feeling glimmering among the fierce fires that so steadily burned in the breast of this savage; but they were so much eclipsed by the brighter light that gleamed around them, as to be barely perceptible, even to himself.  The result of all these passions was, a determination in Peter to spare those whom he had advised the missionary to unite—­making that union a mysterious argument in favor of Margery—­and to sacrifice all the rest.  The red American is so much accustomed to this species of ruthless proceeding, that the anguish he might occasion the very beings to whom he now wished to be merciful, gave the stern chief very little concern.  Leaving the Indians in the exclusive possession of Prairie Round, we will return to the rest of the party.

The missionary hastened after his friends as fast as he could go.  Boden and Margery had much to say to each other in that walk, which had a great deal about it to bring their thoughts within the circle of their own existence.  As has been said, the fire had run through that region late, and the grasses were still young, offering but little impediment to their movements.  As the day was now near its heat, le Bourdon led his spirited, but gentle companion, through the groves, where they had the benefit of a most delicious shade, a relief that was now getting to be very grateful.  Twice had they stopped to drink at cool, clear springs, in which the water seemed to vie with the air in transparency.  As this is not the general character of the water of that region, though marked exceptions exist, Margery insisted that the water was eastern and not western water.

“Why do we always think the things we had in childhood better than those we enjoy afterward?” asked Margery, after making one of these comparisons, somewhat to the disadvantage of the part of the country in which she then was.  “I can scarce ever think of home—­what I call home, and which was so long a home to me—­without shedding tears.  Nothing here seems as good of its kind as what I have left behind me.  Do you have the same longings for Pennsylvania that I feel for the sea-coast and for the rocks about Quincy?”

“Sometimes.  When I have been quite alone for two or three months, I have fancied that an apple, or a potato, or even a glass of cider that came from the spot where I was born, would be sweeter than all the honey bees ever gathered in Michigan.”

“To me it has always seemed strange, Bourdon, that one of your kind feelings should ever wish to live alone, at all; yet I have heard you say that a love of solitude first drew you to your trade.”

“It is these strong cases which get a man under, as it might be, and almost alter his nature.  One man will pass his days in hunting deer; another in catching fish; my taste has been for the bees, and for such chances with other creatures as may offer.  What between hunting, and hiving, and getting the honey to market, I have very little time to long for company.  But my taste is altering, Margery; has altered.”