It was on the evening of the day on which this attack took place, that Frank Stanley was proceeding on his second errand to the rock. As he walked on, he pondered deeply upon the discovery he had that morning made. The recent scene of excitement in the village had banished the thoughts of it throughout the day from his mind. But now his curiosity recurred to the subject with all the strength with which that feeling fixes upon a mystery but partially solved. The stranger who had so singularly appeared during the conflict with the Indians and put them to flight, seemed somehow associated in the boy’s mind with the Lady of the Rock, and he could no more join with the villagers in believing the one an angel of the Lord, than he could now in supposing the other an evil spirit. The more perplexed the more he reflected, Stanley one moment resolved at all hazards to penetrate the singular mystery, to overcome on his present errand the internal and undefinable feelings which would restrain him from accosting the lady, and offering her any further assistance in his power, and discovering the place of her retreat. Yet to press himself on her confidence might be impertinence, and as she had in the morning disappeared without noticing his presence, it was evident that she did not mean voluntarily to make him her confident, and probably she was involved in no difficulties where he might be useful. The next instant, therefore, he resolved to suppress all desire to penetrate the secret, dismiss his disquieting and fruitless conjectures, and without attempting to invade the manner and place of the sudden disappearance of the fair but living vision, await the period when time should throw light upon the subject.