From the commencement of Charlie’s illness, he looked upon death as sure, and his young heart went back to his playmate, Ella, with earnest longings, which vented themselves in pleadings that some one would go for her,—would bring her to him and let him look upon her once more ere he died. ’Twas in vain that his mother tried to convince him of the impossibility of such a thing. He would only answer, “I shall not know her in heaven, unless I see her again, for I have almost forgotten how she looked.” * * * * * Winter was gone, and Charlie, no longer able to sit up, lay each day in his bed, talking of heaven and Ella, whom he now scarcely hoped to see again. One afternoon Orianna lingered longer than usual, in low, earnest conversation with the sufferer. Charlie listened eagerly to what she was saying, while his eye sparkled and his fading cheek glowed as with the infusion of new life. As she was about leaving she whispered, softly, “Never fear, though the time be long, I will surely bring her.” Yes, Orianna had resolved to go alone through the wilderness to Virginia, and bring to the dying boy the little Ella. Filled with this idea she hastened home; but list,—whose voice is it that on the threshold of her father’s door makes her quake with fear? Ah, Orianna knows full well that ’tis Wahlaga! He has returned to claim his bride, and instantly visions of the pale, dying Charlie, the far off Ella, and of one, too, whose name she scarcely dared breathe, rose before her, as in mute agony she leaned against the door. But her thoughts soon resolved themselves into one fixed determination—“I will never marry him;” and then with a firm step she entered the cabin. Wahlaga must have guessed her feelings, for he greeted her moodily, and immediately left her with her parents. To her father, she instantly confided her plan of going for Ella, and as she had expected, he sternly forbade it, saying she should stay and marry Wahlaga. Owanno was surprised at the decided manner with which Orianna replied, “Never, father, never. I will die in the deep river first.” At this juncture Wahlaga entered, and the discussion grew warmer and more earnest. Words more angry the chieftain spoke to his daughter than ever before he had done. Suddenly his manner softened, and concerning her going for Ella, he said, “If you marry Wahlaga, you can go; otherwise you cannot, unless you run away.” “And if she does that,” fiercely continued Wahlaga, “I swear by the Great Spirit, I’ll never rest until I’ve shed the blood of every pale face in that nest—sick whining boy and all.” Like one benumbed by some great and sudden calamity, Orianna stood speechless, until her father asked, “Will you go?”