ess of his heart, to the moles and the bats;
he has bowed and adored at the foot of the Cross;--but it was not so in
the days whereof I have spoken. _[FN: Appendix K.]_

CHAPTER XII.

"Must this sweet new-blown rose find such, a winter
Before her spring be past?"
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

The little bark touched the stony point of Long Island. The Indian
lifted his weeping prisoner from the canoe, and motioned to her to move
forward along the narrow path that led to the camp, about twenty yards
higher up the bank, where there was a little grassy spot enclosed, with
shrubby trees--the squaws tarried at the lake-shore to bring up the
paddles and secure the canoe.

It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of an enemy, but doubly so,
when that enemy is a stranger to the language in which we would plead
for mercy--whose God is not our God, nor his laws those by which we
ourselves are governed. Thus felt the poor captive as she stood alone,
mute with terror among the half-naked dusky forms with which she now
found herself surrounded. She cast a hurried glance round that strange
assembly, if by chance her eye might rest upon some dear familiar face,
but she saw not the kind but grave face of Hector, nor met the bright
sparkling eye of her cousin Louis, nor the soft, subdued, pensive
features of the Indian girl, her adopted sister--she stood alone among
those wild gloomy-looking men; some turned away their eyes as if they
would not meet her woe-stricken countenance, lest they should be moved
to pity her sad condition; no wonder that, overcome by the sense of her
utter friendliness, she hid her face with her fettered hands and wept
in despair. But the Indian's sympathy is not moved by tears and sighs;
calmness, courage, defiance of danger and contempt of death, are what he
venerates and admires even in an enemy.

The Indians beheld her grief unmoved. At length the old man, who seemed
to be a chief among the rest, motioned to one of the women who leant
against the side of the wigwam, to come forward and lead away the
stranger; Catharine, whose senses were beginning to be more collected,
heard the old man give orders that she was to be fed and cared for.
Gladly did she escape from the presence of those pitiless men, from
whose gaze she shrunk with maidenly modesty. And now when alone with
the women she hesitated not to make use of that natural language which
requires not the aid of speech to make itself understo