"Oh," she whispered, "you are the pale-face my father has captured;
but if Tiger-tail should see me speaking to you, he would kill us
both. Such is the law of the Seminoles. No Indian maiden must speak to
a white man; but I never saw such as you before."
"But, how happens it," said he, in astonishment, "that you speak my
language?"
"My father taught me," was the reply, "he is a scholar; we all speak
some American."
"May I know your name?" asked our hero.
"I am Sunbeam, daughter of the Seminole chief."
"And mine is Henry Lee," he replied to her inquiring look. "You
are well named," he continued. "I have seen many daughters of the
pale-faces; but none so fair and bright as you. Sunbeam, at this my
first glance, I love you; can you sometime love me?"
"I do love you now," replied the artless girl; "the Great Spirit tells
me to do so; but we must not be seen together; they will kill us, we
must part at once."
"Dearest," cried Henry, "when can we meet again?"
"To-morrow at noon," came the impulsive reply. "In my cave there back
of that cypress; no one is allowed to enter but me; there I say my
prayers, and my father says it is sacred to me alone. Good-bye,
Henry," and she sped like a deer into the shades of the forest.
The youth was sincere, for it had flashed upon him like an inspiration
when their eyes first met, that she was born for him, and he for her.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141