IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

, V r ■ V^ **.

- d

W'K

'-j'^: -'y^" /

1.0

1^128

110 ""^

= lum

•u „. I

I.I

„ lit

m
us

«. ..

«tuu

14.0

2.5
2.2

2.0

1.8

1.25

1.4 1.6

-• 6"

►

Pl^riinrrpcirihin

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

^Wv

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical l\flicroreproductions / institut Canadian de micrcreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
raproduction, cr which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

D
D
D

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommag^e

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou peliicul^e

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

□ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
?

D
D

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound wiih other material/
Relii avac d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La re Mure serr6e peut causer de i'ombre ou de la
distorsion le long de Ea marge int^rieure

Blank loaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possiole. these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certainas pages blanches ajouties
tors d'une restauration apparaissent dans !« texte.
mais, lorsque cela itait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 filmies.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl^mentaires:

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a iti possible de se procurer. Les details
de cat exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point do vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
ur.e image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger una
modification dans la methods normale de filmage
sent indiqu6s ci-dessous.

D
D
D

Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommagdes

Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restauries et/ou pelliculdes

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piqu6es

Pages detached/
Pages ddtachdes

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
Quality inigale de {'impression

Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partieilement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, una pelure.
etc.. ont 6t6 filmies d nouveau de facon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ca document est fiim^ au taux de reduction indiqui ci-dessous.

10X 14X 18X 22X

I ■

J L

12X

16X

20X

26X

30X

24X

28X

32X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

IVIcLennan Library
McGill University
Montreal

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page wit!i a printed or J|lustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol —^(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

L'exemplaire film* f ut reprodult grflce d la
gin^rositi r^e:

McLenna^M Library
McGill University
Montreal

Les Images sulvantes ont iti reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at
de la netteti de I'exemplaire film«, at en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimie sont filmte en commenpant
par le premier plat at en terminant soit par la
dernldre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont fllmte en commenqant par la
premlire page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration at en terminant par
la dernldre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un dee symboles suivants apparattra sur la
derniire image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols -^ signifie "A SUIVRE ", le
symbols y signifie "FIN".

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
filmto d dee taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul cliche, 11 est filmd A partir
do Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche A droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
iilustrent la mithode.

COAINA,

THE ROSE OF THE ALGONQUINS.

MES. AK^A H. DOESET.

» > • t «

KEIW YOEK:
P. O'SHEA, PUBLISHER,

No. 27 Barclay Street.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887, oy
P. O'SHEA,

in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern

District of New Yorlt.

COAINA,

THE ROSE OP THE ALGONQUINS

INTRODUCTION.

Wb have no dislike to religious fictions ; but where authentic
facts are already too abundant for our limited space, we see no
reason to lay aside realities in which divine grace has been the
chief agent, and some human heart the real scene of the action,
for tlie sake of suppositions or inventions of the mind, were
they ever so pious and interesting.

When the following pages were presented to us by their well-
known gifted authoress, we felt delighted with their beautiful
diction and their deeply interesting incidents ; still we would
not have presented the rich sketch, had it been merely a fine
tale. We therefore felt no ordinary gratification, when we
received, a few days since, the reply which we subjoin, inclosing
"our pages of a closely-written letter from our venerable friend,
IJishop de Charboanel, containing, in substance, the whole his-
tory of Coaina. But let the illustrious authoress herself intro-
duce, not the story, but the history of her admirable heroine :

Washington, January 27, 1866.
Very Rev. Sir:

After the time and labor I have expended on Coaina, I havo

It. fr.lly in my power to authenticate its truthfulness, under our

*▼ INTRODUCTION.

dear Monseignpiir de Charbonnel's own hand. Some twouiy
five or six years ago, this saintly man, then a missionary priest
in Canada, came to the Seminary of St. Sulpice, in Baltimore,
for the purpose of learning the English language through a reg-
ular grammatical course of study. He was a nobleman of rank,
and had long before relinquished his title and estates to a
younger brother, in France, to become a missionary priest.

I learned this from my venerated old confessor. Father
Deluol, who was Superior of St. Sulpice, and who introduced
Father Charbounel to us.

Father Charbonnel was in the habit of coming frequently to
our house to converse in English with us, and we considered it
a great privilege to entertain him at all times. One evening he
brought the little manuscript which I inclose— his/rsi! English
composition— y/hic\i he read to us with all the pleasure and
Bimplicity of a child, and to which we listened with the deepest
interest.

Once launched on the subject of Coaina he gave us many
interesting particulars of her history, not recorded in his little
narrative. - I was greatly interested, and promised him that I
would at some future day elaborate and make it into a story.
I have kept it religiously, partly on account of ray promise,
partly for the touching facts it relates, and partly as a relic of a
eaintly friend. Although Father Charbonnel was reticent on
that point, I am veri/ sure that he was the priest of the mission
at the time these events occurred. He would not own to it,
but allowed us to infer it. A year or so after he left Baltimore
he was made Bishop of Toronto. In the course of a few years
he resigned the mitre for the cowl.

In talking of (Coaina he expatiated on Coaina's devotion to

lie !

ir i

INTRODUCTION. f

tlio Blessed Virgin. Probably I have not been happy in hTm<r.
iiig out this fact conspicuously, but no one can read the narra-
tive attentively without feeling it. The names of the character?
—except Coaina's— are fictitious, and so are some of the trivial
i icidents and embellishments.

The situation of the niisdion, the villaa-e, the calvary, the
description of the people, the account of the « Taho," are all to
be found in the " History of the Indian Missions in North
America," which has been one of my favorite books for years
past.

In writing Coaina, I had one special object in view, besides
iliuRtrating the beauty and triumph of religion, and that is to
ro^rove the sins of uncharitableness, slander, and rash judg-
riJent, the three sins which crucified Christ. These are the siiis
of our age. I sometimes wonder, such is the prevalence of
these evils among Christians, if true charity has become an
obsolete virtue.

Would to God our clergy, and the Catholic press, w^ld
make a crusade against the specious, special, universal and-
Bhall T say it-inferAal sin of slander, in all its forms. I don't
know that I ever found any thing more applicable to thia point
than the history of Coaina.

Sincerely and truly your friend,

ANNA H. DORSET

COAINA:

THE ROSE OF THE ALGONQUINS.

CHAPTER I.

THE EVE OP THE ASSUMmON.

Not far from Montreal lies a beautiful lake, which
is formed by tlie dancing waters of the Ottawa, and
surrounded by picturesque hills, which slope in gen-
tle undulations down to its sedgy margin. It is
called Canaradago, or the "Lake of the Two
Mountains." One of the hills is crowned by a
Calvary, which is approached by a rugged, circuit-
ous path, along the sides of which stand, at regular
intervals, small rustic chapels, which are much vis-
ited by pious pilgrims, and where, during Lent, the
congregations of the Mission devoutly perform the
" Stations of the Cross," and sing, as they march
in solemn procession towards the cross-crowned
summit, the sorrows of Mary, the sonorous and
mournful chaunt blending, in harmonious accord,

• COAINA.

With tlio ponitontial season, and tlio commomora-
tivo siigpfostions of tlie spot.

Straggling along tlio shores of the lake and up
tho slopes, partly hidden by the hills and partly
shelk3red by the dark primeval forest, which re-
cedes gradually northward, and where the pines
and hemlocks ever moan together the sad hymn of
the centuries, nestle two Indian villages of a Catli-
olic mission, which diverge to the right and left
The one on the light belongs to a remnant of the
once powerful Algonquins ; that on the left to a
remnant of the Iroquois, who were, in former times
one of the great aboriginal nations of the north '
but although such near neighbors, these two people'
are as distinct in manners and language as they
were m the days of Carter and Champlain. These
Catholic Indians are the descendants of the fierce
savages who tortured the blessed Father Jogues
and martyred, with cruel and prolonged torments'
the noble and saintly Brebeuf. They Hve in lodges
bmlt of logs and covered with bark, and, during
the spnng and summer, cultivate their fields and
f^arden patches, where they raise corn, squashes,
potatoes, beans, melons and other useful vegetables
and frmts ; the women, sharing the lighter labors
ol the men, fish, dress skins and bark, dye the

COATNA.

qiiills of tlio porcupine, spin and woa . a coarse
cloth, onibroidcr tho garments, loggings and moc-
casins, which they so ingeniously fawliion, with
beads, tinsel, porcupine quiUs and fringes ; train '
their cliildren in strict obedience to tho rules of tho
mission, and in tho autumn migrate, with their Ims-
bands and famihes, to the huntmg grounds of tho
far northwest.

Devoutly christian as many of these Lidians are,
and deeming it their gi-eatest earthly privilege to
have a resident missionary priest among them to
baptize ana instruct theu' cliildren and themselves
in the way of salvation, to guide them aright while
Uving and console them when dying, they adJiero
with tenacity to many of their traditionary habits
and customs. On state occasions, they smoke the
calumet as a sort of a ratification ceremony, wear
proudly the trophies of the chase, chng to their
nomadic habits, take a simple pleasure in gew-gaws,
feathers, embroidered garments, and, at certain'
times, do not refrain fi-om painting their faces with
vermilHon and other rich colors, and are ever ready
to engage, with great zest, in their primitive and
stirring games. Rehgion has stripped these chil-
dren of the forest of none of their simple enjoy-
ments or innocent customs. It has done more

^ OOAINA.

grandly, more diTinely; it has transformed them
from worshippers of idols to worshippers and
adorers of the one true God— from a behef in a
false and weird cosmogony, and crude mythological
fables and traditions, to a firm belief and enduring
faith in the wonderful story of the creation, of the
birth of man, of the atonement of Jesus Christ
and the divine estabhshment of His Chm-ch upon
earth; made them children of that fold wliich ac-
knowledges ONE Lord, one faith, one baptism, and
be]> .^ves in the commandments of Almighty God,
and the precepts of His Chrrch. Thus, by an easy
transition, it became a strange but devout pleasure
to these primitive peoi>lo, instc^ad of offering sacri-
fice and hbations to the great JVendigoes i^tims,) to
propitiate their favor whenever they engaged in any
enterprise of hardship and peril, to mvoke the .pro-
tection of the Blessed Yirgm, and ask the assist-
ance of the prayers of the sauits; to coDimend
themselves, during their journey through trackless
foiests, and over rapid rivers, to the guardian care
of the angels of God, instead of the elfish Nee-oa-
naiV'haiqs (water spirits,) and the evil. Puk- Wedjics
(pigmies of the woods), to chaunt the plaintive
Misei^ere and De Profvndis as they bear their dead
to the fur-hned grave, and implore of the Great

1 !

COAINA. 7

Spirit, for their souls, a "place of refreshment,
light and peace," instead of performing the hea-
thenish rites of old, which were practiced at the
feast of the dead.

It was amongst this people, who are the fruits of
the blossommg of the Canadian wilderness, whose
rocky solitudes were moistened by the vivify-ing
dews of the precious blood of Christ's mai-tyi's,
that the events which we are about to relate hap-
pened somewhere near the year 1838, and if oui
introduction has been somewhat prosy, it was ne-
cessary to a better understanding of the nan-ative,
that it should be written ; therefore, patient reader,
if you will accompany me to to the chapel of the
Algonquin village, which stands on yonder knoll,
under the broad shadow of the hemlock and syca-
more tree^ which surround it, I will, without further
preface, introduce you to Coaina, the " Eose of tlio
Algonquins," and other personages of our narrative.

Somethmg is in progi\ssinand around themstic
chapel, into which the slanting rays of an August
sun fall in trembling showers of gold through the
quivering leaves, which indicates an approaching
festival. Yoimg Indian lads, with blossom-laden
boughs from the forest, with tripling vines bedight
with flowers of tropical hues, with baskets of

! 11

S f

COAINA.

I i,

mosses, with branches of wild roses, with great
clusters of golden-rod, asters and the wood ane-
mone, with wicker cages containing birds, with
clusters of wild grapes, still clinging in purple rich-
ness to the graceful vines, and garlands of gi-ound
myrtle, glowing with thousands of coral berries,
were grouped here and there around the chapel
doors, talking in subdued but cheerful voices, their
low converse interrupted now and then by a burst
of innocent laughter, which sounded m sweet ac-
cord mth the rusthng of leaves overhead, the wild
notes of the caged birds, the drowsy hum of bees,
and the distant murmurs of the dancing waters of
the lake. The lads peeped now and then into the
chapel ; they were waiting for some one who was
within to come out and receive the floral treasures
and offerings they had brought. Meanwhile they
took pleasure in observing the beautiful and sacred
objects and adornments of the altar, and the shrine
of Our Blessed Lady of the forest.

" Look, Joseph," said a Httle fellow, standing be-
side a basket which was covered mth burdock
leaves, " Coaina has unrolled the banner, and is
hanging it upon the wall behind the altar. Don't
it shine ? I've seen the sky look so often when the
sun goes down."

COAINA.

e they
sacred
slirino

ng be-
irdock
and is
Don't
en the

** Ugh I that's a grand banner, 'Tony. That s
th^ banner that the ladies of Montreal gave to the
mission a long time ago. They worked it with
their fingers, and it's full of real gold, pearls and
rubies, and was blessed, at the cathedral, by the
great chief of the Church, who wears a pointed
crown," replied Joseph.

"What's all that upon it, and what does it
mean ?" asked little 'Tony ; "Do you know Joseph ?"

" Father Etienne took me into the chapel once,
and unrolled the bamier and explained it all to me,
because I did not miss a single word in my whole
catechism," rep]ied Joseph, proudly. " I will tell
you, but I don't know whether you'll understand it
if I do."

" I'll try," said little 'Tony, humbly.

" Well, you see the eagle feathers, the bear and
the arrows and things. That's the iotem, (coat of
arms,) of the three christian tribes. Under that,
all in gold — red and yellow gold — with rubies done
in so cunningly, are the three council fires, and
over all, linked with the rest, you see, by devices of
things most prized by our people, is what Father
Etienne called the Monogram of Jesus Christ."
Here both boys bowed their heads and made the
sign of the Cross. "You see, 'Tony, that is all

COAINA.

clone with gold, and silver, and pearls ; but what
the word means I don't exactly know, and was
ashamed to ask, but I thought maybe it was His
Holy Name, in characters which I did not under-
stand."

" Thank you, Joseph. Isn't it a great honor to
have our totem on the banner with Christ's ?" said
Httle 'Tony, naively. « But look, Joseph, at that
bright star upon our Blessed Lady's head !"

" Kaw ! it is the sunshine !" said a lad standmg
by. Not irreverently, however, was this said. The
boy was only constitutionally matter-of-fact, and
could not make a star out of sunsliine.

" Sunshine is the light of the Great Spirit, and
it doe^ look like a star. Anyhow, don't you wish it
would stay there, for that's the way I think she
looks in the land of the Great Spirit," said httle
'Tony earnestly,

" WeU, yes, I'd Kke that sunshine to stay there if
it could, but it canH. I'd let it stay if I could, but
/can't either, so it's no use to be wishing. I'd
crown her with stars if I could reach high enough
to place them, but as I'm not high enough, we"!!
have to croTvn our ' white Mother,' (a name b^
which the Indians of the mission called her,) ^vith
flowers," said the matter-of-fact lad, moving off.

COAINA.

" See here, Joseph," whispered 'Tony, lifting up
the burdock leaves that covered his basket, " will
these do for the crown ? I found them, under piles
of leaves, down in the glen, near the dancing wa-
ters. Do you think Coaina will make a garland of
them for Our Blessed Lady's head ?"

" Oh, 'Tony, how beautiful 1 where did you find
these white violets? I thmk they must have
bloomed on purpose to crown our Mother on the
Feast of the Assumption!" exclaimed, in clear,
pleasant tones, the voice of a beautiful Indian
maiden, who had just left off hanging festoons of
Mowers around the rustic railing which enclosed the
altar, to come in search of fresh mosses for the
shrine, and flowers to crown the Tabernacle.

" Oh, yes, Coaina ! I think so, too," said little
'Tony, as he lifted his sparkling eyes to her face.
" I found them down by the dancing waters, in the
glen, under a great pile of leaves. My heart sings
Hke a bird because you love them, Coaina."

