But Narretta made her no answer, and going up to Mrs. Gorton, said rapidly, “Madeline did not die! Narretta loved her, loved all children, but the Great Spirit gave her no pappooses of her own, and when she went away she stole her. She took her, and under the tree she left part of her clothing and the smashed carcass of a young fawn, to make the white woman think the wolves had eaten her up.” Here she stopped, and Mrs. Gorton, grasping the wasted hand of Orianna, turned to Narretta and said, “Tell me, tell me truly, if this be Madeline, my long-lost daughter!” “It is!” answered Narretta. “You know she was never so fair as the other one,” pointing to Marian, “and with a wash of roots which I made, she grew still blacker.” She might have added, also, that constant exposure to the weather had rendered still darker Orianna’s complexion, which was naturally a rich brunette. But whatever else she might have said was prevented by Mrs. Gorton, who fell in a death-like swoon at her feet. The shock was too great, to know that in the gentle Orianna, whose noble conduct had won the love of so many hearts, she beheld her long-wept-for daughter Madeline. Upon Marian and Orianna the knowledge that they were sisters operated differently, according to their different temperaments. With a cry of joy Marian threw her arms around Orianna’s neck, who, when made to comprehend the reality, burst into tears, saying, “I thought I should be white sometime—I almost knew I should.” By this time Mrs. Gorton had recovered from her fainting fit, and clasping her newly found daughter to her bosom, thanked the God who so unexpectedly had restored her. The next day the news reached Lexington, bringing thence Robert, who, in the intensity of his joy, seemed hardly sane. At a glance he foresaw the future. Orianna, for so he would always call her, should go to school for five years, and at the end of that time, images of a noble, beautiful bride rose before him, as he hurriedly traversed the road to Grassy Spring. Their interview we shall not describe, for no one witnessed it, though Marian impatiently remarked that “it took Bob much longer to tell what he had to say than it did George when he first came to Lexington.” But then Marian had forgotten, as who will not forget, or pretend to. Old Narretta was the only one who seemed not to share the general joy. She looked upon Orianna as lost to her for ever, and heard the plan of sending her to school with unfeigned sorrow. Still, she made no objections to whatever Mr. and Mrs. Gorton chose to do with their child: and when Orianna was well enough, she gave her consent that she should be removed to her father’s house, where every possible indulgence was lavished upon her by her parents, in order to attach her to them and their mode of life.