y
meal, but the door is shut. Catharine lifts the wooden latch, and steps
in--the embers are nearly burned out, to a handful of grey ashes--old
Wolfe is not there--all is silent--and Catharine sits down to still the
beating of her heart and await the coming up of her slower companions,
and gladdens her mind with the hope that her brother and Louis will soon
be home--her eye wanders over every old familiar object--all things
seem much as she had left them, only the maize is in the ear and the top
feather waves gracefully with the summer breeze--it promises an abundant
crop; but that harvest is not to be gathered by the hands of the young
planters--it was left to the birds of the air and the beasts of the
field--to those humble reapers who sow not, neither do they gather
into barns, for their Heavenly Father feedeth them. While the two girls
busied themselves in preparing a fine roast of venison old Jacob stalked
away over the hills to search for the boys, and it was not long before
he returned with Hector and Louis.

I must not tell tales, or I might say what tears of joy were mingled
with the rapturous greetings with which Louis embraced his beloved
cousin; or I might tell that the bright flush that warmed the dusky
cheek of the young Indian, and the light that danced in her soft black
eyes, owed its origin to the kiss that was pressed on her red lips by
her white brother. Nor will we say whose hand held hers so long in his
while Catharine related the noble sacrifice made for her sake, and the
perils encountered by the devoted Indiana--whose eyes were moistened
with tears as the horrors of that fearful trial were described--or who
stole out alone over the hills, and sat him down in the hush and silence
of the summer night to think of the acts of heroism displayed by that
untaught Indian girl, and to dream a dream of youthful love; but with
these things, my young readers, we have nothing to do.

"And now, my children," said old Jacob, looking round the little
dwelling, "have you made up your minds to live and die here on the
shores of this lake, or do you desire again to behold your father's
home? Do your young hearts yearn after the hearth of your childhood?"
"After our fathers' home!" was Louis's emphatic reply. "After the home
of our childhood!" was Catharine's earnest answer. Hector's lips echoed
his sister's words, while a furtive troubled glance fell upon the orphan
stranger; but her timid eye was raised to his yo