" Yes, 'Tony, these are lovely !" said the maiden,
hfting the rich, variegated mosses upon which the
violets rested. " So hko lier^' she murmured, " so
fair, yet so lovely; so pure, yet so humble ; so holy
and modest, yet concealing all, and covering her
divine hono-s with the poor garb of poverty and

OOAINA.

i i

lii

i i

seclusion. Yes, 'Tony," said Coaina, aloud, " thcso
look as if each one had dropped from a star-don't
you remember the old legend I told you the other
day ?_and we wiU crown Our Blessed Lady with
them."

As this is not a fiction which we, are relating
havmg learned the facts we relate, some years a-o'

from Monsignor De C , I wiU describe Coaina'

who was not only kno^vn by her baptismal name,'
Coama (Catharine), but was so beautiful, and so
beloved for her great virtues and the sweetness of
her disposition, that her people of the mission gave
her the soubriquet of To-Mc~The Kose. As Coaina
stood, holding the moss and violets in her hands—
the sunlight flickering down through the tremblin-
foKage, sprinkHng her from head to foot with ghtter"^
mg spots of gold-she was very beautiful. Her
3kin was hke the pale, amber-colored satin ; her
forehead low and broad; her nose straight, with
tliin, expanded nostrils; her mouth, smaU and
exqmsitely formed, was rendered more beautiful by
the white, even teeth, which the slightest smile re-
vealed ; her eyes, fuU of mtelligence and spirit, were
softened by long eyelashes, and cro^vned by brows
so evenly arched and black that the old men used
to laugh, and call her the "daughter of the two

iiiiiii

COAINA.

bows;" tlie head was OKqiiisitely poised on her
slender and graceful neck, and covered with a mag-
nificent suit of glossy black hair, whicli she wore
simply parted, and gathered together in a massive
plait, which was coiled around, and fastened to the
back of her head with a silver arrow, a present
fi-om a schoolmate, wliile she was at the convent
school of Notre Dame, in Montreal.

The crimson blood blushed softly in her cheek
like the sun-tints in a ripe September peach, and
her hps were as rnddy as the hoUy berries that
ghsten in coral richness amidst the snows of tU
Canadian forests.

Yes, Coaina was very beautiful, and I am p^x*-
ticular in describing her, because her young life
was so fuUy offered to Him who fashioned and
formed her wonderful lovehness, and modelle.1 so
perfectly on the virtues of her whom, from all eter-
nity. He had predestined to be the Mother of His
Divine Son.

Coaina was dressed accordmg to the manner of
her people. She wore a short skirt of blue and
white striped woollen, and a soft doeskin jacket
curiously embroidered with beads. Her moccasins
were also cunningly v/rought in gay devices, and
her leggings of scarlet cloth were finished with a

COAINA.

ill!:

gay little fringo of featliers at tlio seam. Yet over
all there was such a charm of modesty that, had
she been a veiled vestal, the influence of her purity
could not have been more felt and acknowledged.
Around her neck, suspended by a finely wrought
silver chain— the gift of the good sisters of Notre
Dame to their pupil— Coaina wore a medal of the
Blessed Virgin and a crucifix, which she prized
beyond all of her earthly possessions, and which,
as she stood in the chapel door, ghttered in the
sunlight, as, moved by the pulses of her heart, they
reposed on her bosom.

" There, Coaina, will these be enough ?" cried a
lad, throwing open a blanket containing thousands
of pine blades, odorous with bahns, which were to

be spread over the chapel floor.

"Not quite enough," she repKed. "Father Eti-

enne Mkes the floor well covered, Piquet ; you will

run back to the pines for more."

" I did want to go to my rabbit snares to see ho^t

many rabbits I've caught," said the Indian lad ;

"all the rest got rabbits yesterday, and I got

nothing but a musk-rat."

" Well, Piquet, if ypi: care more for rabbits than

you do for our Mother's festival, begone!" said

Coaina, gravely. ""Wo will get some one else to

serve Father Etiemie at Mass tu morrow."

COAINA.

" I do care for tho rabbits, Coaina, but I won't
give up the festival. Redpatli's boy and two others
have gone into tho forest with their bows and
an-ows, and won't be back until night ; but— but—"
and the boy's dusky face flushed, " but I want to
do something for our Mother !"

" That's brave, Piquet," said Coaina, laying her
hand gently on the black elf locks of the boy's
head. " You'll be a great hunter some day. The
Great Spirit will bless you, because you have
courage to do what is right. Run ojQf now to the
pines, and fetch me as many blades as the blanket
will hold, and then. Piquet, the day after to-mor-
row you shall go with me mto the forest to himt."
Just then she saw approaching the young chief
Tar-ra-hee, the hereditary sachem of her people,
and she turned swiftly and resumed her labors in
the chapel.

"Wmonah, will you fetch in the flowers and
mosses which the lads have brought ?" said Coama
to a young Indian girl who was busied about the
shrine of our Blessed Lady. The girl came for-
ward with an impatient air, and, although she bore
a family resemblance to Coaina— being her cousin
—no two persons could have been more unlike.
Winonah's eyes were fierce and defiant, wiih a cer-
tain wild Tet repellant beaut} in them • her brow

'I' I

COAINA.

wanted the breadth and serenity of Coaina's, and
her handsome mouth wore a proud and scornful
expression. Her attire, without being immodest,
displayed in its gaudy, flaunting style a vitiated
fancy, and a vain, ambitious nature. Trinkets
glittered in her ears, on her wrists, and around her
slender ankles, while in her black hair she wore
jauntily an eagle's feather, the totem of her father,
who had been one of the gi-eat chiefs of their
people.

"Why not fetch them yourself, Coaina?" she
asked, sharply, " or make the boys bring in the
baskets?" At this moment she caught sight of
Tar-ra-hee, who lingered still about the cha})el
door, and suddenly smoothing the frown from her
brow, she hastened forward, and, without seeming
to observe his presence, began coquetishly to
gather in the flowers.

" See, Coaina !" she said, " these asters and crim-
son berries will make such a lovely wreath for Our
Lady."

" I think these will be more beautiful, because
they are pure and white like her," said Coaina,
gently, as she held up the white violets.

" No, they will not do at all," answered Winonah,
to whose intense chagrin the young chief bad

because

COAINA. 17

moved away without noticing licr ; " I won't havo
them ; the crown must bo rich in color, and glow
around her head Hko flames of red and gold. Oh,
what a crown I will make 1"

'" What is the dispute, my dear children ?" in-
quired a voice which was gentle, but quick and
firm in its tones. Both girls started, as, turning,
they beheld Father Etienne, who had approached
imseen, standing near them. Both knelt, asldng
his blessing— Coaina with head bowed, Winonah
with eyes cast down, but with her head proutUy
erect.

" Now, my dear children," said the good priest of
the mission, " what is the difficulty ? Speak, Wino-
nah, my child !" With a ilushed cheek, Winonah
told liim frankly of the difference of opinion be-
tween herself and Coaina about tjie garland, with-
out exj^laining, however, the secret cause of her
jealous and angry interference, and showed him the
flowers of her choice, and those of Coaina's.

" Make garlands of yours, my child, and festoon
the mossy walls of our Blessed Lady's shrme, they
wiU indeed look rich and briUiant there," said
Father Etienne, gently; "but these must crown
her— these fair and modest flowers, so symbolic of
her pure holiness. Yes, Coaina, my child, you are

Illil

"ii

ii: !

1 I

COAINA.

right — mako of thorn a raro garhind, to crovvii and
honor hor on the Foast of hor AssnniiHion. So
far, ovorytliing is beautifully arranged — ah — yoH —
the banner is just in the right place. " See, chil-
dren, that the floor is well strewn with pine blades,"
added Father Eticnno, looking around with an air
of satisfaction, after which ho walked away, bless-
ing the children who were grouped around tho
chapel, who clung to his hands, and tho skirts of
his long solitary, as long as he would stay.

" Now," said Winonah, when he was well out of
hearing, turning to her cousin with an angiy coun-
tenance, " as you rule here, tell me what I am to
do."

" Let us help each other, sister," said Coaina,
gently.

"It was my wish to make the wreatii for our
Mother," said Winonah.

" You shall make it, Winonah. I was coming to
ask you, because I have the tabernacle to dress,
and so many other things to do."

" No ; if I can't make a fine flaming wreath of
the flowers that I like, I shall have notliiig to do
with it — ^you can make it youi'self, and dc tVe other
things beside," replied Winonah, tossing he proud
head.

i !

COAINA.

"As you wish, my sister, only lot us have the
chapel ready for the morrow," said Coaina. " Como,
children, bring in the flowers and mosses, and let
us all work together." And with good will tlu^ all
obeyed her directions, for she was the directness of
the sanctuary, chosen by the vote of the congrega-
tion from aniong her young companions for the
oflice, on account of her piety, docility, modesty
a'hd amiability.

But Winonab hhd no intention of leaving the
decorations of the chapel entirely in the hands of
Coaina, to hear on the morrow, from every lip :
"Coaina made that!" "Coaina hung those gar-
lands!" "Coaina, and none but she, could have
made our chapel so beautiful !" " What would be-
come of us without Coaina to decorate it for the
festivals !" and a thousand other expressions of the
like character. She had vented her angry spite on
her cousin, and now she would, to please her own
sinful vanity, take part in the preparations, and
only do that portion of the work which was agree-
able to herself. In a few moments she was busy
twisting vines around the cedar pillars which sup-
poi '.T he roof of the chapel ; now she climbed
Lghtiy to the rafters, and hung the cross-beams
with festoons of green, from which v/ere suspended

ll Ij' M

Ml i

COAINA.

the scarlet trumpet-flower and wild grapes, unti]
Solomon's Temple, with all its precious carvings,
and traceries of fruit and flower, was not more
beautifid. Still tripping along tlio rafters, with the
agility and lightness of a bird, she added a cluster
of golden-rod here, of the crimson-tinted sumack
there, of white hnmortcUes here, of wild roses there,
weaving in the asters and other flowers with cun-
ning skill among the green leaves and graceful
tendrils of the vines, until her task was finished.
" Oh, how beautiful ! Winonah, how beautiful !"
exclaimed Coaina, as turning from the tabernacle,
wliose decoration she had just completed, she
looked up and saw the really charming effect pro-
duced by Winonah's taste.

" I am afraid," was Winonah's ungracious reply,
" that Father Etienne will not Hke it, so long as
you did not do it."

" Never fear that, my sister," answered Coaina,
in the simpHcity of her heart ; " it is more beautiful
than anytliing I could do."

As the sun dechned toward the west, the arrange-
ments for the morrow were nearly completed. The
floor was strewn with blades of the odorous pine,
every footstep that pressed them distilling a subtle
aroma ; the altar was a glowing mass of verdure

COAINA.

eted. The

and flowers. Our Lady's grotto had been lined
with fi-esh mosses, a coronal of white violets en-
circled her brow, and a white lily, found among the
sedges of the lake, was placed in her folded hands.
The front of the grotto was draped and festooned
with Tines bearing rich hued. flowers, among which,"
half hidden by the leaves, hung the wicker cages,
containing birds, who uttered sweet wild notes of
wonder, as they fluttered in their airy prisons, to be
captives until to-morrow eve, when the festival
would end— then, at the chapel door, amidst the
laughter and happy converse of the children of the
congregation, Coaina would unfasten the door of
each cage arid release them, gi\dng them freedom,
air, sunshine and their homes far off in the depths
of the forest. This joyful little ceremony generally
closed the festival days of the mission, and was
particularly enjoyed by the young people of the
congregation.

But the last gUttering rays of the setting siui
shoot between a gorge in the hills, and sparkle here
and there like sacramental lamps— now upon the
jeweled folds of the mission banner, now upon the
gilded door of the tabernacle, now upon the bur-
nished head of the crucified Christ, now creeping
like a flame along the silver fringe of the altar

COAINA.

cloth. A quiet and solemnity now reign where so
short a time before was heard a busy hum. Here
and there kneel groups of those who, havuig com-
pleted the preparations for the festival, now exa-
mine their consciences for confession. Coaina knelt
close beside the slnine of the Blessed Lady, partly
concealed by the flower-wreathed pillars near it.
Amidst this devout silence, Father Etienne enters
with the most Blessed Sacrament, which he deposits
in the tabernacle, while every head is bowed low in
adoration of that grand and mysterious Presence.
He now takes his seat in the confessional, and soon
is heard the low whisperings of penitent hearts, as
one after another approach the tribunal. Dim
shadows, thrown by the purple twilight, steal in at
the open door, and with them come the old and
young of the mission, walldng silently and reve-
rently, wrapped in their toga-Hke blankets ; their
dusky, grave faces, and long black hair, hanging
loose about their shoulders, their noiseless motions
and immobile features adding to the solemn effect
and sacred repose of the consecrated place. The
women knelt apart from the men, clustering around
the shrine of the Blessed Virgin, their little children
kneehng beside them, lisping their innocent prayers
— all modestly attired, and all devout, save one,

'! I '■

COAINA.

^al, now exa-

who, taU and shapely, and of a proud, haughty
demeanor, knelt in a conspicuous place, where the
trinkets in her ears, and the tinselled embroidery
of her mantle sparkled brightly in the light of the
sanctuary lamj), while her eyes, large and restless,
roved critically and inquiringly around her, show-
ing that her heart was but httle in unison with the
whispered prayers on her lips, as she shpped the
beads of her rosary rapidly through her fingers.
This was Altoninon, the mother of Winonah, and
the aunt of Coaina, whom she had adopted in her
orphaned infancy, and reared in her own lodge.
Some one in a distant part of the chapel arises to
approach the confessional, and when she sees that
it is Tar-ra-hee, the young chief, she no longer
looks around, but with an expression of satisfaction
appears to recollect herself and attend more de-
voutly to her prayers. Thus it was within the mis-
sion chapel, but outside, wrajiped in their blankets,
stood two forms, their sharp, piercing black eyes
scanning the scene within, while an expression of
contempt and disgust pervaded their countenances.
One was very old, and was named Ma-kee (Knife).
He was by descent half Huron, half Algonquin, and
bad never been baptized, but hved peaceably among
the christian Indians of the mission, some of whom

'. ill
1 1* I

iil

COAINA.

U I

were liis near relations. Tlie other was a dissolute,
handsome and unbaptized young Iroquois chief,
from the neighboring village, called Ahaeek (the
Deer), who, having heard a rumor of the prepara-
tions, had come down to the Algonquin village to
see what was going on, hoping that he should, by
some chance, get a ghmpse of Coaina, whose
beauty and grace had made a profound impres-
fiion upon him.

CHAPTER II.

COAINA.

The Festival of the Assumption closed with the
riingmg of the Litany of Loretto by the congrega-
tion, the sacred melody being led by the powerful
and flute-like voice of Coaina. Swelled to a vol-
ume of rich sound, the holy chaunt floated out
upon the calm evening air, its solemn echoes lost,
in low reverberations, in the shadowy forest. Pur-
ple shadows, cast by the mountains, lay upon the
lake aiia shore while the pines and fii-s along the
ridges were fringed with the gold of sunset. Ero
tong, the inliabitants of the village assembled in a

COxVINA.

