Still such was the nobleness of this Indian lady that even then she would not take me at my word.

For a little while she stood smiling sadly and drawing a lock of her long hair through the hollow of her hand.

Then she spoke: 'You are not yourself, Teule, and I should be base indeed if I made so solemn a compact with one who does not know what he sells.

Yonder on the altar and in a moment of death you said that you loved me, and doubtless it was true.

But now you have come back to life, and say, lord, who set that golden ring upon your hand and what is written in its circle?
Yet even if the words are true that you have spoken and you love me a little, there is one across the sea whom you love better.