he
whole family. Yes, that was it: my mind was feeble--what people call
half-witted--but my eyes were so good!"

Again Judith groaned; this time no feeling of self, no retrospect of
the past caused the pain. It was the pure, heartfelt sorrow of sisterly
love, heightened by a sense of the meek humility and perfect truth of
the being before her. At that moment, she would gladly have given up
her own life to save that of Hetty. As the last, however, was beyond the
reach of human power, she felt there was nothing left her but sorrow. At
this moment Warley returned to the cabin, drawn by a secret impulse he
could not withstand, though he felt, just then, as if he would gladly
abandon the American continent forever, were it practicable. Instead of
pausing at the door, he now advanced so near the pallet of the sufferer
as to come more plainly within her gaze. Hetty could still distinguish
large objects, and her look soon fastened on him.

"Are you the officer that came with Hurry?" she asked. "If you are, we
ought all to thank you, for, though I am hurt, the rest have saved their
lives. Did Harry March tell you, where to find us, and how much need
there was for your services?"

"The news of the party reached us by means of a friendly runner,"
returned the Captain, glad to relieve his feelings by this appearance of
a friendly communication, "and I was immediately sent out to cut it off.
It was fortunate, certainly, that we met Hurry Harry, as you call him,
for he acted as a guide, and it was not less fortunate that we heard a
firing, which I now understand was merely a shooting at the mark, for
it not only quickened our march, but called us to the right side of the
lake. The Delaware saw us on the shore, with the glass it would seem,
and he and Hist, as I find his squaw is named, did us excellent service.
It was really altogether a fortunate concurrence of circumstances,
Judith."

"Talk not to me of any thing fortunate, sir," returned the girl huskily,
again concealing her face. "To me the world is full of misery. I wish
never to hear of marks, or rifles, or soldiers, or men, again!"

"Do you know my sister?" asked Hetty, ere the rebuked soldier had time
to rally for an answer. "How came you to know that her name is Judith?
You are right, for that is her name; and I am Hetty; Thomas Hutter's
daughters."

"For heaven's sake, dearest sister; for my sake, beloved Hetty,"
interposed Judith, imploringly, "say no more of this!