The glare of light, the sound of music, mingled with the tones of the human voice in merry laughter and light conversation reached her ear, and startled the wretched girl with wonder. The Indian, with the utmost tranquillity and with slow and important steps, led the way toward this portion of the large and heavy mass of gloomy masonry, which, with its tall chimneys, loomed up before them. An immense doorway opened upon a broad staircase that seemed formed to make the head dizzy with its many windings. Up this the savage proceeded with his prisoner, whom he held by the arm, half-supporting her weight as she moved passively and like a piece of mechanism in his fingers. On the first landing they passed a drawing-room, splendidly illuminated and filled with revelers, from whence the noise that had reached the court-yard proceeded. Continuing up the various turnings until they had accomplished another flight, the savage paused, and opened a door communicating with a single chamber handsomely furnished. Its solitary occupant was a man past the prime of life. He seemed immersed in business, examining documents and reading letters which were strewn on a table before him. He arose as our party entered, held out his hand to the Indian, and asked, “Any prisoners?” “We have taken a daughter of the pale-faces, a blossom of the clearings,” was the reply of the savage as he pointed to his captive. “But the air of the woods is not pleasant to her: she pines after the wigwam of her fathers.” Grace Bartlett had no sooner entered the apartment than her whole frame trembled violently, and the color leaving her cheeks, she sank down on the floor, resting her elbows on her knees and pressing her hands to her forehead. The appearance and attitude, indicative at once of extreme fatigue and the abandonment of despair, did not fail to move the compassionate feelings of General Lincoln, who raised her gently and seated her in a large arm-chair. “Alas!” said he to the warrior, when he had performed this act, “why did you bring so frail a creature? It were a pity to have made her a sacrifice to my courtly intrigues and ambitious plans: she is only fit to be the darling of her parents.” “My parents!” exclaimed the unhappy girl at this mention of them, “would to God that I knew their fate!” “You shall be treated kindly,” said the general to her with much considerateness of manner, and in a gentle tone. “Every thing shall be done to make your residence here pleasant. You are fatigued,” he continued, “sweet maiden,” as he turned to a bell that was suspended near. A servant in livery appeared, and after a few brief words from his master again vanished. He returned presently, followed by a neat maid-servant.