Such were the thoughts that rapidly coursed through Anna’s brain, and when her companion announced to her that they were already in view of the village, and that Weetano was coming forth to meet them, her heart leaped only with gladness—not a trace of its tumultuous workings remained! She soon descried her friend, supported by the old chief, followed by a long train of warriors. She had been borne forth on a couch to the outskirts of the village to await the Pale-Lily, and now, weak and feeble as she was, at her earnest entreaty, had been permitted to walk forward a few steps to meet and welcome her. As they drew near Oliwibatuc stepped forward and courteously presented a belt of wampum; and Anna, seeing her friend for the moment unsupported, sprang forward, and clasping her in her arms, exclaimed— “You, darling sick, Red-Bird! I have come to nurse you in your own home.” “Pale-Lily has come in time,” she calmly replied. “The summer is over, and the song of Red-Bird will cease with the early frost. But you are weary now—come to the feast of Oliwibatuc.” The couch of Weetano was now brought forward, and she was laid gently thereon, and supported by her father on one side, and on the other by Francois and Anna, followed by those of her tribe who had come forth to welcome the “Lily of the Pale face,” she was borne back to her father’s wigwam. Here a feast had been spread in honor of the expected guest, of every variety which river and forest afforded, and a soft, downy mat was spread for her and Weetano beside the old chief, who seemed pleased to see Anna smiling familiarly on the dusky warriors whom she recognized as Oliwibatuc’s companions of the past summer. The meal was taken in silence, and at its close Red-Bird took Anna by the hand and led her to a soft couch of furs, tastefully spread over with embroidered blankets, side by side with her own. “The way was long for the weak Lily,” she said in pleasant accents, “she must rest; Weetano will watch her first slumber—it will be secure in the lodge of the Mohawk chief. She will not fear,” added she, in an inquiring manner; and placing her hand at the same time in hers, Anna was struck with its mortal coldness. “Why, you are cold, Weetano,” said she, pressing the hand affectionately, “it is _you_ who most need rest, and I came to watch beside you—not _you_ with _me_.” “Only to-night, white maiden; Red-Bird has spread your couch with her own hands to-day, and when she has seen you sleep she will lie down on her couch beside you happy, though her heart is frozen, and its streams are fast wasting. Slumber will revive the weary Lily, and Weetano will sing her a song of the Great Spirit. She has learned it of her white brother.”