I am sorry
about your brother. Are you well?"
"Well, but miserable. I want to see Nell. Dave tells me she is not
exactly ill, but something is wrong with her. Perhaps I ought not to
see her just yet."
"It'll be exactly the tonic for her," replied Heckewelder. "She'll
be surprised out of herself. She is morbid, apathetic, and, try as
we may, we can't interest her. Come at once."
Heckewelder had taken Jim's arm and started for the door when he
caught sight of Young, sitting bowed and motionless. Turning to Jim
he whispered:
"Kate?"
"Girty did not take her into the encampment," answered Jim, in a low
voice. "I hoped he would, because the Indians are kind, but he
didn't. He took her to his den."
Just then Young raised his face. The despair in it would have melted
a heart of stone. It had become the face of an old man.
"If only you'd told me she had died," he said to Jim, "I'd have been
man enough to stand it, but--this--this kills me--I can't breathe!"
He staggered into the adjoining room, where he flung himself upon a
bed.
"It's hard, and he won't be able to stand up under it, for he's not
strong," whispered Jim.
Heckewelder was a mild, pious man, in whom no one would ever expect
strong passion; but now depths were stirred within his heart that
had ever been tranquil.
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