ade, and while the rare
personal beauty of the wearer added to the effect produced by its hues,
the attire did not fail to adorn that beauty in a way which surpassed
even the hopes of its wearer. Deerslayer himself was astounded, and this
quite as much by the brilliant picture the girl presented, as at the
indifference to consequences with which she had braved the danger of the
step she had taken. Under such circumstances, all waited for the
visitor to explain her object, which to most of the spectators seemed as
inexplicable as her appearance.

"Which of these warriors is the principal chief?" demanded Judith of
Deerslayer, as soon as she found it was expected that she should open
the communications; "my errand is too important to be delivered to any
of inferior rank. First explain to the Hurons what I say; then give an
answer to the question I have put."

Deerslayer quietly complied, his auditors greedily listening to the
interpretation of the first words that fell from so extraordinary a
vision. The demand seemed perfectly in character for one who had every
appearance of an exalted rank, herself. Rivenoak gave an appropriate
reply, by presenting himself before his fair visitor in a way to leave
no doubt that he was entitled to all the consideration he claimed.

"I can believe this, Huron," resumed Judith, enacting her assumed
part with a steadiness and dignity that did credit to her powers of
imitation, for she strove to impart to her manner the condescending
courtesy she had once observed in the wife of a general officer, at
a similar though a more amicable scene: "I can believe you to be the
principal person of this party; I see in your countenance the marks of
thought and reflection. To you, then, I must make my communication."

"Let the Flower of the Woods speak," returned the old chief courteously,
as soon as her address had been translated so that all might understand
it--"If her words are as pleasant as her looks, they will never quit my
ears; I shall hear them long after the winter of Canada has killed all
the flowers, and frozen all the speeches of summer."

This admiration was grateful to one constituted like Judith, and
contributed to aid her self-possession, quite as much as it fed her
vanity. Smiling involuntarily, or in spite of her wish to seem reserved,
she proceeded in her plot.

"Now, Huron," she continued, "listen to my words. Your eyes tell you
that I am no common woman. I will not say I am