58d with the

gi'ove surrounding the great lodge, where the chief
men were accustomed to hold council, and debate
on any question wliicli arose respecting the inter-
ests of their people. The chiefs and the old men,
with Father Etienne in tlieir midst, sat around the
door of the lodge, placidly smoking, tolling tradi-
tions of the old iierce wars with the Hurons and
Mohawks, going over again the thrilling adventures
of their great hunting expeditions to the jiortliwost,
or listening to Father Etienne's thrilling naiTatives
of the early French missions in Canada. Old
Ma-kee, over whose head the snov/s of nearly
eighty winters had fallen, formed one of the group.
Seated upon the grass near Father Etienne, wrapped
in his blanket, with his chin upon his breast, he
listened. He seldom spoke, for as he declared,
" his breast was heavy at the degeneracy of his
people, who had become women ;" and when he
did, it was to scoff at the new creed they had
adopted, which he emphatically called the " smoke
of foohshness." But the claws and fangs of the old
lion were gone ; he was harmless, and out of chris-
tian charity he was allowed a place of honor among
his people, mth a comfortable support, in the hope
that, ere he died, his pagan dnrkness would pass
away, and he, at least, receive the purifying sacra-

;i 1

COAINA.

ment of baptism. Ma-kee had great faith in, and
respect for, Father Etienne, whom he knew to be a
brave as well as a good man ; but he did not hesi-
tate to tell him, on occasions, that there was no
reason or sense in what he taught, because no man
could understand it. And in tliis the old pagan
was no worse than the materialists of tliis, our day,
who reject the mysteries of faith because their
human reason cannot reduce them to its own level.
Father Etienne was relating the marvellous escape
of the French missionaries, nearly two centuries
ago, and many of their catechumens, from iLo
house of Saint Mary's, of Ganentaa, just when the
Onondagoes had conspired with the Mohawks to
massacre every soul of them. He described, with
great spirit, the ingenuity and courage of the mis-
sionaries in effecting their escape, and the speech-
less amazement of their foes when they found the
house so mysteriously abandoned. All listened
with profoundest interest, the twinkling of keen
black eyes and an occasional grunt of approval ex-
pressing their delight. When Father Etienne
ceased speaking, old Ma-kee lifted up his head and
spoke : " My grandmother," he said slowly, " re-
membered John Brebeuf. She was a Huron.
When he was dying under the torture ; when hia

COAINA.

fingers and thumbs were cut off; wlien he was
pierced with lighted spHnters, torn with scourges
and hacked with hatchets, many of the prisoners
around him, who had hkewiso been tortured all
night, begged him for baptism. He had no water ,
none would give him a drop. The day dawned ; at
sunrise they were all to be put to death. The piis-
oners begged for baptism ; there was not a drop of
water. Brebeuf lifted his hands and eyes to the
Great Spirit and prayed. Just then, my grand-
mother, very young at that time, came from the
fields with her arms full of maize stalks. The lonsr
leaves and tassels were dripping with dew ; it hung
upon them hke rain-drops. He saw it, and asked
her for one of the stallLS. He spake our language.
She had helped to torture him, but she was a
woman. She gave him two or three. He grasped
them with joy ; he bade the prisoners look up ; he
sprinkled them ; he signed the cross in the air over
tlieir heads Avith the maize, and so they were bap-
tized with the dews of heaven and his own blood.
I think that was enough. But Brebeuf was a brave
man. He died like a warnor ; he should have been
an Indian, ugh !" Having spoken, the dusky old
pagan i^Tapped his blanket about him, and agaui
dropped his head upon his breast, leaving his

^,.|.

! i

I'm !

OOAINA.

liearers variously affected by liis simple and true
narrative.

At some little distance from the great lodge, and
nearer the lake, Avere the women, the young people
and children of the village, standing or sitting in
picturesque groups under the trees and along tlie
sliore. Some exercised themselves by running,
dancing and leaping ; others sought amusement in
more quiet ways, while many played simple games
with shells and plum-stones, peculiar to their cus-
toms. Blithely arose their cheerful voices in pleas-
ant converse and innocent laughter, while each face
wore a look of contentment and enjoyment. "We
said that every face wore a glad expression ; that
was a mistake, for x4.1tontinon, who sat apart from
the rest, gorgeously attired, as usual, looked dissat-
isfied ; but no queen ever wore her royal robes
more proudly than she wore her coronal of blue
and scarlet feathers, her necklace and earrmgs of
silver beads, and her embroidered scarlet mocca-
sins and mantle. She was the widow of the de-
ceased sachem of her people, and, in de^'p-ult of a
son to inherit the dignity and title, had the mortifi-
cation of seeing it pass to the son of her husband's
brother, the present chief, Tar-ra-hee, whose bap-
tismal name was Cyril. Bitterly disappointed, and

! ilii!
I litJ!

111

COAINA.

2'J

obliged to bear, not only her own mortification, but
that of her kinsmen, it became a grave considera-
tion how to retrieve the loss. The idea suddenly
presented itself to her scheming mind, one day, to
marry her daughter, when of a proper age, to Tar-
ra-liee. Once admitted, this idea became the ruling
motive of her Hfe ; she was prepared to sacrifice
cverytliing to its accomplishment, and so pledged
herself to her kinsmen, who gave it their hearty
approval. Altontinon kept up a land of state
around herself, which no one cared to interfere
with ; for although she was a chiistian, she was not
a saint ; in fact, so far from being a saint, she was
-I don't know whether there is a n.ame in any In- .
dian dialect for it — but, in plain English, she was
a termagant. This woman had taken Coaina, who
was loft an orphan at a very early age, and nursed
her at her breast with her own child, who was, to a
day, of the same age Strange to say, she had

"-he stormed at her now
'<^ery that she spared
whole, kind to her. In
the perilous journeys of the tribe to the distant
1 muting gi-ounds, so full of hardships and priva-
tion, she cared as tenderly and constantly for the
young Coaina as for Winonah, and ever took the

loved Coaina, and y
and then, and set her t ,
Wmonali, she was, upon

COAINA.

!i 1

same pains in teaching lior those arts and accom-
phshmeuts so necessary to the complete training ot
an Indian girl. Coaina was skilful and expert in
them all. She excelled all of her young compan-
ions in domestic handicraft ; she was more expert
in dressing skins and dying quills and feathers ;
more skilful in fishing and hunting ; more agile in
running and climbing ; more ingenious in embroid-
ermg and fashioning the garments, which she made
with such celerity ; and more quick in acquiring
knowledge fi'om the books she was permitted to
read than any young person in the village. Her
school tasks were never neglected; her religious
duties never omitted, and as she grew towards
womanhood, there was developed in her character
so much purity, vii'tue and excellence, that she was
not only the favorite of the village, but was con-
stantly held up by parents to their children as a
model for their imitation. She, unconscious of her
superiority, was so modest and affectionate, so gene-
rous and cheerful that, with the exception of one, no
heart felt mahce, envy or ill-will towards her, and
that heart was Altontinon's, who had noticed all
this with ever-increasing discontent, and whose
chagrin was now completed by the fact tlia't Coaina
had become far more beautiful than "Winonah ; that

COAINA.

Bhe was more intoUigont and more beloved. Hero
wiis a cloud, and from it dropped tlie very gall and
wormwood of bitterness into Altontinon's soul.
Then arose the fear or presentiment that the supe-
rior attractions of her niece would frustrate all of
her plans for her child's union with Tar-ra-hee.
Henceforth her jealous misgivings gave her no
[)(3ace, and on several occasions, when she fancied
indications on the part of the young chief of ad-
miration for Coaina, she became almost fi-enzied
with rage. Coaina felt keenly the change in her
aunt's conduct towards her, and although her un-
kindness cost the poor child many a bitter tear, she
remained dutiful and patient, bearing all her hu-
mors with sweetness and in silence, and sought
refuge and consoli\tion only at the feet of Mary, to-
wards whom she had ever cherished the most reve-
rent and tender devotion, by whose Hfe she had
modelled her own, and whose gracious assistance
she constantly implored. About this time Coaina
was placed, by Father Etienne, at the head of the
female confi-aternity of the Immaculate Heart of
Mary, a position which Winonah expected and
hoped to receive. This added fuel to the flame in
the heart of the mother and daughter, who, by
many a sneer, taunt and slight, aroused every in-

COAINA.

dignant emotion in Coaina's nature, ami rcnclorcd
her life almont unendurable.

But as the storm.s and rains of March vivify and
strengthen the roots of the forest trees, so did
these tempests of ill-will and malice, which beat so
perpetually and harslily against her, strengthen her
soul, vivify her faith, and sweeten with eternal fra-
gi'ance the sweet blossoms of humility that had
such deep root in her soul. Then arose another
cause of bitter envy and jealousy. On a certain
occasion the two ghls were permitted to go, with
a party of their kinsmen, to Montreal to sell their
boad-work and foathers. Father Etienne gave them
a letter of uitroduction to the Superior of the Con-
vent of Notre Dame, who not only received them
kindly, but hitroduced them, at the hour of recrea-
tion, to the religious of the house, and also to the
lady pensioners of the academy. The beauty of
the two Indian maidens, the artless gi*ace and mod-
esty of Coaina, the proud mien and wildly bright
eyes of Winonah, their excellent French, their low,
sweet modulated voices and unsophisticated expres-
sions, won upon every heart. The lady pensioners
were half wild with admiration of these beautiful
Algonquin princesses, and purchased everything in

! 1

iffi

COMNA.

tlioir baskets, bositles making thorn prcsoiits of pic-
tures and little oriitinieiitH iii gold and precious
stones, which tliey took from their own ears and
lingers.

Not very long after this visit, Fatlier Etienno
received a letter from the lady superioress of this
convent, in which she spoke of the visit of Coaina
and her cousin, and after expressing the most
friendly sentiments towards both, offered to receive
Coaina at the academy as a pensioner for six
months ; at the expiration of which term, she would
also receive Winonah for the same poricjd. After
duo considtation with her friends and kinsmen, it
was agreed that Coaina should accept the advan-
tages offered by this kind invitation, and Father
Etienno accompanied her, himself, to Montrt^al.
Altontinon would have prevented it, had she dared,
but she had made up her mind, that in all that she
intended doing to carry out her plans, no agency of
hers should be apparent ; she w^as too proud, and
prized the position she held too higlJy, to be
willing to lose caste, so she gave a cold assent to
Coama's going, while she fumed in secret, and
poisoned still more Winonah's mind ngainst her
hmocent cousin. She told her, under a sncred

COAINA.

promise of secrecy, all that slio designed to do for
her advantage, and found in the ambitious girl a

willing ally.

Coaina was very happy in Montreal. Every ono
in the convent loved her, and took great pains in
assisting her through her tasks. Quick and appre-
ciative in everything they taught her, above all she
showed such a passion for music, and so astonish-
ingly was her talent developed by a little instruc-
tion, that she was regarded almost as a prodigy.
Her voice was of such surpassing sweetness and
compass, so full of a certain ivild life, that ere long
she was permitted to sing in the chapel choir,
where, her heart overflowing with the love of Jesus
and Mary, she sang the Salve Begina, with such
sweetness and fervor that the notes soared and
floated with thrilling effect above the grand thunder
tones of the organ.

When the six months had expired, the good
Sisters of Notre Dame would fain have detained
her ; they were unwilling to lose their beautiful
favorite, but she desired to go, that she might take
the place of Winonah in her aunt's lodge, and be
to her indeed a daughter, in the place of her absent
child. So she returned to the " Lake of the Two
MounI ains," and to her home, the same humble-

COAINA.

minded, light-hearted, simple child as she left ; and
forgetful of the past, she remembered only the debt
of gratitude she owed her benefactress, and deter-
mined to be more scrupulous than ever in the cLis-
charge of the duties she owed her. There was
great joy in the village when she came back. Old
and young had a pleasant greeting for her ; Father
Etienne gave her his blessmg with his welcome ;
the children brought flowers and birds for her ac-
ceptance, and the old pagan Ma-kee lifted up his
head and said : " The sunshine has come back to
us, and the song of birds. It is good."

Winonah was kindly received at Notre Dame,
but having no talent for music, and but little apti-
tude for study, the httle she gamed served but to
increase her self-conceit and vanity ; and at the
expiration of her term, she was hill of anger and
ingratitude against the good Religieuses, because
she had failed to learn what thej^ found it impossi-
ble to teach her. This, so far fi'om imputing to
her own want of caj^acity, she charged to their
indifference. This added fresh zest to the hatred
of Altontinon for the innocent Coaina ; but she
dared not, as we said before, brave public opinion
by open acts of violence to her ; therefore, like the
wily, malicious woman she was, she bided her time,

III

'■I

» f

,11 1

. \

i.!:i:i!'

COAINA.

and watched for her opportunity to give crashing
effect to her revenge.

Thus matters stood in the village of the " Lake
of the Two Mountains," up to the day on which
our little narrative opens, and we are happy to say
that no more digressions will occur, having put our
patient readers in possession of aU the necessary
facts to enable them to comprehend as mournful a
tragedy as was ever wiitten, crowned by as saintly
a martyrdom as the world ever knew.

Altontinon sat alone, stiU watching her daughter,
who was sportmg with other girls of her age on the
margm of the lake, and wondering what had be-
come of the young chief, Tar-ra-hee, whom she had
not seen since Vespers. Her keen, restless eyes
had been seeking him for the last half hour, but as
yet he had not appeared, either among the cliicf
men at the grand lodge, or with the young people
on the shore. She became impatient, and was
about to rise up from her seat, to walk round m
search of him, when some one suddenly approached
her, and askod, in a quick, impatient tone : "Alton-
tinon, where is Coaina ?"

She started round, and Tar-ra-hee, the young
chief, stood before her.

COAINA.

" Ts she not with her companions down there by
the lake ?" she asked.

" I will go and seek her !" he replied.

Now old Ma-kee, walking slowly, approached her
and asked : " Where is Coaina V"

"Ask me where your grandmother's ghost is?"
she said, sharply. " I do not know where she is."

"Altontinon, your rattles grow finelj'^," replied
the pagan, moving on.

" Where is Coaina, my child ?" inquired Father
Etienne. " I have not seen her since Vespers."

''I have not seen her for more than an hour, my
father. Perhaps she is in the chapel," she replied,
more respectfully. He went away. Group after
group of young people approached, one after the
other, all maldng the same, inquiry.

" We are waiting for her to begin blind man's
buff," said one.

'' We are waiting for her, to dance. Tar-ra-hee
is asking for her," said another.

" We want her to sing for us ?" said the children.

" We can't get along without Coaina !" cried
one.

" Everybody wants her ! where is she ?" screamed
another.

It : , ..;;

! •■!

I ■ i

COAINA.

Almost beside herself with fury, Altontinon, who
rostruincd herself with difficulty, j)rofesscd to be
ontiioly ignorant of the whereabouts of Coaina,
and she was finally left alone, but not long ; for
presently Httle Tony straggled up and asked the so
oft-repeated question : " Wliere is Coaina ?" and
received for answer a rousing slap, full on the side
of his tawny cheek, wliioh sent him roaring away.
Soon after, Tar-ra-hee came back, his gay feathers
nodding over his head, his silver ornaments, and a
gold medal sc;nt him by the English queen, glitter-
ing in the last glimmer of sunset — so full of life
and courage, so graceful and noble m his bearing
that, for an instant, Altontinon was lost in admira-
tion ; but his words recalled her to her own train
of thonght, and again plunged her into the abyss
of her o\vn malicious intentions, for he asked if
she had yet seen Coaina.

" I have not seen her ; can't the stars shine with-
out Coaina ? can't the wind blow ?" she answered,
in suppressed rage.

" No, the stars do not shine for me when Coaina
is away," replied the young chief, with a p^oud
nod." It grows always dark."

•' Coaina no longer heeds me ; she is beginning
to have lovers. Ahdeek, the Iroquois, has been

COiVINA.

around my lodge lately. Perhaps if you can find
him, Coaina will not be far off," said Altontinon.

The young chief started and turned upon his
lieel, stung sharply, but too proud to question his
tormentor. Altontinon thought, " he will now seek
Winonah," and watched eagerly to see if he went
towards her, but he strode off in quite another di-
cection, and she lost sight of him.

Tar-ra-hee wandered listlessly and moodily on,
heedless < . whither he was going, when he suddenly
halted and bent his head in a hstening attitude ;
then a gleam of joy lit up his swarthy features.
He was within a short distance of Altontinon's
lodge, and had heard Coaina's voice singing, in low
sweet tones, one of the hymns of the mission. He
sprang forward, and swiftly made his way thither.
It was, indeed, Coaina, seated at the door of the
lodge, with the soft moonlight falling upon her up-
raised face. She heard advancing footsteps ; the
i>ext moment Tar-ra-hee stood beside her. A deep
blush crimsoned her cheeks ; she arose and saluted
him, with downcast eyes.

" I have come for you, Coaina. Your compan-
ions await you on the shores of the lake. Come !"
he said.

" Did my aunt send for me ?" 3he asked.

Ir!

40 COAINA.

" No."

" I cfinnot come : do not wait."

" I will wait. Yon sliall como !" he said quickly.

" Cjiil !" exclaimed Coaina, who always called
him l)y his christian name.

" Forgive me, Coaina ; come !" he pleaded.

" No ; I cannot go. You must return to them.

" I shall stay here," he said, in a determined
tone.

" Don't — don't ! you must go away !" she said,
earnestly.

" I must go away !" he said, angrily. " Do you
send others away ? Why must I go ?"

" Ah, Cyril,go, and do not be angry, my friend,"
she said, while big tears rolled over her cheeks.
" I have something to do — a duty which I must not
neglect — and should you stay away and bo found
here with me ! ah, Cyril, don't you see how ill it
would look ?"

" Listen, Coaina," said the young chief, gravely ;
" I will obey you now, but give ear to my words,
and open your heart to take them in. My lodge is
empty, and before another moon I will rise uj) in
the council, and ask for you to be my wife."

