The Last of the Foresters | Page 4

know Delaware," said Verty, smiling.
"Was it Indian?"
"Yes, indeed. I said to Cloud--that's his name you know--I told him to

_crouch_; that means, in hunter language, keep still."
"How strange!"
"Is it? But I like the English better, because you don't speak Delaware,
my own tongue; you speak English."
"Oh, yes!" Redbud says.
"I don't complain of your not speaking Delaware," says Verty, "for how
could you, unless ma mere had taught you? She is the only Indian about
here."
"You say _ma mere_--that means, 'my mother,' don't it?"
"Yes; oh, she knows French, too. You know the Indian and the
French--I wonder who the French are!--used to live and fight together."
"Did they?"
Verty nods, and replies--"In the old days, a long, long time ago."
Redbud looks down for a moment, as they walk on toward the house,
perusing the pebbles. Then she raises her head and says--
"How did you ever come to be the old Indian woman's son, Verty?"
Verty's dreamy eyes fall from the sky, where a circling hawk had
attracted his attention, to Redbud's face.
"Anan?" he says.
Redbud greets this exhibition of inattention with a little pout, which is
far from unbecoming, and too frank to conceal anything, says,
smiling--
"You are not listening to me. Indeed, I think I am worth more attention
than that hawk."

"Oh yes, indeed you are!" cries Verty; "but how can you keep a poor
Indian boy from his hunting? How that fellow darts now! Look what
bright claws he has! Hey, come a little nearer, and you are mine!"
Verty laughs, and takes an arrow.
Redbud lays her hand upon his arm. Verty looks at the hand, then at her
bright face, laughing.
"What's the matter?" he says.
"Don't kill the poor hawk."
"Poor hawk? poor chickens!" says Verty, smiling. "Who could find
fault with me for killing him? Nothing to my deer! You ought to have
seen the chase, Redbud; how I ran him; how he doubled and turned;
and when I had him at bay, with his eyes glaring, his head drooping,
how I plunged my knife into his throat, and made the blood spout out
gurgling!"
Verty smiled cheerfully at this recollection of past enjoyment, and
added, with his dreamy look--
"But I know what I like better even than hunting. I like to come and see
you, and learn my lessons, and listen to your talking and singing,
Redbud."
By this time they had reached the house, and they saw Miss Lavinia
sitting at the window. Verty took off his white fur hat, and made the
lady a low bow, and said--
"How do you do, Miss Lavinia?"
"Thank you, Verty," said that lady, solemnly, "very well. What have
you there?"
"Some deer horns, ma'am."
"What for?"

"Oh, the Squire said he wanted them," Verty replied.
"Hum," said Miss Lavinia, going on with her occupation of sewing.
Verty made no reply to this latter observation, but busied himself fixing
up the antlers in the passage. Having arranged them to his satisfaction,
he stated to Redbud that he thought the Squire would like them; and
then preferred a request that she would get her Bible, and read some to
him. To this, Redbud, with a pleasant look in her kind eyes, gave a
delighted assent, and, running up stairs, soon returned, and both having
seated themselves, began reading aloud to the boy.
Miss Lavinia watched this proceeding with an elderly smile; but Verty's
presence in some way did not seem agreeable to her,
Redbud closed the book, and said:--
"That is beautiful, isn't it, Verty?"
"Yes," replied the boy, "and I would rather hear it than any other book.
I'm coming down every day to make you read for me."
"Why, you can read,"
"So I can, but I like to hear it," said Verty; "so I am coming."
Redbud shook her head with a sorrowful expression.
"I don't think I can," she said. "I'm so sorry!"
"Don't think you can!"
"No."
"Not read the Bible to me?" Verty said, smiling.
"I'm going away."
Verty started.

"Going away!--you going away? Oh no! Redbud, you mus'nt; for you
know I can't possibly get along without you, because I like you so
much."
"Hum!" said Miss Lavinia, who seemed to be growing more and more
dissatisfied with the interview.
"I must go, though," Redbud said, sorrowfully, "I can't stay."
"Go where?" asked the boy. "I'll follow you. Where are you going?"
"Stop, Verty!" here interposed Miss Lavinia, with dignity. "It is not a
matter of importance where Redbud is going--and you must not follow
her, as you promise. You must not ask her where she is going."
Verty gazed at Miss Lavinia with profound astonishment, and was
about to reply, when a voice was heard at the door, and