ity it was not
her practice to show, and, though the gleamings of anguish were still
visible on her beautiful face, when she spoke it was firmly and without
tremor. At that instant Hist and the Delaware withdrew, moving towards
Hurry, in the other end of the boat.

"Sister," said Judith kindly, "I have much to say to you; we will get
into this canoe, and paddle off to a distance from the Ark--The secrets
of two orphans ought not to be heard by every ear."

"Certainly, Judith, by the ears of their parents? Let Hurry lift the
grapnel and move away with the Ark, and leave us here, near the graves
of father and mother, to say what we may have to say."

"Father!" repeated Judith slowly, the blood for the first time since her
parting with March mounting to her cheeks--"He was no father of ours,
Hetty! That we had from his own mouth, and in his dying moments."

"Are you glad, Judith, to find you had no father! He took care of us,
and fed us, and clothed us, and loved us; a father could have done no
more. I don't understand why he wasn't a father."

"Never mind, dear child, but let us do as you have said. It may be well
to remain here, and let the Ark move a little away. Do you prepare the
canoe, and I will tell Hurry and the Indians our wishes."

This was soon and simply done, the Ark moving with measured strokes of
the sweeps a hundred yards from the spot, leaving the girls floating,
seemingly in air, above the place of the dead; so buoyant was the
light vessel that held them, and so limpid the element by which it was
sustained.

"The death of Thomas Hutter," Judith commenced, after a short pause had
prepared her sister to receive her communications, "has altered all our
prospects, Hetty. If he was not our father, we are sisters, and must
feel alike and live together."

"How do I know, Judith, that you wouldn't be as glad to find I am not
your sister, as you are in finding that Thomas Hutter, as you call him,
was not your father. I am only half witted, and few people like to
have half witted relations; and then I'm not handsome--at least, not as
handsome as you--and you may wish a handsomer sister."

"No, no Hetty. You and you only are my sister--my heart, and my love for
you tell me that--and mother was my mother--of that too am I glad, and
proud; for she was a mother to be proud of--but father was not father!"

"Hush, Judith! His spirit may be near; it would grieve it to hear his
children talking so, and that, to