"When I saw him weeping, I, too, wept, and kissed him. He spoke kindly to me; but why did he weep?" Still no answer from her listening companion. "Then I dreamt--no, I cannot remember what else I dreamt--yet there was some one else there. I seemed to know his face, too; but a great storm arose, and all became dark, and I grew frightened. What was that?" "Alas! Sansuta, I cannot read my own dreams, far less yours." But Sansuta had already forgotten her question, and was again singing softly to herself. Presently she stopped once more, and putting both arms around Alice's neck, murmured that she was tired. The pale-faced maiden kissed her, and, as she did so, the tears from her eyes fell on Sansuta's cheek. "Why do you weep? Who has injured you?" Had Alice framed her thoughts into words she would have answered, the whole world; but, instead, she only replied to her companion with gentle endearments, and, at length, caressed her into a gentle sleep. It was a beautiful tableaux for a painter to delineate--beautiful--but at the same time sadly impressive. A young Indian chief, who had been a silent witness to it, must have thought so, by the sigh that escaped him, as he turned his face away. Wacora was the chief who thus sighed. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. STRANGE CHANGES. Wacora's love for Sansuta had long since changed into pity. A new feeling now possessed his heart. A new love had arisen from the ashes of the past: Alice Rody was the object! He had at first been struck with admiration at her courage; afterwards he had witnessed her discretion and tenderness, and then noted her beauty. His thoughts, thus stirred; soon ripened into a passion far stronger than respect. Pity and love had exchanged places within his bosom. He and his captive had done the same. The girl was free; her gaoler had become her prisoner. This new phase of feeling was not accomplished suddenly. It grew silently and slowly but surely. One thought troubled Wacora. It was Nelatu's admiration for Alice Rody. He saw that she cared not for his cousin, but he forebore to urge his suit, out of compassion for Sansuta's brother. His love, therefore, was speechless, and his captive was unconscious of it. But what of her? She, too, had changed. By one of those marvellous transformations of which the human heart is capable, Alice Rody not only became reconciled to her residence among the Indians, but even found much that interested her, even to the awakening of pleasant thoughts. Many of the Seminoles were, as has been stated, well educated, and with education had come the usual chastening influence. This was especially true of the young chief Wacora, and she had not failed to observe it. Her first reflection was what he might have been had he been brought up amongst her own race, for, although she had not been told of his mother being a white woman, she did not doubt that he had white blood in his veins.