! where am I?" exclaimed the wretched girl, again
unclosing her eyes to all the horror of her position; for again she lay
at the side, and within the encircling arm, of her enemy. "Oh, Sir
Everard Valletort, I thought I was with you, and that you had saved me
from this monster. Where is my brother?--Where are Frederick and
Madel