of a corpse, and he came into the council walking in
a dull lifeless way, as if hardly aware of what he was
doing. Those nearest to him shrank away, whisper
ing to one another that the seer looked like a dead
man.
Cecil came last. The severe mental conflict of the past night had told almost fatally on a frame already worn out by years of toil and sickness. His cheek was pale, his eye hollow, his step slow and faltering, like one whose flame of life is burning very low. The pain at his heart, always worse in times of exhaustion, was sharp and piercing.
He looked agitated and restless; he had tried hard to give Wallulah into the hands of God and feel that she was safe, but he could not. For himself he had no thought; but his whole soul was wrung with pain for her. By virtue of his own keen sympathies, he anticipated and felt all that the years had in store for her, the loneliness, the heartache, the trying to care for one she loathed; until he shrank from her desolate and hopeless future as if it had been his own. All his soul went out to her in yearning tender ness, in passionate desire to shield her and to take away her burden.
But his resolution never wavered. Below the ebb and flow of feeling, the decision to make their separa tion final was as unchanging as granite. He could not bear to look upon her face again; he could not bear to see her wedded to Snoqualmie. He intended to make one last appeal to the Indians this morning to accept the gospel of peace; then he would leave the council before Wallulah was brought to it. So he sat there now, waiting for the " talk " to