A soft blush suffused Coaina's lovely face, and a
dreamy smile chased the tears from her eyes, buf

COAINA.

she only said : " Go, now, C^tII, my brother ; leaye
me."

" I go, Coaina," but when the moon rises to the
height of yonder red star," he said, pointing to one
overhead, " you will hear my flute not far off from
the lodge ; ^vill you listen to what it tells, Coaina?"

" I will hsten, my brother," she promised. Then
he turned, and moving swiftly away, was lost
•^.mong the shadows of the night.

CHAPTER III.

THE SHADOWS OF THE STORM.

The exultant gleam faded from Altontinon's eyes,
for no sooner had Tar-ra-hee left her than she felt
that her anger had got the better of her craft ; and
if she wished to succeed in her wicked designs, it
was a most impolitic way to begin by offending
him.

On that very day she had inaugurated her mali-
cious work. She had positively forbidden Coaina
to leave the lodge that evenmg, and had uttered a
slander against her to Tar-ra-hee, by coupling her
name with that of Ahdeek, the Iroquois, wliich she

! i : 11

! il

COAINA.

■'

Wcis crafty enough to know would; ac some time or
other, help to serve her purpose. Slie watched his
retrcatmg figure, satisfied that at least she had pre-
vented him from seeing Coaina that evening ; but
when she saw, in the distance, that he turned into
a lane of cedars which led to her own lodge, her
baffled rage almost suffocated her. " He would see
Coaina," she thought ; " he will find out that her ab-
sence from the innocent enjoyments of the evening
was compulsory, and having discovered tliis, would
suspect her, and give no credit, henceforth, to any-
thing she might assert to Coaina's injury."

The longer she sat there brooding over the fail-
ure of this, her first steps towards the accomplish-
ment of her ambitious scheme, the more intense
gi'ew her hatred, and forgetting that All-Seeing
Eye, before w^hich the profoundest secrets of the
soul are nakedly unveiled, forgetting all the divine
teachings and claim of religion, forgetting death
and the judgment, she vowed, "vvith a bitter curse,
that she would succeed in what she had under-
taken, even if Coaina's reputation and life be the
sacrifice.

But her guilt}^ fears were somewhat lulled to rest
when, later in the evening, she again saw Tar-ra-
hee among the young folks, and observed that he

COAINA. 43

showed much attention to Winonah, who exerted
all of her coquettish wiles and arts to charm him.

The moon had arisen, full and unclouded, over
the mountain, and everythinj^ ghstened in her rays
as if frosted with silver. The festival was over,
and the people were returning to their peaceful
homes.

Altontinon, wxdl pleased at the notice bestowed
upon her daughter by the young Algonqum chief,
walked slowly homeward, full of thought concern-
ing the advantages of a marriage between them.
Winonah tripped along lightly over the dewy turf,
a little in advance of her mother, whose eyes
watched lovingly the gracefully moving form, whose
every motion threw out sparkles and flashes from
the spangles and gold fringes which adorned her
tunic and moccasms. How she loved the girl, but
how savage and pagan was the h^ve which gave
birth to sins which would incur the displeasure of
God, and wound afresh the tender hearts of Jesus
and Mary. It is said that wdien a soul voluntarily
seeks evil, the prince of evil is ever ready with op-
portunities to serve its purpose, and so it seemed
to be on this occasion.

Among the Iroquois who lived in the adjoming
village, there w^ere some few who, rejecting Christ,

■! ' I

COAINA.

prcHOivccI their own lioathcnisli tr;i(Iitif)ns, c\\m<*
to tlio niH'iont cuHtoniH of tlioir ancestors, and, it
was whisporod, pra(;ticed in secret their idohitrous
rites. But as tliey were peaceable, and olwerved
all the civic rules of the mission, and interfered in
no way with their christian kinsmen or people, their
prosenco was tolerated, hi the pious hope that,
after a season, thej might bo induced co follow
then* example. Among these was their hereditary
chief, Ahdeok, (Reindeer,) who had often distin-
g-uishcd himself in their great hunting expeditions,
and excelled in all those accomplishments mt^yt
highly prized and appreciated by the Indians. Ali-
deek was handsome, vain, passionate, and it was
said that he was dissolute in his habits. He had
frequently seen Coaina, and had, in various ways,
endeavored to win a smile fi-om her, by expressing
his admiration by signs, gifts and words ; but she
had invariably repulsed every advance he hfid
made, and turned from him with a fi'own of dis-
pleasure whenever he ventured to approach her ;
but all this only incited him to more persevering
efforts to ^vin her.

On the evening of the festival he had strolled
down towards Altontinon's lodge, with scarcely a
purpose except to be near the home of Coaina, for

COAINA.

lie supposed her to be absent at the fostiyal, when,
to his great joy, lio saw her standing in tlio moon-
light, loaning against tlio nioss-covorod stile that
led to the lodge. She was reciting the rosary, her
eyes fixed on the cloudless heavens, and thinking
that, as the moon was throned in ghttering beauty
among the luminous stars, so was the Blessed Vir-
gin throned in heaven, and surrounded by the glo-
rious angels, whoso queen she is. It was a consol-
ing and beautiful thought, and as they twinkled and
trembled in dewy splendor, flashing out rays of
crimson, blue and gold, Coaina almost imagined
that she saw the flutter of their glorious wings as
thoy bowed before their queen.

" Left all alone, like a wild pigeon in the empty
nest ! I am glad to see you, Coaina," said the au-
dacious Iroquois, who had approached her miseeu
and unheard.

" Ahdeek !" exclaimed Coaina, starting ; « I wish
you well, but you must go away this instant. I am
all alone."

" That is good ; now I can say to you, face to
face, what you are blind and deaf to in signs. I
love you."

" Esa ! Esa ! shame on you ! Ahdeek, leave me 1"
she cried.

p ■

COATNA.

" I will become a chriHtian, Coaimi, if you will
boar mo !" bo plead.

" To b(3como a clnistian will bo a glorious tiling,
Abdeek ! but go ; Fatber Etienue will iiLstnict and
baptize you."

" No ; I learn tbe cbristian creed from you or
none. I tbougbt you cbristians would give your
bfe to save a houI."

" So would I lose mine to save your soul, Alideek,
but I sliall never enter your lodge ; I can never bo
more to you tlum a fiiend. I will pray for you.
You mu8t now go away," and Coaina turned from
him and Hwiftly entered the lodge, while he, bailled
and angry, strode olT, almost knocking Altontinon
down, ho came so suddoidy against her. She, as
keen-eyed as a vulture, had seen him, as she ap-
proached her lodge, talking Avith Coaina. At first
she thought it was Tar-ra-heo standing at the stile,
but when she discovered it wa^ Ahdeek, the Iro-
quois, she said : " Alia ! yes !" and rejoiced in her
wicked heart, because she knew that liis having
been there would help her evil plans ; then asking
Ahdeek if " he kept his eyes in his pocket that ho
might run people down in his path," she went into
her dwelling, and calUng Coaina, assailed her with
the most violent abuses ; affecthig to beUeve that

COAINA,

she had rnonivod tho Iroquois as lior lov.>r in lior
iibHenco, hIk^ uttorod tlio luoHt injurious iuHinuatiouri,
nor would slu^ li.ston to Coaiua'n explanations, Init
protended to booutra-ed and grieved and liorritied
at her conduct, called her a hypocrite, and finally
struck her in the face.

•

Almost stunned by the injustice and violence of
lior aunt's conduct, Coaina, \Wthout attempting to
speak aJiotlK^r word in her own def use, withdrew
to her own little apartment, and dropping the cur-
tain of skins which separated it from the rest of the
lodge, she threw herself prostrate upon the floor
before the blessed images of Jesus and Mary— of
Jesus, in His bloody coronal of thorns— of Mary,
of the seven dolors. She watered the floor with'
her tears ; she offered her griefs to them, and finally
found consolation in the generous resolve she made
to suffei^ patiently all the unmerited reproaches she
had received, for them who had suffered so wilHng-
ly ten thousand more infinite and bitter griefs for
her.

At last, her head resting upon her arm, she fell
asleep, and was refreshed by the dreams of inno-
cence. Once only did she awake. She had
dreamed of her dead mother, as she sometimes
did, and thought she was singing a soft lullaby to

COAINA.

her, whose strange, unearthly melody thrilled
through her heart, and awoke her. At first, she
did not know whether she was awake or still dream-
ing, for she heard, while the whippowil sent his
lamentations abroad through the forest, and the
screech owl answered in shriU vibrations, the sweet
wild notes of a flute, breathing assurances of a
pure affection. Then she remembered Tar-ra-hee's
promise, and while a soft glow stole over her tear-
stained face, she commended herself to the protec-
tion, of the Blessed Vkgin and fell asleep.

Like a fair prairie blossom agitated by the morn-
ing winds, and scattering, in prodigal brightness,
the dew-drops from its rich petals, so Coaina threw
off the sense of ill which oppressed her when she
first awoke. The first red beams of the newly-
risen sun shone through the vines that partially
shaded her window, and bathed in light the sacred
images of Jesus and Mary, which stood upon a
little shelf at the foot of her bed. " My Holy
Mother and Advocate," she murmured, folding her
long, tapering hands together as she knelt before
them, " look at thy divine Son, and obtain for me
a patience like unto thine."

Her simi)le toilet was soon made, and hurrying
out to the chajDcl she knelt in her favorite place.

COAINA.

close beside the altar of the Blessed Lady, and as-
sisted at Mass with the greatest devotion. Be-
tween the sweet and glorious mystery of the altar
and the benign presence of Mary, Coaina's whole
being reposed, as in a safe haven, secure from the
rude storms that threatened her.

Tar-ra-hee served Father Etienne at the altar
that morning, as he was frequently in the habit of
doing, and it was a touching sight to see tliis noble
young savage bowing in such sweet subjection to
Christ ; to see his strong arms folded in meek and
childlike devotion; his proud, handsome head
bowed, in unquestioning faith, before the Lord of
lords, whom he received humbly and reverently un-
der the form of Bread.

For several days nothing occurred to interrupt
the tranquillity of the Village of the Lake. Alton-
tinon behaved to Coaina with a certain grave dis-
pleasure, and when she addressed her, spoke in a
tone so harsh and sneering that she was deeply
pained ; but feeling innocent of offense and guilt-
less of crime, she omitted none of her duties, and
persevered in all her accustomed attentions to her
aunt and cousin, hoping, by patience to overcome
evil, and by prayer to turn their hearts forgivingly
towards her. She observed that Altontinon had

< I

■I ''-'

COAINA.

many and long secret conferences witli several of
her kinsmen and friends, and was surprised, once
or twice, to see her in close conversation with Ali-
deek, the Iroquois.

Tar-ra-hee had not approached her since the
night of the Festival of the Assumption ; she only
heard his flute, now and then, under the trees
around the lodge, and except that Father Etienne
and her friends around the village greeted her as
kind as ever, and the little children gathered about
her and hung upon her skirts whenever she ap-
peared among them, she would have indeed felt
friendless.

The clouds were gathering around her, and their
shadows were discerned by her delicate and sensi-
tive perceptions ; she knew not whence they were
comhig, or in what storms they would burst ; she
trembled with the chill that often swept over her ;
she felt that no mortal could help her in this mys-
terious coming woe ; but the darker grew her
dread, the closer she clung to the shelter of the
sanctuary, the oftener she fortified her sovl with
the divine sacraments, and with more constant fer-
Tor did she kneel at Jhe feet of Mary, imploring
her gracious protection.

But one day the clouds seemed suddenly to dis-

OOAINA.

perse, and again streamed the sunshine into Co-
aina's heart. Father Etienne walked into Altonti-
non's lodge while herself and daughter were par-
taking of their evening meal, and Coaina, who was
no longer permitted to eat at the same board with
them, sat apart, busily engaged upon a piece of
needle-work. Each one arose to welcome him ; he
returned their salutations with a cheerful air, and
taking the chair placed for him, he drew it to the
side of Coaina, and sat down. Altontinon's guilty
heart was agitated by this unexpected visit ; but
when the good priest announced the object of it,
she felt as if a bolt of ice had suddenly fallen upon
it. " I have not only brought you my blessing to-
day, my good children," he said, " but also most
excellent tidings. Tliis morning, while the assem-
bly were in council, dehberating about the sale of
some lands on the St. Lawrence, which they finally
decided not to sell, Tar-ra-hee stood up and de-
clared his mtention to make our child here, Coaina,
his wife, and asked the consent and approval of all
present, including myself. There was not a single
voice raised in dissent against it ; in fact, there was
a murmur of satisfaction very audible, for we all
knew, Altontinon, how precious is To-hic to her
people. They are all proud of their 'rose,' and

OOAINA.

each onp felt that tlio young cViof's choice of n
bride was not only a wise one, but a special plea-
sure ^o each individual present. Wlieu I was
callo^'. upon for an opinion — sit still, Coaina — I not
rnly hastily approved of Tar-ra-hee's choice, but
assured him, before all present, that in such a union
he would find all the good and happiness that, hu-
manly speaking, one could expect ; after which,"
continued Father Etienne, laying his hand gently
upon Coaina's bowed head, " the assembly ratified
its solemn approval and formal consent, and I hur-
ried here to be the first to bring the joyfid news to
your aunt, and give my blessing to the betrothed of
the good and brave Tar-ra-hee."

" Thank you, my father, for your goodness," she
said gently, and without lifting her modestly do^vn-
cast eyes ; " Cyril is genorous, but it is best, my
father, not to hope for too much. I have some-
times seen," she said, lifting her great soft eyes,
and looking before her -with a strange, far-off ex-
pression, " the day which rose the brightest close
in wild, wintry tempests."

" Coaina, my child, these are dreams. It is the
christian's duty to receive with joy and gratitude
whatever good our Father sends, without throwing
a veil of cloud and doubt over His gifts," said Fa-

OOAINA.

tlier Etienne, cheerfuUy ; but many and many a
time smce has he remembered her looks and words
that day.

"I will try, my father, to be grateful— to be duti-
ful ; but there's something," she said, passing her
hand over her forehead and eyes, " there's some-
tiling like a mist— I don't know what it is, but it
seems to shut out the sunshine."

" Coaina," said the good father, « if you were a
pale-face, I should say you have the vapors. You
have been keeping in-doors too much of late, and
stooping too long at a time over this everlasting
bead work and stitching. Altontinon, see to it, or
we shall have a burial instead of a bridal."

" I will see to it, my Father," rephed Altontinon,
with a double meaning ; then dissemblmg with L
self-possession worthy of a better cause, she ralhed
Coaina while she congratulated her, and pretended
to be highly delighted at the aUiance. « Leave her
\vith me, my father," she continued, " she is only
coy— you know how modest Coama is— she has to
tlimk a Kttle while— where a girl has two or three

lovers, it is difficult to decide all at once "

" My father," said Coaina, in response to Father
Etienne's look of inquiry, « I have no lover-that
is., I shdl be the wife of Cyril, or none. He is aU

■ II

iit

PI §

OOAINA.

that I could ask or desire." Coaina knew that her
aunt meant mischief ^y this hint, and that she re-
ferred to Ahdeek, the Iroquois ; slie therefore an-
swered as she did, with a shght hesitation, because
she remembered that Ahdeek had presumed to call
himself her lover ; and such was the tender and sa-
cred regard which this young Algonquin maid had
for the truth, that she would not fully deny her
aunt's statement, lest she should thereby offend the
truth.

" Well, well, my child, cheer up ! You have a
happy future ahead. Altontinon, hurry the wed-
ding preparations, for I am sure Tar-ra-hee will
not desire a very long delay," and Father Etienne,
giving but little thought tJien to what .ad passed
during the interview, hurried up to the Iroquois
village to one or two sick persons who needed his
ministrations.

The news flew through both villages, in an in-
credibly short time, that Tar-ra-hee had chosen the
Eose of the Algonquins for his bride. Coaina re-
ceived the hearty congratulations of old and young,
of friend and foe, until she, to escape their friendly
jests, and the incessantly repeated good wishes of
those who constantly crowded to see her, generally
slipped away from them, and by a back path found

'i !ill'

COAINA.

i;6

i^^i way to the chapel, to offer her newly-found hap-
piness to the Blessed Virgin, and hide her modest
blushes in the shadow of the sanctuary. We
spoke of Coaina's "friends and foes." It is mar-
vellous that so pure and Wely a nature should
have a foe ; but alas ! it is a world old stoiT how
vn-tue ever excites mahce ; beauty, envy; pr;sper-
ity, covetousness ; and feUcity, hatred and iU-wiU •
so, after aU, it is not strange that our Rose of the'
Algonqmns had her enemies who, to conceal their
plans for her ruin, assumed the guise of friendship
and were loud in their protestations of dehght at
her good fortune.

