Old Angeline, The Princess of Seattle [pp. 506-512]

-Old Angeline, the Princess of Seattle.
two by no means mean accomplishments. He was ambitious as well, and
this alliance with Angeline would further him both in favor and power,and Angeline with all the soul within
her loved him. There was satisfaction
in her mien when he was near. She
was always ready to accompany him in
his canoe and listen to his plans for their
future. She it was who would inform
him of secret councils, of plans not yet
perfected concerning her father's policy.
Martin would then appear as a very Sir
Oracle to his less favored brethren. Alf
that was needed to crown the happiness
of the couple was the old chief's consent
to their marriage, but he, though viewing their attitude toward each other
with complaisant indifference, would
not bear approach.
One evening after a week's absence,
during which time he had been to visit
and confer with some distant tribes in
the interior, he returned to his wigwam
and called Angeline to him. She came
flushed with expectancy. Martin had
accompanied her father,-then he had
returned. Undoubtedly this summons
meant joy to her and Martin.
Her father viewed her in silence for
some time, but when he spoke there was
no hesitancy,
" You have been a good daughter, Angeline,-you will make a good squaw."
Angeline caught her father's hand
and kissed it.
"I have been among the Snoqualmies. Very brave, very good tribes
they are. Peace is between us, and that
it long may continue, I said to Chief
Squanim that you should be his squaw
and take care of his wigwam."
The girl stood motionless and speechless, stunned by this unexpected edict.
At last her father, troubled and irritated
by the silence, asked her if he had not
done well for her, —said that she would
be the wife of a powerful chief, and the
means of promoting harmony and union
between the tribes.
"But Martin," the girl gasped out.
"What of him? He is not for you.
An ordinary maiden will do for him.
You are the daughter of a chief,- you
must be mother of another."
The girl made an imploring gesture.
"I want Martin, I do not want to be
squaw to a chief."
There was an ominous silence.
"You shame me," and the voice of
the Chief trembled with suppressed
rage, "but you will not do it again, nor
shall any one know. Tomorrow Squanim will be here,- tomorrow night he
will be alone with you in your wigwam.
Go."
Angeline went out into the night,
dazed, uncertain that she had heard
aright, conscious of but one idea, one
desire,- Martin, to see Martin. Why
did he not come to her?
The night was calm and beautiful,
and the waters of the Sound reflected
the subdued light of the full moon.
She would' run down to where his canoe
was tied,- surely he would be expecting
her.
She ran at full speed along the winding path. She knew every step of it.
She stopped once to listen to a mournful
sound. It was a breeze stirring the
sighing firs. A superstitious terror
stole over her dim intelligence. "A
bad omen, a bad omen," she sobbed, and
hastened on.
As she came to the broad beach her
fear changed to joy. There was the
canoe, and there was her lover waiting
for her. She threw up her arms with
a cry of joy, and ran to him.
The next morning there was consternation in Seattle's household. Angeline
was missing, and not to be found. The
day wore on without a trace of her.
Squanim came, and Seattle in his wrath
sent for Martin,- but Martin could give
no information, no clue to her whereabouts. The chief sent him away in
anger, but half-convinced of his apparent
miserable sincerity. Squanim lingered
[Nov.
508