“Then we will remain among the Indians, if that please thee better.”

“To bring trouble upon them for their hospitality; to cause them to be hunted on our account, like wild beasts.  Thy generosity would disdain safety purchased by another’s suffering.”

“We will go to some distant tribe.  Anything is better than to remain in the hands of these pitiless fanatics.”

“I dread them not,” answered Sister Celestina, loftily.  “The talisman of the true faith will preserve me.”

“Is, then, thy resolution fixed beyond change?  Will no prayers, no entreaties change thee?”

“It is better thus:  the poor Sister Celestina knows how to suffer and to die, but not how to desert the post entrusted to her by her superiors.”

At this moment Joy and Sassacus entered, and the former, approaching the Knight, informed him that all was ready for a start.

“I am ready,” said the Knight.  “Yet, once again, before I hasten away, O, Celestina, come!  I cannot bear to leave thee with these men with natures rougher than the savage.”

“If I were to tell thee all,” she said, moved by his importunities, “thou thyself wouldst bid me remain.  Noble gentleman! unfortunate and slandered Knight, save thyself from thine enemies.  Hasten away; there is danger in every moment’s delay.  Whatever may become of me, no fault is thine.”

She took his hand in hers, and as she pressed it to her lips, the Knight felt a tear trickling over its surface.

“Farewell, then,” he said, “since it must be so; but I will hover near to assist thee, shouldst thou change thy resolution.”

He turned away, greeted the Sagamore, and, with his followers, began to leave the cabin.  As he passed the jailer, he stooped, and, removing the gag from his mouth, looked at him steadily an instant, and then placed two broad gold pieces on the floor before him.

The lady pursued with her eyes the retreating figures till swallowed up by the darkness.  “I will bear my cross as I may,” she said to herself, “for I deserve it for all my unhappy suspicions of his generous nature.  But I will do nothing which may give further color to the malignant charge devised by the justly-slain Spikeman, and taken up by his associates.  An escape with him were sure to do that.  The tongue of calumny would wag, and the finger of scorn be universally pointed at me, and all would cry, ‘aha! we said it.’  Such triumph shall not mine enemies have over me.”

Her meditations were interrupted by Bars, who now begged her to release him from bondage, or call his wife to do the friendly office for him.

“I desire to take you to witness,” said the lady, “that, though flight was in my power, I have not availed myself of the opportunity.  Say that to my oppressors, to increase the guilt of their cruelty.”

“I will say what you please,” Answered Bars, peevishly, “an’ you will untie me.”