Never was happiness and prosperity borne with
greater modesty. The cloud that had shadowed
her heart seemed to have passed away. Altonti-
non and her cousin were more kind, and the strong
protecting love of her betrothed, gave her a feelin-
of tranquil happiness. No duty was left neglected •
no kmdness left undone ; no pleasure or assistance'
that she could afford was withheld. SkiUed, as we
said before, in hunting and fishing, she brought the
choicest dainties of the lake and forest to her aunt's
lodge, and so deftly did she perform aU her tasks
so important had she become to Altontinon's com-
fort and Winonah's whims, that her aunt began to

OOAINA.

feel what a terrible loss Coaina would bo to lier
This was another incentive to her to carry out her
selfish and malicious plots against the guileless
maid, for whose approaching marriage the most
splendid preparations known to these primitive
people were in progress.

CHAPTER rV.

"beware of the snake, to-hio.

It is well for the reader of this narrative to keep
this fact in view : that had the young chief of the
Algonquins united himself in marriage with Wino-
nah, it would have increased the dignity and conse-
quence of her mother's family, as it would have
secured to them the chieftainship and grand totem
of the tribe. Bitterly disappointed in their ambi-
tions and selfish asijirations, angry and disturbed
in mind, they were prepared to unite with Alton-
tmon in any plan she might suggest to them to
break off a marriage so disastrous to their schemes
of arrogance and pride. It seems strange to asso-
ciate the vices of civilization with the characters of

I! illil!

CO/VINA.

an Indian story; but beHeve me, friends, that
human nature, unless wonderfully dignified and
hallowed by grace, is the same latent savage every-
where, which only requires ch-cumstances, in a
greater or less degree, to rouse him from his lair m
the heart to seek his greed or revenge. Let us not,
then, be too much surprised, however much we may
feel grieved at the depravity of these disappointed
people, or deem incredible the events which follow.
It was not long before whispers began to float
about to the injury of Coaina, which at first only
excited a scornful expression of denial fi-om her
friends. She, all unsuspicious of the plots agamst
her happmess, was as blithe as a bird, wonderinc/
often, in her sweet humihty, why she should be so
blessed ! Her eyes, like a young doe's, grew softer
and more lummous, and her voice, ever trillino- in
sweet cadences, like the wild bu-ds of the forest,
became more low and gentle, and was only heard
when her full heart sought to give expression to
her grateful happiness, smging the beautiful Hta-
nies and touching hymns of the mission.

Not the least rejoiced of all her friends was old
Ma-kee, the unbaptized, who would sit watching
her— often in her aunt's lodge ; sometimes on the
shore ; sometimes at the door of the chapel, while

OOAINA.

sliG adorned the shrine of the Lady with flowers —
his withered face wearing a grave and pleased ex-
pression, and only breaking the silence to take his
pipe from his mouth, and say : " Ugh ! it is good !"
The affection of this old pagan for Coaina, I have
sometimes thought, in connection with her sad
stoiy, was a grace bestowed upon him for that act
of charity showed by his grandmother to the
martyr Brebeuf !

Of those most enraged at Coaina's approaching
marriage, was Ahdeek, the Iroquois, who found a
ready sympathizer in Altontinon, and readily en-
listed in the service to aid in the accomplishment
of that which would finally throw Coaina, helpless
and defenceless, in his power. He was now fi-e-
quently seen at Altontinon's lodge. This was not
agreeoble to Tar-ra-hee, who, without suspecting
any designs against his betrothed, nevertheless so
despised the low vices of Ahdeek, that he could not
bear to know the air she breathed was contami-
nated with his presence, and desired her to hold no
intercourse with him, but leave the lodge whenever
he came into it, which she invariably did.

Day after day rolled on, and the month of the
faUing leaves had come. The frosts had tinted the
leaves with the most gorgeous hues of crimson and

COAINA.

orange, which, blending with green and russet, and
relieved by the rich evergreens of cedar, pine and
hemlock, gave to the forests the appearance of a
gi-and parterre. Nature seemed to be preparing
her robes for a grand festival, instead of a burial.
There is sometliing sublime in this glorious passing
away of summer, as if in thus gathering about her
departure a splendor symbohc of a glad obedience
to the law of the great Creator, she offers a holo-
caust of precious adoration, and crowned with a
silvery nimbus expires like a blood-stained martyi^
fuU of the joyful hope of a resurrection to come!
Taking their lessons from the dying year, it is not
strange that the Indians, in the primitive days,
should have chanted their death-song, when life'
was passmg, their eyes fixed in hope on the setting
sun, whose radiance, they believed, illuminated
the pathway to the himting grounds of the Great
Spirit.

Tlie Indians of the mission of the Lake of the
Two Mountains, were preparing for two gi-eat
events— one was the marriage of their chief, which
Father Etienne desired should be celebrated with
gi-eat solemnity, not only to impress upon his
people the dignity of the sacrament, but to offer to
Tar-ra-hee and Coaiua a tribute of respect, which

t 1;

MMH

(U)

COAINA.

ho considered tliem eminently wortliy of ; the othoi
was the annual migration of the tribe to the liunt-
iug ^-ounds of the Northwest.

The young ladies of Montreal, who had known
and loved Coama at the Convent of Notre Dame,
sent her a magnificent bridal present of a dress of
blue velvet, made in the stylo of the picturesque
attire she wore when they first saw her, embroidered
with silver, and a veil of blue crape covered with
spangles. They knew her singidar devotion to the
Blessed Yirgin, and thought, justly, that the pres-
ent would be more acceptable if composed of her
colors. In the same box, neatly packed, and
directed to their beloved pupil, was a wi'eath—
made by the nuns, with the permission and ap-
proval of their superior— composed of deUcately
tinted feather flowers, among which were woven
clusters of Roman pearls. Directed to Father
Etienne's care, he no sooner opened the box than
he sent for Coaina, to whom he presented them
with genuine pleasure.

" My father," said Coaina, looking upon the costly
presents spread out before her, " these are very rich
and beautifi-J ! They are too fine for mc. I should
be ashamed to wear them. I have i^repared a
more simple and befitting attire."

COAINA.

"Coaina, my child, tlieso tliinjrg mnst be worn,
according to tlio intention which i>roniptcd tlie
gifts You cannot refuso to do so without appear-
ing proud and ungrateful, which you are not. If I
thought they would give birtli in your heart to one
single throb of vanity, I should at once advise you
to bum them up. But wear them, my child -it
will please your good friends in Montreal ; it will
please Tar-ra-hee and your people to see you splen-
didly dressed on your wediUng day. Afte?' that,
you can wear them for penance, if you choos,->," said
Father Etienne, laughing. " Now take them home,
my child."

" Yes, my father; but sometliing has happened— I
am troubled— may I speak to you ?" said Coaina.

" Yes— yes. But, my child, what is the meaning
of all this ? I confess that you perplex me !" said
Father Etienne, perceiving, as he looked up, that
Coaina's eyes were full of tears. « What is the
trouble ?"

" There is something, I do not understand what;'
she said, timidly, " that causes some, who were for-
merly my best friends, to curl their hps at me as
they pass ; they have no gi-eeting for me when 1
salute them, but look me fuU in the face, and, witli
a toss of the head, turn away."

t :

,miinm,x: »»«.•,.„ i...

OOAINA.

i\ '

" Tut ! tut ! my good child ! I fear that it is a
little envy on their part, and a little imagination on
yours. Did you never hear, Coaina, that when one
is about to marry, all one's faults are trumj^ed up
and magnified, and when one dies, all of one's vir-
tues are only remembered. So don't give yourself
unnecessary trouble about one's looks. Looks can't
hurt one. So tliat your conscience is clear, and
each duty performed with a view to the approval
of Almighty God, why should you be disturbed?
Go home, my child, assured that site who is the
'Help of Christians' will be your refuge and pro-
tection."

" That is my hope !" she repHed, with a smile
that irradiated her countenance — "that is my
hope !" Then, laieeling, she received Father Eti-
enne's blessing, and went away loaded with the
rich gifts which she was to wear at a supreme mo-
ment, but not as a bride. She had never hinted to
Father Etienne anything relative to the unkind
treatment which she had for a long time received
from her aunt and Winonah, because she not only
feared to wound charity thereby, but believed, in
her humility, that all she suffered was due to her
unworthiness ; nor had she ever referred to her
annoyances about Ahdeek to him, not caring to

A^m

COAINA.

trouble him about trifles ; and in fact, although the
effect of these annoyances was so clisagi-eeable and
senous a matter to her, there was scarcely anything
tangible or grave enough in them to justify an
appeal to Father Etienne ; he was, therefore, at
that time, entirely ignorant of aU the undercurrent
of deceit and wickedness that was going on, to the
prejudice of Coaina. Altontinon and Winonah
approached the sacraments regularly. Alas ! yes ;
they dared to approach the august feast of the'
altar, as Judas did ; they dared invite Jesus Christ
into their hearts, which were the abode of devils ;
they dared agam to cmcify Him by their mahce
towards His faithful servant, who, in return, prayed
for them night and day, and frequently offered hei
worthy communions for their temporal and spiritual
good.

One evening, Coaina, having remained later than
usual in the chapel, where she had received much
consolation in prayer, returned home, and found
her aunt and Winonah in raptures over a superb
mantle of mole-skins, fringed richly with gold
and Hned mth cloth. Coama had never seen
anythmg which struck her as being so magnifi.
cent, in her life, and she expressed her admiration
with simple earnestness, without once mquiring to

1 1 1>

COAINA.

whom it belonged. If she thought about it at all,
her idea was that it belonged to her aunt. What,
then, was her surprise when Altontinon threw it
over her shoulders, saying : " Tar-ra-hee knows how
to make princely gifts to his bride. The Queen of
England might be proud of this."

" Oh, how I wish I were you, Coaina !" exclaimed
AVinonah, clasping her hands.

" For me ! Oh, it is too grand, too costly for
mo ! When was Tar-ra-hee here ?"

" This afternoon, while you were at the chapel.
He will not be back until to-morrow evening. He
has gone, in his canoe, to fish, up the Ottawa, and
the word he left is that you meet liim on the shore
when he returns, with his gift, this superb mantle,
about you," said Altontinon.

" How foolish is Tar-ra-hee to have me make a
show of myself," she said, with a low laugh, as she
smoothed the velvety fur mth her small dusky
hand. " I shall, however, do as he wishes ; really I
am ashamed of such grand finery."

" It is not too fine for the bride of ow sachem,
Coaina! Why, gold, and silver, and precious
stones, would not be too grand for you I But what
have you got there ?" said Winonah.

COAINA.

" Something which I will show you by and by "
replied Coaina, who had felt Winonah's sneer, and
then, gathenng up the mole-sldn mantle with the
other things which she held in her arms, she re-
tired to her own apartment. Then Altontinon and
Wmonah embraced each other, laughed and danced
as if they were wild, and making other signs ex-
pressive of triumph, pointed towards Coaina's
apartment with fiendish glee.

The next evenmg Coaina folded the mole-skin
mantle and hung it upon her arm, then threw a
gray cloak about her in such a manner as to con-
ceal Its gold frmges and scarlet lining, and was
about leaving the lodge to go down to the lake to
wait for Tar-ra-hee, when her aimt accosted her
with a discomposed look.
" 'Wlieie are you going, Coaina ?"

" To wait for CyrU, as he left word," she mildly
answered.

" Oh ! But where is the mantle ? He was very
particular in his wish for you to wear it," said her
aunt, anxiously.

" I have it here," replied the unsuspecting girl "
as she lifted her cloak, that Altontinon might see
It. " I could not wear it through the village with-

COAINA.

out exciting too much observation, so 1 thought I
would put it about me after I got down to the hxke."

" Such modesty !" said Altontinon, scornfully.
"Little hypocrite, leave off that gray cloak this
instant, and wear Tar-ra-hee's gift, as he bade you.
He shall not be dishonored by having his mshes,
as well as his bridal present, sKghed in that way.
Shame upon you." Then Altontinon snatched the
grey cloak from Coaina's shoulders, shook out the
superb mole-skin mantle, and before Coaina, in her
surprise, could offer the slightest resistance, she
had put it around Ler, and fastened the showy
gilt clasps over her bosom. " Now go," she added,
" you are too poor-spirited to be the ivife of our
chief."

What was it that, like a strain of clear music,
suddenly whispered to Coaina's heart : "Blessed ai^e
the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven?^^
She could not tell, but, repeating the words to her-
self, she walked fi'om the lodge, forgetful of all
else, while her eyes wore that same far-off expres-
sion which we have before described. She did not
see the scornful looks directed towards her, or the
low-uttered sneers as she passed the various groups
collected in front of the lodges in the village, on

COAMA.

her way to the lake ; stiU less would she Lave u.-
cler«tood them even had she seen them

The soft musie of the waves i-ushmg swiftly to
the shove and meltmg „pon the sands-the ll

. n hght thrown across the late by the dechning

gather from her introverted communings ; and
«elect.ng a sheltered seat upon the gnarled .ots J
:; ^'IT ""'P''^' ""^"^^ ^^-<"^-. l'-"len with

smlace of the lake, she folded her hands upon her
tnoes, and awaited the coming of Tar-ra-hee. At
length, afar off, and in the very midst of the sun's
goHen track, his canoe appeared upon the dancin,!
waters; nearer and nearer it sped like an aiTow, ui^
to the smewy strength of the young chiefs arms.
Coama could now see the paddles flashing in and out
of the water, looking as if they were plated with
burnished gold ; tlien they were cbawn in, and Tar-
ra-hee stood up, his symmetrical form showing in
nohle rehef against the bright sky; his eye s^tept
the shore; Coama waved a bright scarf with whicl.
«he had covei.d her head ; he made a glad gesture
wth his hands, agata resumed his seat, and by a

.1 4

fc- I

CX)AINA.

few vigorous strokes of the paddles brought his
birchen canoe ghding swiftly up upon the sands.
Securing some of the finest and largest of his fish,
lie sprang upon the shore and hastened towards
Coaina, who, with a smile of welcome, modestly
advanced to meet him, when he suddenly halted —
his face flushed crimson, and an angiy scowl dark-
ened his features.

" Cyril !" said Coaina, timidly.

" Thou art fine to-day, Coaina, too fine for the
bride of an Algonquin christian," he said, scanning
her for a moment with grave scorn, from head to
foot, then passed on with quick, angry step. Here
was sudden darkness for Coaina ! His own gift,
worn at his own command to show her value for it,
to excite such cruel anger! It was a mystery
which was inexphcable to her. Tears gathered in
her eyes, her hands trembled, and she was obhged
to sit down while she tried to unclasp the mantle.
Bewildered and grieved, she returned slowly home-
ward, the mantle hanging upon her arm, and when
she was once more within the sohtude of her own
little apartment, she tossed it into an obscure cor-
ner, and, with a feeling of desolation, knelt, weep-
ing and sorrowful, to lay her griefs where she had
ever oflered her joys, at the feet of Jesus and Mary

OOAINA.

By and by she grew more composed, and began to
hope for the best. Guileless herself, she suspected
no evU m others-far less did she imagme the exist-
ence of any base designs against her. After a while
Altontinon came in under pretence of borrowing a
needle, and asked ; « Did Tar-ra-hee come?"

" Yes, he came," replied Coaina.

" Were you there in time to see him ?"

"I saw him."

" How did he think his bride looked in that royal
mantle ?" asked Altontmon, with an evil ghtter in
her eyes.

"I believe he thought it, after aU, too fine," she
said, looldng down.

" The unreasonable ! But, chHd, it was no use
to cry about that. Tar-ra-hee is only like all
other men— none are constant," said Altontinon,
with a sneer.

"I think that Cyril ife. Nothing can shake my
faith in him. T/e must not judge him rashly," said
Coaina, gravely.

"I won't dispute the point with you. Settle it
yourself. But did you hear that there's great sick-
ness among the Iroquois ?"

" Ko. Poor people ! What is it ?"

" A sort of di-eadf 111 fever. Father Etienne has

COAINA.

gone up there to baptize some of them who are
dying. It is worse up near the forest, where the
unbaptized ones live."

