And on that dread night, when he lay upon the couch, slowly recovering from the terrible strangulation, was not the first word breathed forth from his lips her own name--Lena? And to have gone away, and staid away, and forgotten all this! It was not strange she wondered, not strange she grieved--or that the cloud of melancholy, already remarked upon, sat almost continually on her countenance. She had not forgotten _him_--not for a single day. Throughout the long lonely years, there was scarce an hour in which she did not think, though not permitted to speak, of him. She had been true to him--both in heart and hand--true against scores of solicitations, including that of Alfred Brandon, who was now seeking her hand in marriage, determined upon obtaining it. But she had resisted his suit--even braving the displeasure of her father who was backing it. And all for the memory of one who had gone away, without explaining the cause of his departure, or making promise to return. Often had she thought of this, and with bitterness--at times, too, with a feeling akin to spite. But now with Pierre once more in her presence, his tall graceful form before her eyes, she instantly forgot all, and threw herself sobbing upon his breast. There was no reservation in the act--no pretence of prudery. Lena's instinct told her he was still loyal, and the firm, fervent pressure of his arms, as he received her in that sweet embrace, confirmed it. For some time both remained silent--their hearts too happy for speech. At length it returned to them, Lena taking the initiative. "But tell me, Pierre, why did you stay from me, and for such a time?" "Your question is easily answered, Lena. I have made a long journey to begin with. I have been to California, and spent some time there in searching for gold. But that is not altogether what delayed me. I was for three years a prisoner among the Arapahoes." "Arapahoes? What are they?" "A tribe of Indians, who roam over the big prairie. I might have been still in their hands, but for a party of Choctaws--my mother's people, you know--who chanced to come among the Arapahoes. They rescued me by paying a ransom, and brought me back with them to the Choctaw country, west of here, whence I have just come almost direct." "O, Pierre! I am so happy you are here again. And you have grown so big and so beautiful, Pierre. But you were always beautiful, Pierre. And you have been to California? I heard that. But tell me, why did you go there at all?" "I went to find my father," he answered, in quiet tones. "Your father? But he--" The young girl checked herself at the thought of a fearful incident that only now rose to her remembrance--another episode of that night of horrors.