“The maiden sleeps strangely,” muttered the old woman, as she retreated behind the curtain, leaving Anna to resume her watch. Another hour passed by, and she ventured to lift the hand that had fallen over the blankets of her couch—it was soft and warm as a slumbering infant’s. She pressed it in her own, whispering, “Weetano, Weetano!” and a happy smile passed over the features of her companion, and the pressure of her hand was gently returned. “She must have watched longer than I supposed,” thought Anna, “and is exhausted with the effort; it would be wrong to disturb her.” She arose and lifted the curtain, for it was growing late, and she began to feel faint and weary herself; no one was to be seen, and she went forward to the open air. Oliwibatuc was sitting on the ground, at a little distance from the lodge, with a number of his warriors in an idle manner, but when he saw Anna standing in the door of the wigwam, he came forward with a smile on his dark, grim features, and said—“The Lily has slumbered long; was she wearied with her journey through the woods?” “No, chief, very little,” she replied. “’Tis Red-Bird who is fatigued, and she still slumbers; I have watched her for hours, but her sleep was so quiet I would not waken her.” “Why, what aileth the maiden,” he exclaimed; “she was never last to leave her couch, but her song has been sad of late, and her feet have trod lightly in the wood-paths. She hath leaned on the strong for support. I will rouse her myself, while Zohah helps you to break the long fast of the morning.” Anna partook lightly of some refreshments from the hand of Zohah, while the chief went to Red-Bird; but he soon returned with a satisfied air, saying, “She sleeps well; I will let her rest until we go forth with the canoe on the river.” The sun was high in the heaven and the daughter of the chief had not awakened! Hour after hour had Anna Temple lingered by the low bed-side, while her repose seemed only deepening, and an indefinite fear crept over her—a mysterious sense of evil, and she felt sad and lonely. Near the curtain sat the old chief, for he, too, seemed ill at ease, and Anna put aside the skin hanging, and said— “Shall not we rouse her now, chief; she must require nourishment, and this long sleep alarms me!” “Say you so, maiden; the slumber must then be broken, for I, too, have fears! Wake up, Red-Bird!” said he, advancing toward her, “’tis noonday, you must not sleep;” and he shook her gently by the shoulder. She partially opened her eyes, murmuring as before—“Weetano is weary—let her rest.” “Take some food, first, Weetano,” said Anna, imploringly; “don’t go to sleep again for I am very lonely.” The sound of her voice seemed to reanimate her for a moment, and looking round, she said, “Where is my brother?”