inarticulately.

"Yes, yes!" says Verty, with dreamy eyes, and crouching, so to speak,
Indian fashion, until his tangled chestnut curls half cover his
cheeks--"yes, yes!--there again!--why it is magic--there! I see it
all--I remember it! I must have seen it! Redbud!" he said, turning to
the young girl with a frightened air, "am I dreaming?"

Redbud would have spoken. Mr. Rushton, with a sign, bade her be
silent. He looked at the young man with the same strange look, and
said in a low tone:

"Must have seen what?"

"Why, this!" said Verty, half extending his arm, and pointing toward
a far imaginary horizon, on which his dreamy eyes were fixed--"this!
don't you see it? My tribe! my Delawares--there in the woods! They
attack the house, and carry off the child in the garden playing with
the necklace. His nurse is killed--poor thing! her blood is on the
fountain! Now they go into the great woods with the child, and an
Indian woman takes him and will not let them kill him--he is so pretty
with his long curls like the sunshine: you might take him for a girl!
The Indian woman holds before him a bit of looking-glass, stolen from
the house! Look! they will have his life--oh!"

And crouching, with an exclamation of terror, Verty shuddered.

"Give me my rifle!" he cried; "they are coming there! Back!"

And the young man rose erect, with flashing eyes.

"The woman flies in the night," he continues, becoming calm again;
"they pursue her--she escapes with the boy--they come to a deserted
lodge--a lodge! a lodge! Why, it is our lodge in the hills! It's _ma
mere_! and I was that child! Am I mad?"

And Verty raised his head, and looked round him with terror.

His eye fell upon Mr. Rushton, who, breathing heavily, his looks
riveted to his face, his lips trembling, seemed to control some
overwhelming emotion by a powerful effort.

The lawyer rose, and laid his hand upon Verty's shoulder--it trembled.

"You are--dreaming--," he gasped. Suddenly, a brilliant flash darted
from his eye. With a movement, as rapid as thought, he tore the
clothes from the young man's left shoulder, so as to leave it bare to
the armpit.

Exactly on the rounding of the shoulder, which was white, and wholly
free from the copper-tinge of the Indian blood, the company descried a
burn, apparently inflicted in infancy.

The dazzled eyes of the lawyer almost closed--he fell into the old
leather chair, and sobbing, "my son! my son Arthur!" would have
fa