Though its glance was weakened by infancy, the dark glittering
eye of Conanchet was there; there were also to be seen the receding
forehead and the compressed lip of the father; but all these marks of his
origin were softened by touches of that beauty which had rendered the
infancy of her own child so remarkable.
"See!" said Narra-mattah, raising the infant still nearer to the riveted
gaze of Ruth; "'tis a Sachem of the red men! The little eagle hath left
his nest too soon."
Ruth could not resist the appeal of her beloved. Bending her head low, so
as entirely to conceal her own flushed face, she imprinted a kiss on the
forehead of the Indian boy. But the jealous eye of the young mother was
not to be deceived. Narra-mattah detected the difference between the cold
salute and those fervent embraces she had herself received, and
disappointment produced a chill about her own heart. Replacing the folds
of the cloth with quiet dignity, she arose from her knees, and withdrew in
sadness to a distant corner of the room. There she took a seat, and with a
glance that might almost be termed reproachful, she commenced a low Indian
song to her infant.
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