"Maria, my soul's adored!" he murmured, "I feel that I have not many moments left, and I should die in despair did I not know that there is one who will protect you while he has life. God knows what has been the fate of our poor companions, but even if living, they cannot shield you from danger. Wau-nan-gee," he said, turning faintly to the youth, "two things I am sure you will promise your friend--first, to conduct yourself in all things as my wife--your sister--desires; secondly, to conceal and guard these colors until you can deliver them up to the nearest American fort." Then, when the youth had solemnly promised, with tears filling his dark eyes, that he would faithfully execute the trust, he turned again to his wife, and said in a tone that marked increased exhaustion at the effort he had made, "Maria, sweet, it is hard to die thus--to leave you thus; but yet you will not be alone--Wau-nan-gee will love and protect you, obey your will: yet you need not now fear, I have avenged your wrong--that wrong of which the ruffian boasted when I slew him--tortured him--the monster. How different the gentle love of this affectionate boy! But I have not strength--oh, what sickly faintness comes over me! surely this must be ----." "Death!" he would have added, but silence had for ever sealed the lips that never more would speak his undying affection for his noble, graceful, and accomplished wife. For some moments the unhappy woman continued to gaze upon the still features of her husband as though unconscious of the extent of her great misery, and when the reaction came, it was not expressed in shrieks or lamentations, or strong outward manifestations of emotion, but in the calm, serene, condensed silence of the sorrow that stultifies and annihilates. Her cheek was pale as marble, and there was a fixedness of the eye almost alarming to behold, as she rose erect from her bending position, and said, with severity, "This and more have your cursed people done, Wau-nan-gee! I shall ever hate to look upon an Indian face again! Yet that body must be buried deep in the ground, and in a spot known only to us both, where none may violate the dead. You have promised to obey me in all things. This is the first charge upon you. Let us go--the night is fast approaching, and the place remains to be reached, and the grave is to be dug. By to-morrow's dawn we travel together and alone through the wilderness, in execution of the will of your friend and my husband. Mark that, Wau-nan-gee! It is his will that we travel together--that you shall be my guide and protector. See this dress, how well it disguises me. I shall be taken, as we journey, for your squaw. Ha! ha! That will be excellent, will it not? Maria Heywood--Ronayne's wife--the mistress of a fiend--then Wau-nan-gee's squaw--and not yet six weeks married to the first!"