"Only one. Him we saw only for a moment, and he did not speak with us."
"They are a very curious race," said Mr. Prevost, "and albeit not very much given to ethnological studies, I have often puzzled myself as to whence they sprang, and how they made their way over to this continent."
Lord H---- smiled. "I fear I cannot help you," he said. "Mine is a coarse and unstudious profession, you know, my dear sir, and leads one much more to look at things as they are than to inquire how they came about. It strikes me at once, however, that in mere corporeal characteristics the Indian is very different from any race I ever beheld, if I may judge by the few individuals I have seen."
"Bating the grace and dignity," said Edith, gayly, "I do think that what my father would call the finest specimens of the human animal are to be found among the Indians. Look at our dear little Otaitsa, for instance. Can anything be more beautiful, more graceful, more perfect than her whole face and form?"
Lord H---- smiled and slightly bowed his head, saying: "Now many a fair lady, Miss Prevost, would naturally expect a very gallant reply, and I might make one without a compliment, in good cool blood, and upon calm, mature consideration. I am very poorly versed, however, in civil speeches, and therefore I will only say that I think I have seen white ladies as beautiful, as graceful, and as perfect as your fair young friend, together with the advantage of a better complexion. But at the same time I will admit that she is exceedingly beautiful, and not only that but very charming, and very interesting, too. Hers is not exactly the style of beauty I admire the most, but certainly hers is perfect in its kind, and my young friend Walter seems to think so, too."
A slight flush passed over Edith's cheek, and her eyes instantly turned toward her father. But Mr. Prevost only laughed, saying: "If they were not so young, I should be afraid that my son would marry the sachem's daughter, and perhaps in the end take to the tomahawk and the scalping knife. But joking apart, Otaitsa is a very singular little creature. I never can bring myself to feel that she is an Indian--a savage, in short, when I hear her low, melodious voice, with its peculiar song-like sort of intonation, and see the grace and dignity with which she moves, and the ease and propriety with which she adapts herself to every European custom. I have to look at her bead-embroidered petticoat and her leggings and moccasins before I can bring it home to my mind that she is not some very high-bred lady of the court of France or England. Then she is so fair, too; but that is probably from care, and the lack of that exposure to the sun which may at first have given and then perpetuated the Indian tint. To use an old homely expression, she is the apple of her father's eye, and he is as careful of her as of a jewel, after his own particular fashion."
"She is a dear creature," said Edith, warmly, "all soul, and heart, and feeling. Thank God, too, she is a Christian, and you cannot fancy, my lord, what marvellous stores of information the little creature has. She knows that England is an island in the midst of the salt sea, and she can write and read our tongue nearly as well as she speaks it. She has a holy hatred of the French, however, and would not speak a word of their language for the world, for all her information and a good share of her ideas come from our good friend Mr. Gore, who has carried John Bull completely into the heart of the wilderness and kept him there perfect in a sort of crystallized state. Had we but a few more men such as himself amongst the Indian tribes, there would be no fear of any wavering in the friendship of the Five Nations. There goes an Indian now past the window. We shall have him in here in a moment, for they stand upon no ceremony--no, he is speaking to Antony, the negro boy. How curiously he peeps about him--he must be looking for somebody he does not find."
Lord H---- rose and went to the window, and in a minute or two after the Indian stalked quietly away and disappeared in the forest.
"What could he want?" said Edith. "It is strange he did not come in. I will ask Antony what he sought here," and going to the door she called the gardener boy up and questioned him.
"He want Captain Woodchuck, Missa," replied the lad. "He ask if he not lodge here last night. I tell him yes, but Woodchuck go away early this morning, and not come back since. He 'quire very much about him, and who went with him. I tell him Massa Walter and de strange gentleman, but both leave him soon. Massa Walter go straight to Albany, strange gentleman come back here."
"Did he speak English?" asked Edith.
"Few words," replied the negro. "I speak few words Indian. So patch 'em together make many, missy;" and he laughed with that peculiar, unmeaning laugh with which his race are accustomed to distinguish anything they consider witty.
The whole conversation was heard by the two gentlemen within. On Mr. Prevost it had no effect but to call a cynical smile upon his lips, but the case was different with Lord H----. He saw that the deed which had been done in the forest was known to the Indians; that its doer had been recognized, and that the hunt was up; and he rejoiced to think that poor Woodchuck was already far beyond pursuit. Anxious, however, to gain a fuller insight into the character and habits of a people of whom, as yet, he had obtained but a glimpse, he continued to converse with Mr. Prevost in regard to the aboriginal races, and learned several facts which by no means tended to decrease the uneasiness which the events of the morning had produced.
"The Indians," said his host, in answer to a leading question, "are, as you say, a very revengeful people, but not more so than many other barbarous nations. Indeed, in many of their feelings and habits they greatly resemble a people I have heard of in central Asia, called Alghanns. Both, in common with almost all barbarians, look upon revenge as a duty imperative upon every family and every tribe. They modify their ideas, indeed, in case of war, although it is very difficult to bring about peace after war has commenced; but if any individual of a tribe is killed by another person in time of peace, nothing but the blood of the murderer can satisfy the family or the tribe, if he can be caught. They will pursue him for weeks and months, and employ every stratagem which their fertile brains can suggest to entrap him, till they feel quite certain that he is beyond their reach. This perseverance proceeds from a religious feeling, for they believe that the spirit of their dead relation can never enter the happy hunting grounds till his blood has been atoned for by that of the slayer."
"But if they cannot catch the slayer," asked Lord H----, "what do they do then?"
"I used a wrong expression," replied Mr. Prevost. "I should have said the blood of some other victim. It is their duty, according to their ideas, to sacrifice the slayer. If satisfied that he is perfectly beyond their power, they strive to get hold of his nearest relation. If they cannot do that, they take a man of his tribe or nation and sacrifice him. It is all done very formally, and with all sorts of consideration and consultation, for in these bloody rites they are the most deliberate people in the world, and the most persevering, also."
A few days before, Lord H---- might have plainly and openly told all the occurrences of the morning in the ears of Edith Prevost, but sensations had been springing up in his breast which made him more tender of her feelings, more careful of creating alarm and anxiety, and he kept his painful secret well till after the evening meal was over, and she had retired to her chamber. Then, however, he stopped Mr. Prevost just as that gentleman was raising a light to hand to his guest, and said: "I am afraid, my good friend, we cannot go to bed just yet. I have something to tell you which, from all I have heard since it occurred, appears to me of much greater importance than at first. Whether anything can be done to avert the evil consequences, or not, I cannot tell; but at all events, it is as well that you and I should talk the matter over."
He then related to Mr. Prevost all the events of the morning, and was sorry to perceive that gentleman's face assuming a deeper and deeper gloom as he proceeded.
"This is most unfortunate, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, at length. "I quite acquit our poor friend Brooks of any evil intent, but to slay an Indian at all, so near our house, and especially an Oneida, was most unlucky. That tribe or nation, as they call themselves, from the strong personal regard, I suppose, which has grown up accidentally between their chief and myself, has always shown the greatest kindness and friendship toward myself and my family. Before this event I should have felt myself in any of their villages as much at home as by my own