Charlie, too, was delighted, and when the next day he as usual met Orianna in the woods, he led her to a mossy bank, and then communicated to her the glad tidings. When he repeated to her the name of his future sister-in-law, he was greatly surprised at seeing Orianna start quickly to her feet, while a wild light flashed from her large black eyes. Soon reseating herself, she said, calmly, “What is it, Charlie? What is the name of the white lady?” “Marian—Marian Gorton,” repeated Charlie. “Do you not think it a pretty name?” Orianna did not answer, but sat with her small, delicate hands pressed tightly over her forehead. For a moment Charlie looked at her in wonder; then taking both her hands in his, he said, gently, “Don’t feel so, Orianna. I shall love you just as well, even if I do have a sister Marian.” Orianna’s only answer was, “Say her name again, Charlie.” He did so, and then Orianna repeated, “Marian—Marian—what is it? Oh, what is it? Marian;—it sounds to Orianna like music heard years and years ago.” “Perhaps it was a dream,” suggested Charlie. “It must have been,” answered Orianna, “but a pleasant dream, fair as the young moon or the summer flowers. But tell me more, Charlie.” “I will do so,” said he, “but I am afraid you will forget your lesson.” He had been in the habit of taking to the woods some one of his reading books, and in this way he had unconsciously awakened in Orianna a desire for learning. For some time past a part of each day had been spent in teaching her the alphabet. It was an interesting sight, that dark, handsome girl, and the fair, pale boy—he in the capacity of a patient teacher, and she the ambitious scholar. On the afternoon of the day of which we are speaking, they were, as usual, employed in their daily occupation. The excitement of the occasion heightened the rich glow on Orianna’s cheek, while the wreath of white wild flowers, which Charlie had woven and placed among her shining black hair, gave her the appearance of some dark queen of the forest. The lesson was nearly completed, and Charlie was overjoyed to find that his pupil knew every letter, both great and small, when they were startled by the sound of a footstep, and in a moment Robert Hunting, who had accompanied George Wilder home from Lexington, stood before them. Swiftly as a deer Orianna bounded away, while Charlie, in evident confusion, attempted to secrete his book, and Robert burst into a loud laugh, saying, “Well done, Charlie! So you’ve turned schoolmaster, and chosen a novel pupil, upon my word. But who is she? If she be a native, she is handsomer far than half the white girls!” “She is Orianna,” said Charlie, “the daughter of a chieftain, and I love her too.” “Nobility, hey?” said Robert laughing. “Better yet. But what made her run so? Did she think I was the Evil One? Can’t you call her back?” “She won’t come,” answered Charlie; “she don’t like you, and I can’t make her.”