One evening—it was in the beginning of June, that season so favorable to young lovers—Mononchee surprised Noalwa sitting under a large tree close upon the shore. The hour and the place seemed as if under the influence of enchantment. The scene was like a fairy land. The broad sound was spread out before her, upon whose surface the clear moon shed her softened rays, which, as from a mirror, were reflected back on every side, giving to all things around an unnatural and unearthly brightness. There seemed a spell upon the air. It stirred not—but hung over the earth and the sea as if to heal every imperfection on the face of nature by its bland and genial influence. Noalwa had not been long there. An unwelcome intruder had invaded the hour which she had set apart for solitude and for communion in spirit and in fancy with her absent but adored lover. The intruder had hardly left her sight ere he was banished from her thoughts, and as it was about a week earlier than the customary time of Mononchee’s coming, she was thinking how long the days would be till she saw him, when she felt a warm kiss upon her cheek. She screamed not—spoke not—for a deep-seated feeling at her heart told her that those were no forbidden lips that could kindle such raptures in her soul. She gazed up at the face and form that was bending over her with all the fondness of a first love, and the young Indian placed himself by her side and gently drew her to his bosom. Then followed a conversation in low, deep, earnest tones, that both came from, and reached the heart. “The Wannamoisett is good—very good, to come so soon and gladden the heart of Noalwa,” murmured the girl as he pressed her to his breast. “Who would not come early and often if Noalwa loved him?” replied he. “Her beauty is brighter than the sun! Her eye is clearer and softer than the moon which leaves a broad trail of light upon the water. She sings more sweetly than the Tichanet,[4] and when she laughs the whole air is full of pleasant sounds.” “Did the Wannamoisett see any of my people as he came hither?” asked she. “None—for I came down by the shore. Ah! yes, I did see one—Annawon, the Namasket.” Noalwa hung her head. “Where did Mononchee meet him?” said she. “I saw him here!” vehemently replied the warrior, “here—standing on this very spot. I saw his hand grasp yours; nay, kneeling at your feet. I saw his eager look whilst you poured into his ear words which should have been kept for Mononchee!”