Captain, said Cahoonshee, take this boy. He is one of nature’s noblemen. It has been the pride and study of my life to leave behind me an example of Indian training. I think I have fixed his character, moulded his mind, and educated him in the arts and sciences far beyond what he could have learned in the schools. Lay me down. That night Drake stayed with his parents. I shall not attempt to describe the interview. Suffice it to say that the Captain and wife were both inexpressibly happy in the society of their child. The Captain was surprised at the learning and intelligence of a boy that had been reared in the dark forest of the Delaware. Walter spent most of the night on deck with Amy, where he related his adventures in searching for her—the trip to England, the finding of Lord Wallace, and lastly, the discovery of his and her grand-father. Amy, nestling on his bosom, exclaimed: Oh, Walter, how happy I am. Will this always last? Certainly my dear. Nothing shall part us now. You will go with me to England and become queen of my house. And leave Drake and Cahoonshee? she replied. Walter looked into her sweet face as if to divine her thoughts. Drake will undoubtedly remain with his father, and Cahoonshee shall be taken care of. By whom? she asked. Walter saw that these words meant more than they expressed, and drawing Amy still closer to him, said: I suppose this old man has been a good friend of yours and you do not like to leave him. He has been more than a friend. He has been a father, a protector, an instructor. What little I know, he taught me. I wish to remain with him to the last. Your wish shall be gratified, said Walter. We shall not attempt to follow the parties or relate their conversation at this, their first meeting. And if we made the attempt, we would certainly fail, for the most vivid imagination cannot describe the sensation of two hearts so firmly united, that had been so long separated. They were in fact “one twain, one flesh.” Their hearts beat in unison, and each of them could truthfully say: “Mine is thine and thine is mine.” And here in the pale moonlight of a coming morn, we must leave the lovers, and turn our attention to other characters. Cora had, in a sense, been left alone. The others held within their embrace the object of their affection, but she was alone and lonely. The object of her affection was sitting between his parents in the cabin, relating the adventures of the past, and planning for the future. The future of that man was all the world to her. With him the future would be heaven. Without him, misery. From her room she could hear distinctly the conversation that passed between them. At last she heard him say: Now my dear parents, you must excuse me. Duty calls me to the side of my foster-father.