“And I to you,” replied Warren, as he returned the warm hand-pressure. “Don’ you ever be skeery whilst yer in Amerika an’ Ebenezer Maybee’s on top o’ the earth. By the Etarn’l, I’ll stick to you like a burr to a cotton bush, durn me ef I don’t.” Again the men clasped hands to seal the bond of brotherhood. “Meantime, Mr. Maybee, I wish you to take charge of them. I am called to Virginia on important business. I will leave a sum of money in your hands to be used for their needs while I am gone. When I return, I shall be able to tell just what I can do, and the day I shall leave for England.” Mr. Maybee promised all he asked, and then retired to the bar-room to astonish his cronies there by a recital of what the English gent proposed to do for two “friendless niggers.” Maxwell rowed over to the island to tell Winona of his departure and the arrangements made for her welfare. He laughed softly to himself as he thought of his own twenty-eight years and his cool assumption of the role of Winona’s guardian. Yet he was not sorry. Upon the whole, he was glad she had been surrendered to his care, that there would be no one to intrude between them; and he felt that the girl would also be glad; she appeared to rely upon him with child-like innocence and faith. How could he fail to see that the brown eyes clouded when he went away, and brightened when he approached? He secured the boat and directed his steps to the tall pine where she usually sat now. She was sitting there by the new-made grave, her hands folded listlessly in her lap. Her eyes were fixed upon the sunlit waves and were the very home of sorrow. At that moment, turning she beheld him. A sudden radiance swept over the girl’s features. Sorrow had matured her wonderfully. “Ah! it is you. I have been waiting you.” “You were sure I would come,” he smiled, taking her hand and seating himself beside her. “Yes. And I know you never break your word--never. You said you wished to speak to me of my future.” “Exactly. I could not go to England and leave you here alone and friendless, Winona,” he replied. “I could not bear it.” The girl shivered. A month ago, she was a happy, careless child; to-day she had a woman’s heart and endurance. Of course he must go sometime, this kind friend; what should she do then? “Yet I must stay. I have nowhere else to go.” “Surely you know of some friends--relatives?” She shook her head. “Papa never spoke of any. He used to say that we two had only each other to love, poor papa. Oh!” with a piteous burst of grief, “I wanted no one else but papa, and now he is gone.” “As He gave, so He has a right to take, Winona,” said Warren, gravely. He saw that she was indeed “cast upon his care;” surely there must have been some dark shadow in White Eagle’s past life to cause him to bury himself here in a wilderness among savages. Well, it must be as he had planned. He explained to Winona all that he had told Mr. Maybee. “And you will take Judah with you?”