The daughter of our friend and benefactor shall be denied nothing that she asks,’ replied the Cree Chief.  ’Take the woman to Oriana’s lodge, and let her be her slave.’

Jyanough approached to lead away the unhappy woman but she turned on him a look of despairing misery, and, laying her band on her husband’s arm, said quickly, ’I will see my Lincoya die, and then I will follow you where you will, for Mailah has no home.’

Jyanough did not oppose her, for his heart was touched by her sorrow and her fortitude; and the captive warrior turned his head, and bent on her sad countenance one look of tenderness and approbation, that told how deeply he was sensible of her devotion.

He did not speak—­perchance he could not trust his voice in that trying moment—­but he followed his guards, and his eye was again steadfast, and his step was firm.

Henrich and Oriana waited anxiously for the return of Jyanough:  but he came not; and they almost feared that Tisquantum’s request had been too coldly urged to prove successful.  It was a calm autumnal day; and as the sun rose high in the heavens, his beams were shrouded by heavy thunder clouds, while a low and distant murmur foretold an approaching storm, and added to the gloom that weighed heavily on Oriana’s spirit.  All the sin and degradation of the faith of her countrymen seemed to strike upon her mind with a force hitherto unknown, and to bow her down in shame and sadness.  Even to Henrich—­to her loved Christian friend and teacher—­she could not now utter her feelings; and when, to divert her thoughts, and remove her from the village where he knew so cruel a scene would soon be enacted, he led her towards the forest, she followed him silently.  They seated themselves beneath an overshadowing tree; and, for some time, no sound broke the oppressive silence save the soft rustling of the leaves, that seemed to be moved by the spirits of the air-for no wind was stirring.

Presently a shriek—­one single cry of agony—­arose from the village:  and all was still again.

‘It was a woman’s voice!’ exclaimed Oriana, in a tone of deep suffering.  ’O, Henrich! they murder the helpless and the innocent; and my father consents to the deed!’

Henrich did not reply; he had no comfort to offer.  But they both gazed towards the village, as if hoping to discover, through the impervious wood that surrounded it, some indications of what was going on in those ‘habitations of cruelty.’

Soon a dense cloud of smoke rose high in the still at; and flames shot up above the intervening trees.  And then burst forth a mingled din of wild unearthly sounds, that told of sated vengeance, and malignant joy, and demoniac worship.  Fiercely the war cry of the Crees rang in the air, while above it rose the shrill sound of clashing spears and tomahawks; and Oriana knew that the savages were dancing round a death-fire, and calling on Mahneto to accept their bloody offering.