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 The young man bent his eyes to the floor, as he answered:

"I was a mere child when she left me, and could not well judge; but she was always delicate and pining. My father was wild with grief when she died."

"Has he no other child?" asked the young wife, looking tenderly toward her sleeping babe.

"He has an Indian wife now, and several little children."

"Does he like the red children as well as he does you?"

The young man smiled, and answered:

"He is not indifferent in his feelings toward the son of the pale-face,—Torch Eye, as he calls him,—but the Indian has a strong will. My father marks out a course for me; if I follow it, he is ready to lay down his life for me; but of late, my inclinations, or perhaps what the whites term conscience, have led me contrary to his wishes; therefore he has turned from me."