The impression produced upon her was
exactly what it had been then--indescribable--inexplicable
to herself.
"What is the matter, my love?" inquired Ronayne tenderly,
and pressing her arm to his heart--"what fixes your
attention below?" then seeing the Indian himself. "Ah!
Waunangee, my friend!" he exclaimed, "where have you been
all this time? Come round to the gate and shake hands
with my wife."
"No, no, no, do not call him up, Ronayne--you cannot
think how much the presence of that Indian troubles me."
"Nay, dearest Maria, you are not yourself. Why continue
this strong dislike against the poor fellow? I thought
you had quite forgiven him."
Was it accident--was it modesty, or was it a consciousness
that his presence was not desired by at least one of the
parties, that prevented the young Indian from obeying
the summons of the officer. Whatever the cause, he assumed
a serious mein, and playing one of those melancholy airs
which so often, at that time, might be heard proceeding
from the rude flute of their race, walked slowly away.
"I fear you have offended him, Maria.
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