could have looked so long
on that face, so beautifully fair, without conceiving a passion for its
possessor. It was equally difficult to believe, that if this passion
existed, he would have thus surrendered her to the arms of another. An
act so disinterested would have proved him noble indeed--the Rolla of
the North! If the passion really did exist, I knew there could be no
reciprocity. As Marian galloped up, and gazed in the eyes of the
handsome hunter--now entirely her own--her ardent glance told that
Wingrove was the proud possessor of that magnificent maiden.

In volunteering to be one of our party Marian was submitting herself to
a fearful risk. That of the rest of us was trifling in comparison. In
reality we risked nothing, further than the failure of our plans; and a
certain punishment if taken in the act of abduction. But even for this
the Saints would scarcely demand our lives--unless in hot blood we
should be slain upon the instant. Her position was entirely different.
The Mormon apostle, whether false husband or real, could and would claim
her. There was no law in that land--at all events, no power--to hinder
_him_ from acting as he should please; and it was easy to foresee what
would be his apostolic pleasure. The very presence of Wingrove would
stimulate him to a revengeful course; and should her Indian disguise be
detected, Marian might look forward to a fate already deemed by her
worse than death. She was sensible of all this; but it did not turn her
from her determination. Her tender affection for Lilian--her earnest
desire to save her sister from the peril too plainly impending, rendered
her reckless about her _own_; and the bold girl had formed the
resolution to dare everything--trusting to chance and her own strong
will for the successful accomplishment of our purpose. I no longer
attempted to dissuade her against going with us. How could I? Without
her aid my own efforts might prove idle and fruitless. Lilian might not
listen to _me_? Perhaps that secret influence, on which I had so
confidently calculated, might exist only in a diminished degree?
Perhaps it might be gone for ever? Strange to say, though I had drawn
some sweet inferences from those neglected flowers, every time the
_bouquet_ came back to my memory, it produced a palpable feeling of
pain! He who so cunningly sued, might hope for some measure of success?
And she, so sweetly solicited--more dangerous than if boldly bese