“I cannot agree with you,” said Faith, “and think you do your friend injustice.  The idea is, that the guardian genius exercised a controlling influence over the destiny of the young man; and I see no reason why if we concede the power to the genius to soften his nature, we may not grant also the ability to harden it.”

“Especially,” observed Pownal, “as the object of the protecting spirit would have been frustrated, had the lovers been united.”

All looked inquiringly towards him for an explanation.

“I mean,” said he, “that with such a fierce little squaw for a wife, the gentleman with the unpronounceable name, would not have continued a man of peace long.  There certainly would have been war within the wigwam, however dense the puffs of smoke from the calumet of peace outside.”

All laughed at the sally, but Anne intimated that she would have preferred a different termination.

“At least,” said Mr. Armstrong, who had listened in silence to the criticisms of the young people, “it teaches a profitable lesson to you girls.”

“What is that, Mr. Armstrong?” inquired Anne.

“That young ladies should know their own minds.”

“A most unreasonable expectation!” exclaimed Anne.  “We should become as stupid—­as stupid as reasonable people.”

“Besides,” said Faith, coming to her friend’s assistance, “the story was intended for the benefit of Indian girls, and not for those who read Shakspeare.”

“I suspect,” said Bernard, “that the writer was better acquainted with the Shakspearean ladies, than with Indian girls.”

“Why do you think so?” asked Faith.

“Do you not observe,” answered Bernard, “that he confines himself to generalities?  Not a word does he venture to say about the toilette of the beauty.  A description of the dress of the heroine, has always been considered indispensable in every tale.”

“Poh, William!” said Anne, “what a savage critic you are.  But, probably, there was so little to describe, the author did not think it worth his while.”

“And,” said Pownal, “is anything admissible in a picture which distracts the attention and withdraws it from the principal figure?  Good taste excludes ear-rings and gold chains from portraits.”

“Well,” said Bernard, “I dare say you are right.  It may be, too, that the dress was indescribable.”

“Who is this Manabozho, who comes in so opportunely, yet, without effecting much after all?” inquired Anne.  “I am charmed with his appearance; particularly, his big eyes.”

“He is a sort of Indian Hercules,” replied Bernard, “who plays a conspicuous part in many legends.  He is a compound of wisdom and folly, of benevolence and mischief, of strength and weakness, partly Manitou and partly man, and is privileged to do anything, however absurd and impossible, at one moment, while, at the next, he may be shorn of his power, so as to be incapable of taking care of himself.”