_Helen_. What is it to die? Nor wood nor meadow, nor winding stream, nor the blue sky, do _they_ see; nor the voice of bird or insect do they hear; nor breeze, nor sunshine, nor fragrance visits them. Will there be nothing left that makes this being then? The high, Godlike purpose--the life whose breath it is,--can _that_ die?--the meek trust in Goodness Infinite,--can _that_ perish? No.--This is that building of the soul which nothing can dissolve, that house eternal, that eternity's wide tempests cannot move. No--no--I am not afraid. No--Netty, I am not afraid. _Jan_. Will you come here, Miss Helen? _Helen_. Well. _Jan_. Look among those trees by the road-side--those pine trees, on the side of the hill, where my finger points.-- _Helen_. Well--what is it? _Jan_. Do you see--what a blinding sunshine this is--do you see something moving there?--wait a moment--they are hid among the trees now--you will see them again presently--There!--there they come, a troop of them, see. _Helen_. Yes--_Indians_--are they not? _Jan_. Ay--it must have been their yelling that we heard.--We need not be alarmed.--They are from the camp--they have come to that spring for water. The wonder is, your soldiers should have let them pass.--You will see them turning back directly now. _Helen_. (_Turning from the window_.) Shelter us--all power is thine. _Jan_. Holy Virgin!--they are coming this way. Those creatures are coming down that hill, as I live. Yes, there they come. This strip of wood hides them now. What keeps them there so long? Ay, ay,--I see now--I am sorry I should have alarmed you so, Ma'amselle, for nothing too--They have struck into those woods again, no doubt; they are going back to their camp by the lower route. _Helen_. No. _Jan_. It must be so. There is no doubt of it. Indeed, we might be sure they would never dare come here.--They cannot know yet that your army are gone. Besides, we should have heard from them ere this. They could never have kept their horrid tongues to themselves so long, I know.--Well, if it were to save me, I cannot screw myself into this shape any longer. (_Rising from the window_.) _Helen_. Listen. _Jan_. 'Tis nothing but the sound of the river. You can make nothing else of it, Ma'amselle,--unless it is these locusts that you hear. I wish they would cease their everlasting din a moment. How that breeze has died away! Every leaf is still now! There's not a cloud or a speck in all the sky. _Helen_. Look in the west--have you looked there? _Jan_. Yes, there are a few little clouds beginning to gather there indeed. We shall have a shower yet ere night. (_The war-whoop is heard, loud and near_.) _Jan_. Mon Dieu! Here they are! It is all over with us! We shall be murdered! (_She clasps her hands, and shrieks wildly_.) _Helen_. Hush! hush! Put down that window, and come away. We must be calm now.