" Ah, may God brmg them safely into His fold
before their departure !" exclaimed Coaina, forget-
ful of her own sorrow, as she thought of the needs
of the dying.

" And,'' continued Altontinon, " that filthy pagan,
Ahdeek, has been hero blubbering like a woman,
and looking like a scare-crow, because his mother
is ill and won't let the medicine man come in to
her. Then he told me to ask you to talk to the
White Mother for her."

" I will, most gladly," said Coaina, who was only
too happy to be engaged in a work of charity.
Then she bathed her face, and wrapping her gray
cloak about her once more, started to go down to
the chapel to pray for the sick, and particularly
implore the assistance of the Blessed Vii'gin for the
conversion of Ahdeek's dying mother. Near the
chapel she met old Ma-kee, who stopped her to
inquire where Tar-ra-hee was.

" At his lodge, I suppose, Ma-kee. He has just
returned from fishing."

"He is not there, To-hic. He started an hour
ago for Montreal," said the old Indian. " Ugh !

.CO^UNA.

Black clouds open their wings in the face of the
sun sometimes. It is nothing strange-but be-
ware of the snake, To-hic ; beware of the deadly
moccasin creeping in the grass !" Then Ma-kee
wrapped his dii'ty blanket about him, and crept
on.

"What is this shadow that comes darkening my
heart ?" thought Coaina. « I thought it was gone
forever, but I feel the chill of it agam. O; Great
Spirit," she cried, prostrating herself before the
altar, " Thou sendest us joy ; Thou sendest us sor-
row ; whatever Thou doest is right ; only keep me
by the hand while the danger passes ; let me cling
closer to thee, sweet Mother of Jesus, that I may
not perish in the dark waters !"

Two or three days passed by, and Coaina saw
but too plainly that her people looked askance at
her. ,^ome refused to notice her at all— others re-
turned only a haughty nod to her salutations, and
once, when she met Father Etienne, she imagined
that, although he spoke kindly, he received her
with a stern and troubled expression of counte-
nance, neither stopping, as usual, to say a pleasant
word, or lay his hand upon her head in blessing.
Even the Httle chUdren began to shrink from her,
and stood back, gazing wouder-eye'd at her, when-

OOAINA.

I'*;
I, . i

ever she addressed them, or sought to gather them
about her. She felt bewildered by the HtrjsiigciicHB
of it all, but Father Etienne had told her that per-
haps " it -was half envy on the part of others, and
half imagination in herself" — therefore it might be
so ; she would not resent it, but bear it patiently,
in the good hope that God would accept her
humiliation, which she offered in the true spirit of
penance, in satisfaction for the many faults of her
life, and in His own good time disperse the cloud
which gathered so loweringly over her. Altontinon
and Winonah were jubilant, and affected to be ex-
tremely kind to her, while Coaina, nothing doul)t-
ing their sincerity, received their extraordinary
attentions with gratitude, and felt comforted that
they at least clung to her.

OOAINA.

CHAPTER V.

LUKED INTO THE SNARE.

Everything wore a change for Coaina— every-
thing except the consolations afforded her by the
divine sacraments. There was no change there.
Untainted by the world, for whose salvation they
were established, neither time, malice nor all the
powers of hell combined can shake them fi-om
then: eternal foundations, or strip them of the least
of their attributes. Not of the " earth, earthy,"
they never fail those who are faithful to them, and
though all mankind stand against the soul, they,
with infinite generosity, undying compassion, un-
selfish constancy, and prodigal love, encompass it
round about, never ceasing their consoling minis-
traticns, until that soul has reached the end of its
thorny pilgrimage, and passed the po talg of death
to its everlasting reward.

Coaina realized the truth of this in a wonderful
degree, for the more her "kinsmen and fiiends
stood aloof," the more constantly did she .;eek rest

OOAINA.

i ;

for lior wounded f pirit in the lifo-pjiving sacraments,
and shelter her troubled mind in the shadow of the
sanctuary. She could understand notldng except
tliat a time of tribulation had come upon her ; she
could do nothing save put her trust in the justice
and mercy of God, and the tender compassion of
Mary, and patiently await the result.

One day after confession, Father Etienne asked
her "if she had ever received any gifts from Ah-
deek, the Iroquois ?"
" Never, my father."
" Do you often see Alidoek, Coaina ?"
" Sometimes, at my aunt's lodge."
" Nowhere else ?"

" Never, my father. Why should I ?" Alidoek
is nothing to me."

" Very well ; I do not see why I should doubt
your word, Coaina."

" Thank you, my father," she replied gently.
" My tongue never lies."

" Be careful, my child, that it never does," said
Father Etienne. Tlien after a pause, he added :
" There are evil reports abroad concerning you,
Coaina ; I doubt them all, and shall continue to do
so until their truth is proved. If false, you are re-
viled without cause, and God Himself will succor

9 1 1

COAINA.

you ; if time, then, my poor eliild, you are guilty of
tlie most (loteHtablo liy]iocrisy. Being only man, I
cannot read your soul, and in the absence of proof
of your guilt or innocence, I daro not withhold the
sacraments from you. The responsibility rests,
then, upon your own soul. Go in peace."

She would have spoken, but a sob choked her
utterance, and rising from her knees she liastilv
left the confessional, and fell, rather than bowed, at
the feet of the image of the Immaculate Mother.
She could not fashion the anguished emotions of
her soul into words ; she felt, like her divine Sa-
viour, all the bitterness without the guilt of tho
things whereof she was accused, and of which she
was yet ignorant. Low sobs expressed her bitter
suffering, and every tear she shed was an eloquent
appeal to the compassion of God, as she knelt
there, the innocent victim of the malice of her
enemies.

No prayer ever uttered by prophet or saint can
compare with the adoration of a speechless w^oe,
which resigns itself in dumb resignation to the Di-
vine will. His face may be hidden for a while by
the cloud which veils it, but He is ever near ; and
when His designs are accomplished, He disperses,
by a single breath, the shadows which hid Him,

nil

COAINA.

and lifts up the fainting soul y^th tender consola-
tions, ofttimes crowning her with glory and eternal
honor.

Where was Tar-ra-hee ? Ho had returned from
Montreal, and remained at home a week. One
evening Coaina, after decorating the shrine of the
Blessed Virgin with a garland of rich flowers which
she had that day gatliered in the forest, knelt down
to recite the Eosary. Wliile she dropped bead
after bead, she thought of the sorrows that had
crowned and pierced the immaculate heart of Mary,
feeling all the time the sting of her own strange
grief, until tears gathered in her eyes and rolled
over her flushed cheeks. A quick, soft step entered
the chapel, and then some one knelt, unperceived
by her, not far from her. Covering her face with
her hands, she bowed her head, resting it on the
feet of the pure image of the Virgin Mother, and
murmured : " Thou wilt not forsake me, my Pro-
tectress and Mother. Be thou my friend and con-
solatrix ; then if all the world forsake me, what
need I fear?" Her devotions over, she was about
leaving the shrine, when some one touched her
lightly upon the shoulder, and a familiar voice ut-
tered her name in a low tone. She turned quickly,
recognizing the voice, and saw Tar-ra-hee regard-

<i-^'

COAINA.

mg her with a grave and sad expression of counte-
nance. A crimson blush mantled her face • she
stood suddenly stiU, while her tearful eyes rested
with a wild and startled expression on his face.
He walked to the side door of the chapel, where
thick vmes drooped over a sort of trelhsed work,
forming a vestibule screened with leaves and flowers,'
and beckoned her to him.

" I am glad to see you, Cyril," she said, standing
before him with her hands folded, and her eyes
modestly cast down.

" Is that what you also say to Ahdeek ?" he
asked, gravely.

"Who, Cyril? The Iroquois? I am never glad

to see him."

" But you receive his gifts, Coaina !"

" I have never received aught from Ahdeek," she
said quicldy.

"And never see him-and never go to the forest
to meet him ?" exclaimed Tar-ra-hee.

" Never, Cyril. What could have poisoned your
heart to believe such a dreadful thing ?"

" Coaina, I thought, a few moments ago, when I
saw you kneelmg there so humbly, your head bowed
like a magnolia flower after the storm, that you
must be innocent, or you dared not pray. My

COAINA.

heart melted like the ice in the Ottawa, when the
warm spring tides break it up, and I only thought
of my love for my betrothed. But Coaina, what
you say is not white ; it is a lie."

"Oh, Cyril — Cyril, my brother!" she cried, in
anguish ; " tell me what you mean ! What have I
done ?"

Then he told her about the mole-skin mantle.
Alideek had shown it to him months ago, and told
him it was to be worn only by his promised wife,
and for that he was reserving it. He told her how
unworthy Ahdeek was, and how blighting to a vir-
tuous reputation was all association with him.
Then he told her how his joy had suddenly turned
into anger and mourning the day he returned home
from fishing, and found her waiting on the shore
for him arrayed in Ahdeek' s gift.

" And was it not your gift, Cyril ? My aunt "

then a divine charity closed her lips.

" Did any one tell you it was from me, Coaina ?"

" I thought so, C;yTil ; it was left for me. I
thought it was your gift, and I wore it that evening
to show you how much I valued it," she said ear-
nestly, while the trath declared itself in every line
of her now pale face.

" Is this true, Coaina ?" he asked, sternly.

COAINA.

»>

" Our Blessed Mother is my witness that it is !"
she replied, making a gesture with her hand to-
wards the shrine. " Cyril, fearing the Great Spirit
whose eye sees all, I dare not He to thee, my be-
trothed.'

" Poison has touched my heart," he said, looking
down into the innocent and truthful face upHfted to
his. " To-morrow, Coaina, I will see you again in
the presence of your aunt, and if any have calum-
niated you, they shall answer to me for it." And
as he spoke, the troubled and gloomy expression of
Tar-ra-hee's eyes gave place to one more gentle
and tender.

" Thank you, my brother," she rephed, and was
about to leave him when Altontinon bustled into
the rustic vestibule, outside of which she had stood,
and not only watched them through the leaves, but
overheard all that passed, and said to Coaina in an
agitated tone :

" Hasten home, Coaina ; my child is iU. I fear
the Iroquois fever is upon her. I am going to Ma^
kee's lodge for herbs."

" I will go, aunt ; I hope Winonah is not ill of
the fever," she answered gently, while a dawning
smile once more gave serenity to her features.

" Yes, go /" thought this malicious woman ; " it

life fi ,

( . J

COAINA.

over

' you, although you seem to think the
sun is rising once more." Tar-ra-heo had re-en-
tered the chapel, and was ImeeUng before the altar
during this short conference; and when Coaiiia,
after a rapid walk, reached home, she found Wiuo-
nail apparently ill of a burning fever, moaning and
tossing on her pillow, as if in the greatest pain.
Had Coaina but turned down the coverhd, she
would have seen that Winonah was surrounded by
heated bricks, which almost consumed her, ai^d
produced all the effects of violent fever. But so
innocent and guileless was this saintly child of the
forest, that she never suspected any one of deceit
or wrong ; indeed, so full was her heart of a divine
charity, that she only thought of concealmg the
faults of others, even when she discovered them.

The most criminal of all lies are those which are
garnished here and there with the truth, making a
plausible an-ay of facts which can scarcely be con-
tradicted without making the truth suffer, by drag-
ging it through the mire of misrepresentation and
falsehood, into which maUce has plunged it. Never
suspecting the practical he before her, Coaina, iii
the simpHcity of her heart, set about making her
cousm comfortable. She gathered bahn leaves
from the garden and made her a refiresliing drink,

COAINA.

an.l bathed her head with cool water from the
spring ; she bound plantain leaves about her ^Tists
rnd darkened Uie lodge, after which she arrayed
everything neatly, and spread the table for the
serving n.eal. In her happiest moods she always
hked flowers about her, and now that her interview
with Tar-ra-hee gave her a promise of returning
tranquillity, she gathered a rich cluster from the
aster and chryssanthomun bushes, which cluster
around the doors and windows of the lodge, and
set them in the midst of the table it was quite
twilight by the time she completed her arrange-
ments. Winonah seemed to be sleeping, and Co-
aina went to the door to await the return of lior
aunt, Avhen a lad— she could not distinguish his
features— sprang over the stile and handed her a
folded scrap of paper, then ran off again mth the
greatest speed. It was so dark that she could not
distinguish a word of the writing which she per-
ceived was in it, so hurrying in, she stirred the em-
bers, and cast into the glowing coals a knot of
resinous pine, which quickly kindled, and threw out
a ruddy blaze which illuminated every part of the
room. Then opening the letter, she rer :1 :

"My child, t Dme to me directl^^ to f!,A hut just
beyond the pines, outside the Iroquois \-illage.

'■Ml

t
, I

K\M

i ■:

COAINA.

Two young girls are dying, and will be baptized if
you will come to them. Hasten. I'atheb Eti-

ENNE."

Without waiting a moment to consider, Coaina
stepped in to see if her cousin still slept, and find-
ing that she did, she wrapped her cloak about her
and went forth, as she thought, on an errand of
charity, at the bidding of her spiiitual guide ; but
mstead of that she was lured away, like a yoimg
gazelle, into the snare of the hunter, to suffer the
crowning effort of the malice of her enemies.

That night also, Tar-ra-hee received .a mysteri-
ous notification "to keep watch horn day-dawn
until sunrise," fi-om a cliff which was overhung hj
an uprooted hemlock tree, that projected over the
road leading to the Iroquois village, and command- *
ed a view of two or three miles extent. He was
told " to expect something which would unravel a
mystery, and open his eyes to the truth." Trou-
bled in heart, and full of but one thought, he de-
termined to go, hoping that the unraveUed mvstory
would be the full exculp^^tion of Coaina.

ll !

COAINA.

CHAPTER VI.

THE IROQUOIS LODGE.

CoAiNA had no difficulty in finding the lodge

designated in the letter. She paused a moment to

rest, having walked very rapidly, then hfted the

curtain of deer skins which hung over the en-
trance, and walked in ; but she found no one there

except an old woman, who feebly smoked her dirty

pipe as she crouched in a corner upon a bed of

bear skins.

"Where is Father Etienne?" asked Coaina,
gently.

But the old squaw was deaf, and only stared at
her with her bleared eyes. By and by a lad came
in, who, when he saw Coaina, started to mn out,
but she caught him by the arm, and asked: "Wliero
is Father Etienne ?"

"He says you must wait. He will come pre-
sently."

" It is good," she answered. " But who is ill ?"
" Hush-sh-sh !" said the old squaw, seeing that
they talked, and pointing towards the inner r^-

¥1

SI
.■'id

ifufllffl

COAINA.

cessos of the lodge, wliicli were cui'tained off with
sldns.

" Are they very ill ?" she asked the lad.
" Ugh !" replied the lad, shortly and sullenly, for
he had glanced at the old squaw in time to see her
sliaking her shrivelled fist towards him— a warning
which he knew from experience was not to be de-
spised ; then he slunk out of the lodge. Coaina,
thinking only of the object which led her there,
fwid nothing doubting but that Father Etienno
would come presently, took out her rosary, and,
hciduig it beneath her mantle, began the decade
of the five soiTowful mysteries ; offering her inten-
tion for the dying ones she had come to assist.
She drew back into an angle formed by ihc irregu-
lar wall of the lodge, and partially concealed by a
bark-covered cedar post wliidi helped to support
the roof, she closed her eyes, and was soon lost to
all her strange surroundings in her devout medita-
tions upon the august dolors of Mary. The sound
of muffled footsteps, and that soft, indescribable
rustle of garments, roused her attention, and think-
ing that Father Etienne had come, she unclosed
her eyes, but saw, instead of Father Etienne, a
crowd of dusky forms, whose hideously painted
faces and gaudy attire, whose keen, cunning eyoa

li ,

COAINA.

and gloaming liatclicts, filled her with pci-plexity
and alarm. Among them, in the centre of the
group, she recognized Alideek. According to the
wajs of her people, Coaina st^dom showed either
surprise or alarm, and now she calmly arose, and
stopping forward, asked once more: "Where is
"Father Etienne ?"

" He is not here, To-hic. This is a strange place
to seek him," he replied.

" He sent for me here. Here is his letter," said
Coaina, as a cold sensation thrilled through her
heart. Ahdeek took the letter, while a gleam of
triumph shot across his swarthy visage, pretended
to read it, then tore it into piec3s, and scattered
the fragments with a scornful laugh.

