time to make himself pretty
certain that nothing serious could have been overheard, and was ready to
receive with rather florid politeness all the acknowledgments and
civilities offered.

Mary alone seemed to remember that the ponies had really been stopped,
not by Bailey, but by the man who now stood silent near to her. She in
turn rose, and spoke with some diffidence. "I should like to offer my
thanks too. I think I was too frightened to say anything this morning,
but indeed I thank you."

The stranger bowed. "You make too much of a very small matter," he
answered; "the ponies would most likely have become quiet of themselves,
only it did not seem certain they would have turned the corner quite
safely."

"I am sure they would not; they were quite unmanageable, and we had not
met anybody for a long time. That road is so quiet."

Mary went on talking, fascinated by the charm of the voice that replied
to her, until other people did come in, and the spell was broken. But
when Helen moved back into the larger rooms, and she was obliged to
follow, she went dreamingly until they found themselves beside their
hostess. Upon her Helen seized, and assailed her with questions. Who
were these two men? But of all the amazing announcements Lady Deermount
had ever had to make respecting her guests, the most amazing perhaps was
in her reply.

"He is an Indian Chief, your hero, a true, genuine Uncas, only educated;
and the other is an American."

An Indian Chief! These were the days when Cooper's novels were the
latest fashion, and many a girl's head was turned by visions of splendid
heroes--stately, generous, brave, and beautiful--capable of everything
that was grandest, noblest, and most fascinating. Here was one in
_propria persona_; and one, too, who, in addition to all the heroic
virtues, could speak excellent French and English, and dress like an
English gentleman.

What wonder if that night mischief was done never to be undone, however
long, however bitterly repented?

It would be too tedious to continue the story in detail. Lady Deermount
had constituted herself the patroness of many adventurers, but never of
one cleverer than Bailey. She absolutely believed and duly repeated the
story he told her, which was briefly this:--His companion, whose
many-syllabled Indian name he taught her, but who, in England, found his
baptismal one of Christian more convenient, was the chief of a tribe
once powerful, now fallen into de