Every thing being now prepared, and the party ready to set out upon their journey, the mother took up one end of the litter, while Earth held the other, and with Rolfe carrying a torch, and leading the way, which the mother pointed out, they moved forward. Repeatedly, however, had Earth to check the ardour of his companion, and cause him to walk more slowly. The excitement, under which he had been labouring for several hours, had imparted strength to his weakened frame, and the hope of soon seeing her, who, for so long a time, had been the theme of so many waking dreams, urged him on;—“Yes,” he communed with himself, “but a few hours more, and I shall embrace her, who has been the guiding star of my earlier days; her, whose recovery is to me the goal of all my earthly hopes.” And then, when he reflected upon the surprise he would create, the pleasure it would give him to restore her to her friends, he grew wild with joy, and could scarcely restrain himself. And then the fate of her family would pass before him, the loss of her friends, and her desolate condition, and seeing her wretched, dejected, and heart-broken, he was plunged in the deepest sorrow. Then these thoughts would fade away, and there would rush by the first moment of recognition, with its wild delight, its joy, its heavenly bliss;—and then would follow on the thought, that she must at once be restored to her friends in Virginia, that his lot was cast in a different land, and then, that she might have forgotten him, and that some one more fortunate might possess her affections. Then again he grew sad. Thus alternating between different passions, he gave full play to the suggestions of his fancy. While these thoughts occupied the mind of Rolfe, Earth and the mother had been slowly wending their way along with the litter, having stopped several times from fatigue. Rolfe attended them closely, but with them he seemed to have no communion of feeling; his thoughts were of other things, and he heeded not the conversation which was passing between Earth and the Indian mother. “Rolfe, heard you that story?” Rolfe was silent. “Rolfe!” He started from his reverie:—“What will you have, Earth?” “Why, I have been talking to you for several minutes, and you hav'nt heard a word.” “Indeed, Earth, my thoughts have been pretty constantly in the wigwam of the mother.” “Your thoughts had better rest elsewhere, for from what I have gleaned from the mother, I now have a doubt, if the maiden lives, and if she does, she may not be the same we seek.” This was perfectly startling to Rolfe, for the suggestion had not before entered his brain. “How! what! what is the matter,” cried he;—and he made Earth again detail every circumstance of the conversation he had held with the mother.