"I have never known her; but her father was my father's friend, and I sought her because of that friendship." "Here?" "At Fort Dearborn, where she was left an orphan." "How strange! how very strange indeed! 'Tis a small world. Elsa Matherson! and at Dearborn?" Was it acting, for some purpose unknown to me,--or what might be the secret of these strange expressions? "Then you are not the one I seek?" She hesitated, looking keenly toward me through the dim light. "I have not said who I may be," she answered evasively. "Whatever name I may once have borne was long ago forgotten, and to the simple children about me I am only Sister Celeste. 'Tis enough to live by in this wilderness, and the recording angel of God knows whether even that is worthy. But I have been waiting to learn why you are here, creeping through the bushes like a savage! Nor do I believe you to be altogether alone. Was there not one with you yonder at the house? Why did he cry out so loudly, and fall?" "He imagined he saw a ghost within. He claimed to have recognized the face of a dead woman he once knew." "A dead woman? What is the man's name? Who is he?" "Captain de Croix, an officer of the French army." She sighed quickly, as if relieved, one hand pressed against her forehead, and sat thinking. "I know not the name, but it seems strange that the chance sight of my face should work such havoc with his nerves. Spoke he not even the name of the woman?" "I think he cried some name as he fell, but I recall it not." "And you? You are only seeking a way of escape from the savages?" For a moment I hesitated; but surely, I thought, this strange young woman was of white blood, and seemingly an enthusiast in the religion I also professed, and I might safely trust her with my purpose. "I am seeking entrance within the encampment, hoping thus to rescue a maiden whom I believe to be prisoner in the hands of the Indians." "A maiden,--Elsa Matherson?" "Nay, another; one I have learned to love so well that I now willingly risk even torture for her sake. You are a woman, and have a woman's heart; you exercise some strange power among these savages. I beg you to aid me." She sat with clasped hands, her eyes lowered upon the grass. "Whatsoever power I have comes from God," she said solemnly; "and there be times, such as now, when it seems as if He held me unworthy of His trust." "But you will aid me in whatever way you can?" "You are sure you love this maiden?" "Would I be here, think you, otherwise?" She did not answer immediately, but crept across the little space separating us until she could look more closely into my face, scanning it earnestly with her dark eyes. "You have the appearance of a true man," she said finally. "Does the maid love you?" "I know not," I stammered honestly, confused by so direct a question. "I fear not; yet I would save her even then." I felt her hand touch mine as if in sudden sympathy.