“No,” she replied; “but Weetano is weary, and her way is in the mist! She can no longer lay the couch for the warriors, or spread the cup for the braves! Let her stay until the feast is over, for she hears the voice of spirits, and is no longer a mate for the young eagle of the Hurons!” There was stern pride in the look of the chief, but he only replied, “The maiden will go to her lodge with Oliwibatuc! The Pale-Lily will come thither to the corn-feast with her father!” No other word was spoken—and the chief, with his party, went his way. Lord Temple and his daughter were both highly pleased with the Mohawk’s invitation to be present at the corn-dance, and witness the meeting of tribes long hostile, at the feast of peace. Oliwibatuc had promised to send a convoy of braves to conduct them thither, but the anticipated pleasure could not remove from Anna’s mind the mournful tone of Red-Bird, and the words still haunted her memory, “Weetano must dwell in the Huron’s lodge to make sure the bonds of peace. She would sooner die.” And she wondered much whether the poor girl would really undergo so great a sacrifice. Could not her pale brother save her? Why had she not counseled Weetano to make a confident of him? From thoughts like these she was one day aroused by her father, who observed, “There is something on the lake that appears like a canoe; but it cannot be the Mohawks, for it wants nearly two weeks of the time specified for our visit. They may be stragglers from some other tribe come to fish in the Mohawks’ waters.” “But is there no danger, father? In our long security I fancied I had become a stranger to fear; but I find it revives upon the least suspicion of evil. I am really less courageous than I imagined!” “There is no cause for alarm, Anna. We have injured none—have defrauded none. Moreover, an Indian will not harm a Quaker—and _our garb at least is true_.”