It was long after it had fallen upon the lids of Sir Christopher, that sleep visited the eyes of Arundel; but tired nature at last yielded to the solicitations of the drowsy influence, and he forgot both his joys and his sorrows.

When he awoke, the daylight was streaming into his retreat, and, sitting up on the hemlock boughs, he looked around.  The couch of Sir Christopher was deserted, and no Indian visible.  Wondering what had become of them, he rose and walked to the entrance, and beheld standing on the margin of the brook, the Knight in conversation with the savage, who, the night before, appeared to be the leader of the party.  They were so interested with their subject as not to notice his presence, and he had an opportunity to observe their bearing to one another.  To judge from that, the Knight looked to Arundel more like a conqueror than a captive, and rather giving than receiving orders.  The attitude of Sir Christopher was commanding, and he engrossed the principal part of the conversation.  From the frequency with which it was repeated, Arundel, as he fancied, could make out one word, which sounded like “Mesandowit,” but its meaning he was unable to divine.  He stood looking at them until the Indian discovered him, who, ejaculating the word “ahque,” (beware) the Knight turned and also saw him.

“Thy appearance dispenses with the necessity of asking how thou hast passed the night, Master Arundel,” cried Sir Christopher.  “Well, there is nothing like a trust in Providence, whereto I commend thee, to inspire with courage.  Courage may, in a certain sense, be said to be piety.”

“Truly, Sir Christopher,” said Arundel, catching confidence from the cheerful tone of the Knight, “I begin to regard thee as a sort of Providence, for wherever you move, you seem to exercise a command.  Now would I give something to know the secret whereby you have tamed yon savage.”

“It is no astonishing mystery.  I did but elucidate to him clearly our sacred character and thy mistake in firing.”

“Is he content with the explanation?”

“He seems to be.  The natives are not so unreasonable as is sometimes represented.  Difficulties between men do often arise from an ignorance of each others intentions; and one grand cause of contention is, doubtless, an inability to comprehend their diverse languages.  Now, I suffer under no such disability.  I can impart my ideas, and receive their own in return, and thus is language a bridge of reconciliation betwixt us.  Believe me—­a common cord vibrates through the hearts and minds of all men, and skilful words are the fingers wherewith to touch it.”

“Thou art a skilful musician in more than one sense,” said Arundel, as he turned to the brook to wash his hands and face.