" So," said a leering old chief, " the Algonquin
cliristian can come to the lodge of the Iroquois
medicine man, to see Taho. What ivill the man of
prayer say ?"'

" I came here to see two Iroquois maidens bp'i-
+ized into the christian faith. Wliere are they ? I
will go to them," she repKed, .vdth an undaunted
look, as she attempted to pass the gi-oup of Indi-
ans, for the purpose of leaving the lodge. But
instantly a score of bright hatchets and knotty
clubs were lifted over her head. Startled and ter-

OOAINA.

rifled, but outwardly calm and bravo, slio folded
lior hands upon her breast, and looking full into
the grim faces which scowled around her, she
asked, in a clear and distinct tone : " By what right
do you hold me prisoner ?"

" By mij will !" said Ahdeek, and every one of
liis dusky sateUites responded "Ugh!" "You
have curled the lip in scorn of the chief of the Iro-
quois," Ahdeek wont on to say ; " he is strong, and
not to be driven off like a dog !"

" Have I ever harmed you, Ahdeek ? It is not
the part of a brave chief to make war against a
defenceless woman. Let me go free," said Coaina.
" Listen, Coaina. My lodge is empty. I have no
one there to hght the fire upon my hearth ; no one
to dress the skins that I take in hunting, or cook
my fish and venison. I need you. Be my wife.
You shall have all that the daughter and wife of a
great chief needs. You shall not toil. You shnll
have the softest furs of the stone-marten and fitch ;
your robes shall be decked with sables which I
will fetch from the dark Suaganay ; and your couch
shall be spread with the soft skins of the beaver.
You shall have the brightest beads, fringes of gold
and silver, stuffs with all the colors of the rainbow,
and plenty all the year round. Will you come to

COAINA.

my lod-^ Coaina?" Raid Aliciook, hoping to dazzle
her by his boastful proix.. ^es.

"No,.\lideek. No. I m already, in the sight
of heaven, the spous of Tar-ra-hee, the -i of
the Algonquins. Even were I not, I would not
come into the lodge of an uubr^-vor," rcpHed
Coaina, still standing bravely erect.

" The chief of the Algonquins would rather marry
my old grandmother there than you, Coaina. The
eagle will never mate with the carrion-crow. r-
ra-hee despises you. What will he say when ho
knows where you spent the night ?" asked Ahdeek,
with a mahcious gi-in.

"All, Alideek," wailed Coaina, as a full sense of
her peril broke upon her mind, while she stretched
out her hands towards him, " be generous, and let
me go hence in peace."

" You are my captive until the day dawns. You
shall have a new baptism, Coaina, then I wHl con-
duct you safely home. You are safe, To-hic, unless
you do yourself hurt ; only be quiet in the trap
into which you are snared," he said. He then gave
a brief order to the savages around to guard the
entrance to the lodge, while two kept watch on
each side of Coaina, watching her faintest move-
ment. There was no hope of escape, for this swar-

i.i

:iM

ir.

:liV\

'■■^ 1

' ♦'-^-

>*>,

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

k{0

"*^ A^

^/ /^^*..

:/.

■^

1.0

I.I

1.25

2.2
2.0

lA. il.6

1 IXUIUUiaUillLi

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

■^

iSS

:^>^ ' Q^

Pb^

k{0

""^ A^

<lf

^^,^

COAINA.

thy crowd was composed of those among the Iro-
quois who still rejected Christianity ; who beheved
in the traditionary fables of their people, the super-
stitious rites associated with their worship; who
had unlimited faith in the evil spirits of the water
and forest, in magic and omens ; who worshipped
corn as a deity, and adored lire ; who were unscru-
pulous in their morals, and beheved in no higher
law than obedience to their chief, and a due observ-
ance of their traditionary customs.

" Ahdeek," she said, in a solemn and impressive
tone, '' Alideek, you have betrayed me. You have
snared me like a simple cony of the forest ; but re-
member that my God is powerful — that He will
bring to nought your mckedness, and jnake you
fall into the pit you have dug for me."

" Let Him help you now, To-hic," said Alideek,
scornfully. " Now's the time !"
. " In His own good time will He dehver me. I
adore His will, and await His coming," she said,
clasping her hands together, and looking upwards
with a gaze so supernaturally bright that one
would have thought her sight penetrated far be-
yond the night, and beheld the face of the great
Dehverer of whom she spoke.

" She tallis of the gi'eat Manito," they whispored

COAINA.

around lier. « She has the heart of a warrior."

Coaina saw how futile were her hopes of escape,
and, with a sharp human pang, she resigned her-
self to the bitter necessity of her situation, while
she implored the protection of Almighty God, and
invoked the assistance of the Immaculate Mother.
She felt that, beside these, she had none else to fly
to. She knew that on the morrow she would be
scorned and cast out by her people, for who would
believe in hev innocence, in the face of such e^d-
dence, when her reputation was already tainted by
calumny? Her enemies had snared her, and
thrown over her innocence a garment of blackness
which no eye could penetrate save the sleepless
eye of the All-seeing ; wliich no glance of loving
compassion could fathom save hers— the Mother
of Jesus ; which aU would shxink from with scorn,
save the angels who were given charge over her.
In one sense we may exclaim: "Poor, forlorn
Coaina /" In another we may exclaim : " O,
maiden of divine predilection ! honored art thou in
thy sorrow and shame ! thy thorny giiefs are bud-
ding heavenly blossoms for the crown which is
wea\ing for thee in heaven !"

Thus resting in strong faith upon God's promises,
Coaina'y troubled heart grew more calm. The rich

III

i ;

flO

COAINA.

Ill

blood had forsaken her face, leaving it cold and
pale, and as she stood leaning against the cedar
post, she looked hke a statue carved out of stone,
so motionless and apparently breathless was she.

Suddenly a bright red gleam shot across her
closed -eyeR. When she opened them she saw a
pyramid of faggots heaped up in the middle of the
lodge, under which a fire had been kindled, and
now shot here and there, between the interstices of
the wood, red tongues of flame, which crept in and
out hke fiery serpents. Around this fire stood,
first in order, the childi'en and young people, and
behind them, those more advanced in life. In the
centre was the medicine man, in his grotesque
trappings, and hideously disguised.

At a signal from him, all raised their hands ; he
threw a piece of deer's fat into the flames, when
every one present cried out, in a measured and un-
earthly chant : " Taho ! Taho !" After this, a smaU
space was cleared by the medicine man, who now
produced a pouch in which there was a pipe and
powder, which he called potnl The pouch was
carried solemnly around the fire, all chanting
Taho ! Taho ! after wliicii the potu was taken from
the pouch, and distributed to all the men, who
smoked it, and fumigated their bodies Avith it as

COAINA.

with somethkg sacred. An Iroquois filled a pipe
with it, and lighting it by his own, handed it to
Coaina, who, by a quick movement of her hand,
dashed it to the ground and placed her foot upon
it, exclaiming : "In the name of Christ, I trample
on all idolatry !"

This enraged the Indians beyond expression,
and thej would immediately have done her vio-
lence for her contempt of a right which they held
sacred, had not Alideek interposed his authority,
which they, on the present occasion, suUenly
obeyed.

At length the dawn crept through the crevices of
the lodge, and ere long a deeper glow of r^rimson
heralded the rising of the sun ; then Ahdeek ap-
proached Coaina, and told her she was free to go.
She sprang from the lodge, like a wild doe from
the trap of the hunter, hoping to escape the attend-
ance of iJideek, with which he had threatened her,
and get back in time to be present at Mass ; but
he, watchful of every movement, was in an instant
by her side, and— weU named the Deer-easily kept
pace with her swift footsteps. Glorious was the
rismg of .the red and golden light out of darkness •
briUiantly fell the splendid rays upon the hoar-
frost, which glimmered like myriads of tiny crys-

COAINA.

tals on the grass and leaves ; joyfully dashed the
scarlet-crested woodpecker from tree to tree; a
low warbling echoed fitfully and sweetly among the
gorgeous foHage of the forest ; and here and there,
chattering over their forage, the grey squirrels,
with feathery tail erect, scampered up and down the
branches. Nature smiled, rejoicing over the birth
of this new day, which was so full of sorrow to the
young Indian maiden, now hastening homeward, all
heedless of the brightness around her, and com-
pelled to bear the presence of her enemy, who
kept close behind her, determined not to separate
himself from her until the eyes of all the village
had witnessed her shame. Suddenly an object
standing on the edge of a projecting rock, and half
hidden by an overhanging hemlock tree, arrested
Coaina's attention ; she shaded her eyes with her
hand, and looked intently for an instant, then,
uttering a low cry, she stretched her arms towards
it, but it disappeared in the shadow of the forest,
flitting away Hke a mist before her eyes. Then she
fell fainting to the ground. It was Tar-ra-hee !

Altontinon had sought him the evening before, and
told him, with protestations of reluctance, and had
even shed tears, that the Iroquois held that night
the festival of Taho ; that she had good reason fcJf

COAINA.

knowing that certain of their people would be
present, and advised him, as chief of his tribe, to
watch and see if any baptized Algonquin attended
it secretly-then she hinted at her hidden griefs
about Coaina, darkly intimating things which she
declared she dared not disclose. This intemew
following so close upon the mysterious biUet he
had received, aroused in Tar-ra-hee's mind the
most suspicious vigilance. He could not sleep, but
long before da^vn took his station upon the over-
hanging rock we have described, and there waiting
patiently, with a dull, heavy misgiving at his heart,
he at last saw Coaina emerge from the Iroquois'
lodge, attended by Alideek. It needed no more to
convince him that Coaina was not only false to
him, but that she had lived a most hypocritical
life, and was unworthy of p. regret. He was a
christian— he would not, therefore, revenge himself
pon the Iroquois by taking his life ; he would
formally and publicly annul his betrothal to
Coaina, and, leaving her to the punishment her
crime deserved, go away from the tribe, to hunt
along the shores of the dark Sauganay.

This was the conclusion which, after long and
silent cogitations, he arrived at ; then he sought
Father Etienne, and laid bare his heart before him;

COAINA.

after which he privately consulted with the chieJ
men of his people, and notified them to meet in
solemn assembly the next day.

Pause an instant, reader, whether young or old,
and reflect on the evils of malice, slander and rash
judgment. "We have seen how innocent Coaina
was, how truly pious and unblemished was her life
before heaven ; and yet we behold her clothed with
depravity as with a garment, a despised and re-
jected outcast ; wearing all the appearance of guilt
and hypocrisy, through the pride, malice, ambitim
and envy of others, who, still esteemed and honored,
triumphed for a season in their wickedness. And
remember, friend, this is no fiction I Coaina actually
lived and suffered as our feeble pen describes, and
to this day the young girls of " the Lake of the
Two Mountains" will lead the stranger to her
grave, and with fast-falling tears relate, as they
twine wild flowers around her place of rest, her
moximful story.

COAINA.

CHAPTER Vn.

LIKE A SHEEP BEFORE HER SHEARERS, SHE WAS

DUMB.

When Coaina saw Tar-ra-hee watching from tho
crag, and knew that he must have seen her leave the
Iroquois lodge followed by Ahdeek, she felt as if
some one had given her a heavy blow on her head ;
she staggered and grew faint and dizzy ; then every-
thing like brightness faded out of the air, and she
fell to the earth, bereft of consciousness. Ahdeek
stood, for a moment, perplexed and irresolute, but
an idea suddenly presented itself which not only
solved the difficulty of his position, but turned the
accident to account ; so, lifting the light and insen-
sible form of Coaina in his strong arms, he sped
swiftly to the village of the Algonquins, passing
each wondeiing group he met without speaking
until he reached the lodge^of Altontinon, who met
him at the door with her hair disheveUed and hei
face disfigured with weeping, surrounded by three
or four of her relatives, who all pressed silentlvbut

COAINA.

eagerly forward to look upon tho pallid face lying
so helplessly upon the shoulder of the Iroquois.

She had alarmed the whole village, the night be-
fore, by reporting Coaina's disappearance, profess-
ing all the time, tho greatest grief and uneasiness
about her, even while she secretly exulted in tho
certainty that she had fallen into the snare spread
for her by her maHcious arts. Now, when she saw
Coaina brought to her door dead, as she thought,
her pretended grief was changed to genuine alarm,
and wringmg her hands, she uttered the mournful
and pecuHar cry called by the Indians wakonowen,
prolonging its shrill cadences until the whole air
echoed with its sad notes, and one after another,
within range of its sound, hurried hither, until quite
a crowd had collected in and around the lodge.

" She is not dead," said Ahdeek, laying his light
burden down upon a pile of skins and furs hastily
thrown together by Winonah and some of the wo-
men. " She is not dead," he continued, as Altonti-
non paused in her lamentations to take breath,
while every ear was strained to catch all that he
liad to say, " but the Taho was too much for her.''

" The Taho r screamed a woman, drawing her
two little girls close to her. "Was Coaina — the

■li

COAINA.

1)7

Lng

child of our Blessed Mother— the Eose of our
tribe there T .

" Esa ! esa ! and she the head of the Confrater-
nity of the Rosary !" exclaimed another.

" And to think ice were always taught to try and
bo like Aer," added a young girl.

"/almost felt afraid to touch the hem of her
garment!" said Winonah.

"Oh, the detestable hypocrite!" said an old
squaw, wagging her head.

" To think how we all loved her !" said a young
girl, sadly.

" Think of her deceiving Father Etienne and our
young chief ! It is good she was caught in time !"
said a grave lookmg woman, who had not yet
spoken.

Old Ma-kee now edged his way feebly through
the crowd, and stood looking down on the still, pit-
eous face of Coaina. The muscles in his old with-
ered cheeks worked, and a wonderfully tender and
sorrowful look came over the usual fierce expres-
sion of his eyes. He stooped down and smoothed
her small dusky hand, and laid his own shrunken,
tawny hand lightly upon her forehead. Then he
stood up and said : " To-Uc has done no evil. I

!li

CO.VINA.

Baw a wliito kitl stung to doatli by a mocoasiii : /
killed tho siiako. I wasyouug then ; now I am old,
but my arm ia not too withered to strike down tlio
snake that stung To-hic. Where is the Irocjuois ?"
There was a fierce, deathly gleam in the old pagan's
eye as he looked around the circle of dusky faces
who wore watching him ; they moved back, for as
he moved his arm it lifted his blanket, and they
saw that he wore a long, bright knife in his girdle,
and a hatchet, keenly sharpened. But Ahdeek had
long since sHpped away, and was heard of, wtieks
afterwards, Inmting in the forests of Maine A
grim look of contempt stole over Ma-kee's foatures,
then he turned to Altontinon and said: "The
snows of nearly eighty winters have brought me
wisdom. I see what I see and know what I know.
T found a young pigeon once iu the forest, with its
wing broken. I put it into a nest of young crows,
and watched. The old mother crow came home
and tore the pigeon to pieces to feed her own
young." Then he marched off, well satisfied that
he had struck no chance blow at Altontinon.

"It's no wonder old Ma-kee hkes her," said
Winonah, " since she goes to the Taho, and is a
pagan like himself. But seel Coaina opens
her eyes !" she cried, gazing do^vn with gratified

§n

OOAINA.

caocs

malico on tlio mournful and beautiful face of her

COUHJU.

"Go for Father Etionno, Winonah. FrienclH,
stand hiu^k, and give the unfortunate one air and
water. She niuHt not poriHli in her wickodneRS.
Oh, to think, aftiu- all my care— oh ! oh ! oh !"—
cried Altontinon, (luitc ovorconui, or rather pretend-
ing to be 8o.

Every one Winonah met on her way to Father
Etienne's. she told the news that Coaina had
" spent the night in the medicine lodge of the Iro-
quois, and assisted at their superstitious rites. She
went with Ahdeek, and eveiybody knew Ahdeek ;
yes, she was at the Taho, and everybody knew
what that was."

" So," thought some, " wo have been deceived."
But most of those who heard the strange and
dreadful news were shocked and bewildered. If
that bright and glorious star, worshipped with di-
•vine honors by their fathers in the primitive days,
and still regarded by the Indians as the most splen-
didly beauteous of all that spangle the blue robes
of heaven, had fallen a black and shapeless mass
at their feet, they coidd not have been more amazed
than at the fall of Coaina, in whom they had never
seen speck or flaw, and who was, after the Blessed

I • ■. ..

100

COAINA.

l;.f.

