e fluttering lashes rose. Joe saw two velvety eyes
dark with timid fear, yet veiling in their lustrous depths an
unuttered hope and love.

"Whispering Winds--save--paleface," she said, in a voice low and
tremulous. "Fear--father. Fear--tell--Wingenund--she--Christian."

* * *

Indian summer, that enchanted time, unfolded its golden, dreamy haze
over the Delaware village. The forests blazed with autumn fire, the
meadows boomed in rich luxuriance. All day low down in the valleys
hung a purple smoke which changed, as the cool evening shades crept
out of the woodland, into a cloud of white mist. All day the asters
along the brooks lifted golden-brown faces to the sun as if to catch
the warning warmth of his smile. All day the plains and forests lay
in melancholy repose. The sad swish of the west wind over the tall
grass told that he was slowly dying away before his enemy, the north
wind. The sound of dropping nuts was heard under the motionless
trees.

For Joe the days were days of enchantment. His wild heart had found
its mate. A willing captive he was now. All his fancy for other
women, all his memories faded into love for his Indian bride.

Whispering Winds charmed the eye, mind, and heart. Every day her
beauty seemed renewed. She was as apt to learn as she was quick to
turn her black-crowned head, but her supreme beauty was her loving,
innocent soul. Untainted as the clearest spring, it mirrored the
purity and simplicity of her life. Indian she might be, one of a
race whose morals and manners were alien to the man she loved, yet
she would have added honor to the proudest name.

When Whispering Winds raised her dark eyes they showed radiant as a
lone star; when she spoke low her voice made music.

"Beloved," she whispered one day to him, "teach the Indian maiden
more love for you, and truth, and God. Whispering Winds yearns to go
to the Christians, but she fears her stern father. Wingenund would
burn the Village of Peace. The Indian tribes tremble before the
thunder of his wrath. Be patient, my chief. Time changes the leaves,
so it will the anger of the warriors. Whispering Winds will set you
free, and be free herself to go far with you toward the rising sun,
where dwell your people. She will love, and be constant, as the
northern star. Her love will be an eternal spring where blossoms
bloom ever anew, and fresh, and sweet. She will love your people,
and raise Christian children, and