The Sunflower and Wawandah looked this time fully, tenderly into each other’s eyes—a new affinity had been created—a new tie mutually acknowledged. It was the first time they had been made aware that she was the young girl thus saved. They both colored deeply, and with a consciousness that that information was fraught with good or evil, for the future, to themselves. Both awaited with interest and impatience what was to follow. “Wawandah,” pursued the chief, “I feel that I have wronged you by neglect. But I will make amends for it. Once more you shall be a man—a hunter—a warrior. You shall abandon your tent and live in mine. It is large enough for us all. The Sunflower will be glad to receive him who saved her life in the most daring manner. Her smiles will make you forget your hopeless love, and when her hands have prepared the morning meal, we shall go forth to the chase, for I, too, feel that my pretty Sunflower too often dazzles my path with its brightness, and keeps me from the tracks of the deer and buffalo.” “Oh, the friend of my father is too good,” replied Wawandah, with a manner changed, from despair to life and hope, which, although unheeded by the husband, was not lost upon his beautiful wife. “Wawandah is thankful. He will sleep in the wigwam of the White Bear, and gain from his goodness new courage to his heart, and strength to his arm, and skill to his eye. He will go forth to the chase as before. He will forget the love of the woman he cannot have, in the friendship of his sister—in the child the Good Spirit allowed him to save for the friend of his father. Wawandah will be happy, and the White Bear will make him so.” The Sunflower rose from the spot where she was seated at her work, and moving in all her gracefulness and dignity of carriage to her husband’s side, leaned over him, and thanked him for his goodness in permitting her to aid in soothing him to whom she owed her life and happiness with him. “Wawandah,” said the husband of the Sunflower, “you may go; I wished to give ease to your heart—not to pine away like a love-sick woman. You live here. I am not quite old enough to be your father, for five-and-twenty years have passed over your head, but I shall be every thing else to you; nor is Sunflower old enough to be your mother, but she shall be your sister, and her laughing eye shall make you glad. Go, then, part with your wigwam, and let it be known throughout the tribe the White Bear adopts you as his son.”