“Me like very much,” was the reply.  “Me glad find father, brother.  All good.”

He paused a moment, and then added,—­

“A-lee-lah’s father, mother be dead.  A-lee-lah alone.  A-lee-lah did say not go.  Me promise come back soon.”

Mr. Wharton was silent.  He was thinking what it was best to say.  After waiting a little, William said,—­

“Father, me not remember what is English for squaw.”

“Woman,” replied Mr. Wharton.

“Not that,” rejoined the young man.  “What call Charles’s squaw?”

“His wife,” was the reply.

“Father, A-lee-lah be my wife.  Me like bring A-lee-lah.  Me fraid father not like Indian.”

Mr. Wharton placed his hand affectionately on his child’s head, and said,—­

“Bring A-lee-lah, in welcome, my son.  Your mother loved her, when she was Wik-a-nee; and we will all love her now.  Only be sure and come back to us.”

The brown eyes looked up and thanked him, with a glance that well repaid the struggle those words had cost the wise father.

So the uncivilized youth again went forth into the wilderness, saying, as he parted from them, “Me bring A-lee-lah.”  They sent her a necklace and bracelets of many-colored beads, and bade him tell her that they remembered Wik-a-nee, and had always kept her little basket, and that they would love her when she came among them.  Charles travelled some distance with his brother, bought a new Indian blanket for him, and returned with the garments he had worn during his sojourn at home.  They felt that they had acted wisely and kindly, but it was like losing Willie again; for they all had great doubts whether he would ever return.

He was incapable of writing a letter, and months passed without any tidings of him.  They all began to think that the attractions of a wild life had been strong enough to conquer his newly awakened natural affections.  Uncle George said,—­

“If it prove so, we shall have the consciousness of having done right.  We could not have kept him against his will, even if we had wished to do it.  If anything will win him to our side, it will be the influence of love and freedom.”

“They are strong agencies, and I have great faith in them,” replied Mr. Wharton.

Summer was far advanced, when a young man and woman in Indian costume were seen passing through the village, and people said, “There is William Wharton come back again!” They entered the father’s house like strange apparitions.  Baby Willie was afraid of them, and toddled behind his mother, to hide his face in the folds of her gown.  All the other members of the family had talked over the subject frequently, and had agreed how they would treat Wik-a-nee, if she came among them again.  So they kissed them both, as they stood there in their Indian blankets, and said, “Welcome home, brother!  Welcome, sister!” A-lee-lah looked at them timidly, with her large moonlight eyes, and said, “Me no speak.”  Mr. Wharton put his hand gently on her head, and said, “We will love you, my daughter.”  William translated the phrase to her, heaved a sigh, which seemed a safety-valve for too much happiness, and replied, “Me thank father, brother, sister, all.”  And A-lee-lah said, “Me tank,” as her mother had said, in years long gone by.