_Mait_. Hush, hush. Let it pass. See,--a bride!
_Mor_. (_Aside_.) Did he trust her with these murderers?
_Mait_. Ay--say yes.
_Andre_. Indeed, Maitland, you wrong yourself. It was the treachery of
this savage Manida that crossed your plans, working the mission of some
Higher power,--as for Alaska, you might as soon have doubted me.
The Chief he sent for her was one he had known years--but,
unfortunately, he was one in the ambuscade this morning--nay, the leader
of it; for the murdered Indian was his son; and meanwhile amid the fight
the treacherous Manida, who accompanied him to Maitland's tent last
night, and heard the promised reward, found means to steal from its
concealment the letter, with which he easily won this trusting lady to
accompany him.
_Mor_. Ah!--there it lies.
_Andre_. It was here in this glen that Alaska, discovering the
treachery, lay in wait for them with a band of chosen warriors, and on
that cliff above they fought.
_Lady A_. (_Aside_.) And she stood there, amid those yelling demons
alone! Methinks the angels should have come from their unseen dwellings
at her prayer.
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