And when she recalled her fearful deed,
shuddering with horror, Catharine drew back and shrouded herself within
the tent, fearing again to fall under the eye of that terrible woman. She
remembered how Indiana had told her that since that fatal marriage-feast
she had been kept apart from the rest of the tribe,--she was regarded by
her people as a sacred character, a great _Medicine_, a female _brave_, a
being whom they regarded with mysterious reverence. She had made this great
sacrifice for the good of her nation. Indiana said it was believed among
her own folks that she had loved the young Mohawk passionately, as a
tender woman loves the husband of her youth; yet she had hesitated not
to sacrifice him with her own hand. Such was the deed of the Indian
heroine--and such were the virtues of the unregenerated Greeks and Romans!
CHAPTER XIII.
"Now where the wave, with loud unquiet song,
Dash'd o'er the rocky channel, froths along,
Or where the silver waters soothed to rest,
The tree's tall shadow sleeps upon its breast.
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