youth, who paid, at least, an outward respect to the customs of the congregation, and might yet, from the influence of godly Edmund Dunning’s child, be converted into a vessel of grace.  Moreover, the story was pretty well known, and the romantic love which had attracted him from New-England, and the wrong the two had suffered from Spikeman, worked in their favor in the hearts of the Puritans.  The marked attention which the generous Winthrop manifested now toward them, seeming as if anxious by present kindness to atone for former injustice, contributed also not a little to the feeling; and, honored and beloved, the young couple, with the sanguine anticipations of youth, looked forward to a cloudless future.  Yet was their happiness, especially that of Arundel, damped by reflections upon the condition of the Pequot chief and the lady in the prison, and of the Knight wandering homeless in the forest, with no place of shelter for his defenseless head save the wigwams of the friendly savages.  Knowing the severity of the government, the foreboding mind of the young man was harrassed with apprehensions for the fate which might befall them.  Access to the Lady Geraldine was permitted to him and Eveline, and thus were they able to bestow upon the unhappy lady at least their sympathy, for of nothing else would she accept; but no one was allowed to see the Sagamore.  In vain Arundel pleaded and intreated; in vain he recounted his personal obligations to the Chief; he was firmly repulsed, and told that though the feeling was honorable, it constituted no claim for the violation of a rule which their circumstances imposed.

Disappointed and somewhat incensed at the unnecessary harshness, as he conceived, wherewith the Chief was treated, and at the suspicion implied toward himself, he, one day on his return from an unsuccessful attempt to obtain an order for admission to the prison, from Winthrop, poured out his vexation and wounded pride to his mistress.

“Is it not,” he said, “most extraordinary, this refusal to allow me to say to a man who saved my life, that I have not forgotten him?  Is it because their treatment of the unfortunate Sagamore is so bad that they are unwilling it should be known? or do they think that in open day I would attempt to rescue him?”

“It is more likely,” said Eveline, “to conceal the weakness of the prison.”

“By heaven, Eveline, thy woman’s wit hath discovered the cause.  I have been thinking over his wrongous confinement, and my debt, till I can endure my inaction no longer, and I swear by St. George of England, that I will soon seek an opportunity to deliver the noble savage from the undeserved death, which sure am I, is his intended doom.”

“I blame thee not, Miles,” said Eveline.  “One were craven to forget a benefit.  Only show me how I can aid thee, and my assistance shall not be wanting.”

“Nay,” said her lover.  “This is no matter wherein soft, small hands like thine must interfere.”