ou?"

The answer was also given interrogatively, "Has the White Eagle lost his
eyes, by gazing too long on the pale-faced fair ones of Swampville?
There is light in the sky, and the face of Su-wa-nee is turned to it.
Let him look on it: it is not lovely like that of the _half-blood_, but
the White Eagle will never see that face again."

This declaration had a visible effect on the young hunter: the shade of
sadness deepened upon his features: and I could hear a sigh, with
difficulty suppressed--while, at the same time, he appeared desirous of
terminating the interview.

"It's late, girl," rejoined he, after a pause: "what for are ye here?"

"Su-wa-nee is here for a purpose. For hours she has been waiting to see
the White Eagle. The soft hands of the pale-faced maidens have held him
long."

"Waitin' to see me! What do you want wi' me?"

"Let the White Eagle send the stranger aside. Su-wa-nee must speak to
him alone."

"Thar's no need o' that: it's a friend that's wi' me."

"Would the White Eagle have his secrets known? There are some he may
not wish even a friend to hear. Su-wa-nee can tell him one that will
crimson his cheeks like the flowers of the red maple."

"I have no saycrets, girl--none as I'm afraid o' bein' heerd by
anybody."

"What of the half-blood?"

"I don't care to hear o' her."

"The White Eagle speaks falsely! He does care to hear. He longs to
know what has become of his lost Marian. Su-wa-nee can tell him."

The last words produced an instantaneous change in the bearing of the
young hunter. Instead of the repelling attitude, he had hitherto
observed towards the Indian girl, I saw him bend eagerly forward--as if
desirous of hearing what she had to say. Seeing that she had drawn his
attention, the Indian again pointed to me, and inquired: "Is the
pale-faced stranger to know the love-secrets of the White Eagle?"

I saw that my companion no longer desired me to be a listener. Without
waiting for his reply, I drew my horse's head in the opposite direction,
and was riding away. In the turning, I came face to face with him; and
by the moonlight shining full over his countenance, I fancied I could
detect some traces of mistrust still lingering upon it. My fancy was
not at fault: for, on brushing close past him, he leaned over towards
me, and, in an earnest manner, muttered: "Please, stranger! don't go
fur--thar's danger in this girl. She's been arter me before." I nodded
assent