"Let me place this around your neck then," said he, detaching from his own a chain made of porcupine quills, and curiously woven. "My mother made it. She said it was a charm, and would keep me true to my own people. I wore it in France, and I have returned to my tribe." "Not about my neck, Nahatton," said Felice, as he raised his hands to clasp the chain; "it looks too savage--bind it on my arm.----Why do you hesitate?" she asked, as she stood with her arm extended, and her sleeve pushed up. "It looks too savage! Already ashamed of your mother's blood! Oh, there is poison in your veins!" and as he said this he broke the chain, threw it down, and crushed it under his foot. "Oh, Nahatton, I did not mean that;--I am not ashamed of my indian blood--I will make you any promise--I will swear, on my knees I will swear to return to you." "Swear then upon this," said he; and he took from his bosom a silver crucifix, and offered it to her lips. At this moment the old woman, who, as they spoke in French, only understood as much as she could interpret from their gestures, rose, and darting towards them, she laid her hand on the crucifix. "No, no, Felice; swear not!" she said; "the oath will be written there," and she pointed upward, "when you have broken and forgotten it." Edward, in the intensity of his interest in the scene, had forgotten the necessity of secrecy. He carelessly leaned his arm on some rails that had been placed against the hut, one of them fell; the party within started and looked around them, and Edward instinctively retreated. If he went as swiftly as the wind, and once or twice thought he heard an arrow whirring through the air behind him, we hope our readers will impute it to the excited state of his imagination, and not deem him a coward, 'even upon instinct.' "Just in time, Edward, my son," said Mr. Sackville, who was standing by the carriage in which the rest of the party were already seated; "but what in the world ails you? you look as wild as if you had met a bear up in the wood there." "Oh, you would look wild too, father, if you had seen and heard what I have. Oh, mother! Oh, Julia! you never will believe what I have to tell you." "I have something to tell you, too, Mr. Edward," said his mother; "and as you are out of breath, and out of your wits, I will tell my story first, which I assure you is quite a romantic little tale to pick up by the way-side." "Well, do be quick, mother, if you please, for what I have to say is so wonderful." "No doubt; each one always thinks his own wonder the most wonderful. But I will not try your patience any longer. Do you remember our speculating on an empty carriage, which we saw drawn up under a tree with a man standing by it, about half a mile back?" "Yes, very well--but what of that, mother?"