(_Reading_.) "Possible"--"If it were possible"--he does not read that word as I did when I kept this promise--_Possible_? He does not know the meaning that love gives that word--"If I had known an hour sooner," --Ay, ay, an hour sooner!--"Trust me, dear Helen, they will not harm you." _Trust me_, trust me. Won't I? _Jan_. She is beckoning them, as I live! _Helen_. Bring me that hat and mantle, Netty. I must go with these savages. _Jan_. _Go_ with them! _Helen_. There is no help for it. _Jan_. With these wild creatures,--with these painted devils?--No--Like nothing human they look, I am sure. Ah see, see them in their feathers and blankets, and that long wild hair. See the knives and the tomahawks in their girdles! Holy Mary! Here's one within the court! _Helen_. Yes, there he stands--there's life in it now.--There they stand--the chesnut boughs wave over them--this is the filling up of life. They _are_ waiting for me. 'Tis no dream. _Jan_. Dare you go with them? They will murder you. _Helen_. If they were but human, I could move them--and yet it is the human in them that is so dreadful. To die were sad enough--to die by violence, by the power of the innocent elements, were dreadful, or to be torn of beasts; to meet the wild, fierce eye, with its fixed and deadly purpose, more dreadful; but ah, to see the human soul, from the murderers eye glaring on you, to encounter the human will in its wickedness, amid that wild struggle--Oh God! spare me. _Jan_. If you fear them so, surely you will not go with them. _Helen_. This letter says they are kind and innocent. One I _should_ believe tells me there is no cause for fear. In his haste he could not find no other way to send for me.--The army will be here soon,--I _must_ go with them. _Jan_. But Captain Grey will come back here again this afternoon. Stay,--stay, and we will go with him. _Helen_. You can--yes, you will be safe. For myself, I will abide my choice. Surely I need not dread to go where my betrothed husband trusts me so fearlessly. I count my life worth little more than the price at which he values it. Clasp this mantle, Netty.--And is it thus I go forth from these blessed walls at last?--Through all those safe and quiet hours of peace and trust, did this dark end to them lie waiting here?--Are they calling me? _Jan_. Yes. _Helen_. Well,--I am ready. (_Lingering in the door_.) I shall sit by that window no more. Never again shall I turn those blinds to catch the breeze or the sunshine. Yes--(_returning_), let me look down on that orchard once again. Never more--never more. (_She walks to the door, again pausing on the threshold_.) _Helen_. (_solemnly_.) Oh God, here, from childhood to this hour, morning and evening I have called on thee--forget me not. Farewell, Netty, you will see my mother--you will see them all--that is past.--Tell her I had seen the Indians, and was not afraid. [_She goes out_.