“Florence, my wife, I can guess your secret. You are the wife of an Indian.”
“Oh, God! it is but too true, Warren; for two years I have been the wife of Allacotah--a noble and kind young chief, in whose veins course Anglo-Saxon blood by nature, if not by birth.”
The ranger groaned aloud, as though his heart was bursting.
“Then you love your Indian husband, Florence?” he asked.
“No, I only admired him for his kindness and noble principles, such as no other Indian ever possessed. I became his wife, only for protection from the insults of _his_ people and the power of _my_ people. But, I supposed you dead, Warren. Your servant told me he had seen you dashed to pieces over the Devil’s Tarn. Never, until the night you rescued Silvia from Black Bear, did I know you lived. And now you know my secret, my disgrace, Warren; so let me go.”
“No, Florence, you are mine. What you have done makes me love you all the stronger. It is no disgrace, it is only what a strong, brave and sensible woman would, and should have done under such trying circumstances.”
“But, Warren, you love another--you love my sister, Silvia.”
“Only because she _is_ your sister. God knows I never _could_ love another as I do you, my angel, Florence.”
Before Silver Voice could reply, Echo, the eagle, darted down through the forest with his warning cry of danger.
Turning quickly around, the ranger and his wife--for such she was, dear reader--saw a number of savages coming directly toward them.
“Oh, Warren,” the woman cried, “they are savages! fly for your life. They hate you--they will kill you!”
“Life is nothing more to me, Florence, without you,” replied the ranger, calmly.
The ranger stooped and kissed the sweet, pleading lips of his wife, and with a feeling of joy that had long been a stranger to his heart, he turned, and catching his animal that was grazing near, sprung into the saddle and dashed sharply away.
He at once shaped his course for his cavern home, which he reached after two hours’ brisk riding.
On entering Silvia’s apartment, what was his surprise to find a young man seated therein with her! As he entered, Silvia and the stranger arose to their feet, when the maiden said:
“My friend, Mr. Walter Lyman, Mr. Rainbolt.”