The house stood near the bottom of a hill, upon a piece of cleared land of perhaps half a dozen acres, upon which not the vestige of a stump was to be seen.  The ground sloped gently away from the building to the southeast, until it met a small stream, which meandered at the base of the hill, and running in an easterly direction, was lost to sight in the forest.  In front of the house, at the distance of a rod, bubbled up a bright spring, which, dashing down the declivity, fell into the first-mentioned stream.  Except this cultivated spot, which had been an old corn-field of the natives, selected by them for the fertility of the soil, its advantage of water, and the favorable slope of the land, which enabled it to engross more than a common share of the genial heat of the sun, and expedite the maturing of its harvests, all was one unbroken extent of forest.  In the soft autumnal days, when the maize leaves rustled yellow on their stalks, it must have looked to the soaring eagle, gazing from his “pride of place,” like a vast nest in a green leafy frame.

Around this building, at some little distance, viz., at the edge of the encircling forest, were scattered some four or five wigwams, or Indian lodges, made of the bark of trees, from some of which smoke curled lazily up into the blue sky, imparting assurance thereby of their being inhabited, though the presence of some naked children near the entrances, who were shooting with little bows at marks, and amusing themselves in other ways, made any such indication unnecessary.

As the soldier drew near, he heard more and more distinctly musical sounds, and presently could distinguish the tinkling of a guitar, accompanied by a female voice.  He stopped and listened.  The air was slow and solemn, the notes were soft and clear, and the words sweet, but not English.  There was a rich luxuriance, yet pathos in the music, like the utterances of a spirit whose hopes were mingled with reminiscences of joys which it had lost.  How long Philip listened, he knew not, so entranced was he by the sounds.  It was a long time since he had heard such delicious strains, and the effect upon him was therefore the greater.  Suddenly they ceased, as if his approach had been discovered, and immediately thereafter, a man stepped out upon the piazza.  Philip recognized him at once as the young man to whom Prudence had sent a message, and whom he himself had called Master Arundel.

He was a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three or four years, with that clear, bright complexion so common among the English, and which they owe to their foggy climate and habit of exercise in the open air.  Dark blue eyes looked out joyously from a handsome face, which would have been effeminate, so delicate were the features and rosy the tint of the cheeks, but for a brown moustache, which shaded the lip, and redeemed it from the imputation.  His doublet and hose were of a dark green cloth, as was also the cap he held in his hand, and he wore boots made of yellow leather, reaching above the knee, and full at the top.  Around his neck was a white band, like those worn by the wealthier colonists.  This young gentleman first spoke.