Virgm, the purest model of womanly and christian
virtues they knev/ on earth. So blithe, so modest,
so amiable towards all ; " who," they wondered,
" could ever feel envy or bitterness for Coaina ?
What enemies had she to plan such slanders ? none.
Then, alas ! it must be true !" Alack-a-day ! the
evil days had indeed come for the young Algonquin
maid, since even her best and dearest friends and
kinsmen were deceiyed. There was none to help
her on earth. Only the Great Spirit and His Im-
maculate Mother knew the innocence of that soul,
which was to suffer such ^-een sorrows, holding it
in a diviro sanctuary; the powers of earth might
crucify her flesh, but never pluck down or wither r
single blossom of her crown ; for there she was eter-
nally safe. But having formed her life on theirs,
she must di-ink, with resignation, of their bitter
chalice— be, like Mary, suspected of evil, and, Hke
Jesus, be reviled and caat out by her own people.

And the good Father Etienne— he was but hu-
man ! There was no supernatural power to tell
biiu that all this condemnatory, circumstantial evi-
dence against Coaina was utterly false. He was
speechless when Tai-ra-hee told him T?hat he had
witnessed with his own eyes. It seemed like the
culminating proof of all else that had been whis-

COAINA.

101

pered against her. When left alone, the good
priest, with a sharp pang at heart, entered tho
sanctuary to mourn, in silence, over the fall of this
child of many graces, who had not only given such
scandal to religion, and humihated christians, but
had afforded a new triumph to the heathen and rai-
beHevers, and to pray for guidance in conducting
the trial on the morrow. Winonah waited long to
see him, and when he, at length, left the chapel,
she dehvered her errand. Without speaking, he
turned and walked quietly to Altontinon's lodge,
which was, by tliis ume, crowded with the friends
and kinsmen of Altontinou and Tar-ra-hee, sitting
or standing, in grave and boding silence, around
the apartment, while in the midst, seated upon a
rude bench was Coaina, sHent, palHd and drooping,
her long, graceful hands folded together on her
knees, while her attke, usually trim and neat, was
damp and disarranged, and her long, rich tresses
fell carelesi^'ly over her shoulders to the earthen
floor. There she sat, like Job, accused of a hun-
dred sins of which she was guiltless. There she
sat, like her liord in the hall of Pilate, awaiting the
judgment of an extreme penalty "or the crimes of
others. Way was made for Father Etienne who,
to the surprise of all, was followed by Tar-ra-hee,

lil!|.!l

»„

102

COAINA.

stem, grave and decorous, his rich blanket falling
in graceful folds from his shoulders, and wearing
no ornament except a large silver medal of the
Blessed Virgin.

Coaina looked up when she saw the skii-t of Fa-
ther Etienne's soutane, with a gleam of hope in her
eyes ; but when she saw his stem countenance and
averted eyes, and just behind liim the grave and
clouded face of Tar-ra-hee, over which gleamed not
a single ray of pity, a vivid crimson dyed her face,
neck and hands ; her eyehds, heavy with their long,
dusky lashes, drooped upon her cheeks, and her lips,
now suddenly grown palHd, quivered with agony.

" Coaina," said Father Etienne, " stand up and
speak the trath when I question you. For the
sake of your own soul and rehgion, I adjure you,
in the sacred names of Jesus and Mary, to speak
the truth, and nothing but the truth."

" I will, my father," she answered, in a low, dis-
tinct tone, as she arose.

" Where did you spend the night ?" .

" In the medicine lodge of the Iroquois."

" Wliat did you see there ?"

"I saw the Taho."

" Were you taken to the medicine lodge by vio-
lence ?"

COAINA.

1 -^

((

"No, my father," she said, looking up with a be-
wildered expression.
" Who did you see there you knew?"
" Only Ahdeek, my father."
" Why did you go there, Coaina ?"

I got a letter from you teUing me to come."
Here every dusky face leaned forward, and Fa-
ther Etienne knitted his brows, while his face ex-
hibited the strongest emotion.

" That is false, unfortunate child ! It is also a
slander," he said sternly. " Where is that letter ?"
" I have it not, my father. Ahdeek tore it up."
" What did it say ?" asked Father Etienne.
" It said, ' two girls of the Iroquois are dying,
and wiU not be baptized until you come. Come
quickly to the lodge beyond the pines outside the
Iroquois viUage. That is what I remember. Your
name, my father, was to it. I thought I obeyed
you. After I got there I saw that I was entrapped,
but I could not escape."

" That is a weU got up stoiy, Coaina ; shame
upon you!" said Altontinon, stepping foi-ward.
" No letter came to her, my father. Winonah says
that none came. Winonab was sick, and I left Co-
aina to nurse her ; but she left her and went away
without saying where. It is Uke the mantle Ah-

104

COAINA.

b;I

deek gave her. Ahdeek has been Coaina's lover
since she was a child."

" Did Ahdeek give you that mantle, Coaina ?"
asked Father Etienne.

" I was told that— that— Tar-ra-hee had left it
for me," she replied, gently.

" Oh, the bold one !" exclaimed her aunt. " I
told her before Winonah that Ahdeek had brought
her the mantle — she knows I did. And now 1
must speak. Coaina is not honest. She is not
true. She steals my money, and sends it to
Montreal to buy finery. She has told me many
lies. My life has been worn out with her, and try-
ing to hide her faults. Her ingratitude and hypoc-
risy I could bear, but I dared not let her carry dis-
honor into the lodge of Tar-ra-hee."

"There are calumnies," says a modern writer,
" so great as to confuse innocence itself." Thus it
was with poor Coaina. She saw that the evidence
against her was strong, without being true. Events
had encompassed her like a net, and confirmed all
the slanders of her enemies. Everything mads her
appear more guilty ; there was no witness to dis-
prove the charges, and benumbed in her still
anguish, she said not a word, but, " lilce a sheep
before her shearers, she was dumb."

■

i\ ll

COAINA.

105

" Miserable cliilcl," said Father Etienne, break-
ing the breathless silence, while tears rolled un-
bidden over his aged cheeks. " There is nothing
left for you but penance for 3'our vices and crimes.
You have brought great scandal on religion, you
have wounded charity, you have been guilty of
base ingratitude, joii have outraged decency, and,
to crown your sins, you have renewed the bitter
Passion of Jesus Christ, and pierced with a sword
of grief the heart of His tender Mother. I cannot
pronounce youi' sentence until the assembly investi-
gate your case and consult upon it. I came here
hoping to find you innocent ; I go away believing
you guilty. Go to your room, and remain there
until your people decide upon your punishment,
and may Almighty God biing you to repentance."

Coaina arose, folded her hands upon her bosom,
and bowed in token of obedience, then walked
tremblingly away to the curtained corner of the
lodge called hers. Lifting the cuLrtain, she disap-
peared from the eyes of her traducers and enemies,
and falling prostrate upon the floor, her soul sent
up its strong appeal unto Him avIio alone knew
her innocence ; to Him who would never turn
away from her, and on whose strong arm she could
lean on this her day of tribulation ; to Hitu in

ill I,

h '.

106

COAINA.

whom sl>ts would trust, even though He might slay
her. But the passion of her grief was bitter. She
was only human, and this casting of her out, this
rending of the ties which had so long bound her to
her friends, her director, her kinsmen, was terrible
to bear, and gave separate and fierce wounds to
her natural life, as each one was parted asunder. "
The cross was heavy to-day, but on the morrow
it would become almost insupportable, while the
clouds hangmg gloomily above her would gather
more darkly around her way.

CHAPTER Vin.

coaina's sentence.

To DESCRIBE the judicial proceedings of the as-
sembly in Coaina's case would stretch my narra-
tive to a wearisome length ; therefore, I will simply
relate that, after due dehberation and a careful
examination of the apparent facts of the case, those
facts which, according to the judgment of all con-
cerned, were mcontestibly proved by credible wit-
nesses, a verdict way rer lered, and sentence pro-
nounced on the beautiful and innocent Rose o/ the

;

■■t ■ ■

COAINA.

107

Algonquins. Here I will quote from Monsigneur
De C 's statement.

Coaina was sentenced :

"•First. To live alone in a hut adjoining her
aunt's lodge.

"Second. To perform such servile offices for her
as might be needed.

" Third. To seek and encourage no intercourse
with the young people of the mission.

"Fourth. To wear the garb of a pubHc penitent.

"Fifth. To have her hair cut close, and wear a
coarse veil.

"Sixth (and the most terrible of all to her). She
was to be deprived of the sacraments, and was for-
bidden to enter the chapel, but was to kneel in her
penitential dre?s at- the door, during the celebra^
tion of all the sacred rites, offices and ceremonies
of the Church, with the title of hypocrite printed in
large letters and suspended upon her breast."
• On the same day she was invested in her robes
of humihation. Crowned with ignominy, she knelt
at the door of that chapel of which she was the
angel, receiving, instead of homage, the cold sneers,
the cruel wbisp(3rs, the ,open condemnation, the
mockery and scorn of all who passed her by.

Let us pciuse here an instant, to discriminatfi

ill

':i

' i!

108

COAINA.

between the malice and h>'pocrisy of Coaina's ene-
mies who hmw her innocence, and the mistaken
conviction of those of her former fiiends who be-
Hevcd her guilty. For the first there is no excuse ;
thej dehberately and maliciously planned the deso-
lation and ruin of that young life ; they made it
appear that a gi'eat and public scandal had been
committed, and so pei-jured themselves as to de-
ceive not only the good Father Etienne, but also
the sincere christians of his flock, who thought her
punishment, when measured by her apparent guilt,
was not too heavy. The ill opinion of the wicked
is without a sting ; but when the good, the charita-
ble and just, deceived by false reports, or other-
wise, array themselves against one, then indeed au
indescribale bitterness is added to the cup of woe,
and the soul cries out, in the darkness and desola-
tion of its abandomnent : " My God! why hast
Thou forsaken me ?" All of Coaina's former friends
and admirers could now only regard her as a hypo-
crite, who had long and speciously deceived them ;
so, full of horror at the reflection of her sacrilegious
life, they shrunk from her as from a pestilence, and
publicly resented the dishonor and scandal she had
brought upon religion. And yet these were inno-
cent before heaven, through the blindness of human

COAINA.

109

judgment ; the originators of the monstrous ^n•ong
were alone responsible for aU the evil and all the
scandal that had grown out of their selfish pride
and malice. Old Ma-kee, who was a heathen, you
know, caring neither for God or man, paid no heed
to the interdict, and had no feehng except that of
indignation at the humiliation of the only thing
upon earth that he loved, and he resented it by
disoT^Tiing his peoi:)le, as they had disowned her.
It was he who gathered the wild forest flowers and
brought them to her hut, or laid them beside her
as she knelt at the chapel door ; it was he whose
harsh old quavering voice fell in accents of Idndness
upon her ear ; he who, more than once, had given
such sudden and wejl-aimed blows at the urcliins
who taunted and mocked her that they fell stunned
and sprawhng upon the grass. To Altontinon and
"Winonah he had become an incubus and teiTor.
They cowered beneath the fierce gleam of the old
pagan's eye, and would rather have heard the most
deafening thunder that ever sped its bolt mto the
depths of the forest, than to hear old Ma-kee's
bitter whisper of " Snakes ! snakes ! snakes !" his-sed
in their ear as they passed-by.

Deeply touched by the old Indi m's constant
affection, Coaina prayed incessantly for his conver-

110

COAINA.

flion, and also for that of her aunt and cousin, as
well as of aU others who had injured her. In fact,
she, who had been cast out as unworthy by jior
people, was now their pleading angel, who forgot
her ^Tongs in the exercise of a divine charity.

Father Etieune sorrowed and prayed for the
poor penitent, wlio bore her cross with such sweet-
ness and patience ; he had at times a suspicion
that she was the innocent victim of a base plot ;
but the mystery— if there was one— was too deep
for him to fathom, and the scandal had been too
pubhc to go unpunished. And so the time passed
until the next moon, when the Indians departed
-with their families and household effects, in their
birchen canoes, for the distant .northwest, where,
surrounded by incredible hardships, they hunted
the bison and the deer, the otter and the mink, the
beaver and the bear, and other smaller game.
Coaina accompanied them, still as a pubHc peni-
tent, and the servant of her aunt, the change bring-
ing naught to her except greater hardships, wliich
she bore without murmuring.

And so three years passed by. The mystery
was still unsolved, and Coaina still wore her peni-
tential garb, was still interdicted an approach to

OOAINA.

Ill

the sacraments, was still a by-word aud reproach
among her people. The only event of any import-
ance in prospect, was the reported mamage of
Tar-ra-hee and Winonah, for which it was said,
preparations were being made. Alideek never re-
appeared among his people. It was rumored that
in crossing the St. Lawrence in liis canoe, it had
been drawn into the whirl of the rapids, and dashed
over the great falls into the foaming abyss below.
An Indian certainly perished there about that
time, within sight of thousands of spectators, and
as he never returaed or was heard of again, the
inference was accepted that the unfortunate wretch
was Ahdeek.

Again came the month of the falling leaves, and
once more the mission was in a grand commotion,
preparing for the annual migration to the distant
hunting grounds, two thousand miles off. Father
Etienne, as usual, was to accompany them. Another
priest, a young and saintly missionary, who had
fled from the endearments of noble kindred and
home in his dear land of France ; who had turned
his back upon honors and all the charms of civiHza-
tion, to labor among the heathen tribes of the far
west— asked and gained permissi i to join com-

112

COAINA.

pany ^nth thorn, an inciJeut which was a great
solace to Father Etionne, who was growing old.
(Monsigncur Do C.)

On a certain day they all embarked in their frail
canoes, to start on their joerilous voyage to the
westoni plains. At certain places, to avoid the
swecphig rapids, the terrific rocks and falls, they
leave the river, carrying their canoes and baggage
past the dangerous spots, when they again launch
their frail vessels, and embark.

Bearing the same hardships and dangers as
themselves. Father Etienne cheered and encour-
aged tliom as much by his counsel as his example,
performing the offices of priest and comforter with
tireless zeal, sometimes celebrating the holy mys-
tciies on the bosom of some broad, calm river, with
the picturesque fleet dra^vn up in perfect order
around the floating altar, the paddles at rest, and
gay pennons flying, wliile every dusky face and
form in the gentle rocking canoes was bent with
reverent and adoring attention towards the " canoe
of prayer and sacrifice." These were occasions of
deep and unutterable joy to our poor penitent, who,
sometimes near, and sometimes farther off, in her
aunt's canoe, witnessed the sacred mystery. Some-
times Mass was celebrated r;-der the flame-colored

I li

\ groat
ng old.

eir frail
to the
Did the
Is, thoy
laggage
launch

^ers as
encoiir-
sample,
ier ■with
ly mys-
er, -with
t order
3st, and
Lce and
nt witli
" canoo
sions of
at, who,
, in her
Some-
colored

COAINA.

113

branch OS of the primeval forest ; sometimes on the
mountain side ; sometimes upon a desolate shore.
But it was the groat refreshment and consolation
of this weary nomadic people, when and wherever
celebrated. The place was nothing to them— the
sacrament everything.

One sad incident occurred. The canoe in which
the young Fi. m. h missionary, with four Abnaki
Indians, were making the voyage, one day got far
ahead of the mission flotilla, which proceeded
slowly, on account of the dangerous rapids, whose
cun-ent was powerfully felt long before they were
seen ; nor could all the signals which were made
for fhem to return induce them to do so— probably
they were misunderstood as cheering signals for
them to proceed in the race they had won so far in
advance. Suddenly the canoe was drawn into the
mighty current, and whirled like a dead leaf
amongst the foaming, shrieking waters ; now lost
to sight amid cataracts of spray, now tossed like a
fi^atlier on the gale, high upon the surface, with
^iv. ii.man beings clinging hopelessly to its sides.
Then, in the twinkling of an eye, it was engulphed
forever ; the young missionary received the reward
of eternal life for the mortal life he had so gener-
ously and nobly given to God's sei-vioe.

ii!

I!li,

il''
W

114

COAINA.

At length, having arrived at the place best suited
for their purposes, and most convenient for hunt-
ing, the Indians disembarked, and each family
selecting a site, erected a wigwam of boughs,
wliich they covered with skins sewed together. In
a short time the business of the winter begins ; the
men, and women also, hunt and fish continually,
living upon the animals they kill; dressing the
skins, and preserving with great care the costly
furs, which they sell readily in Montreal for high
prices, and to traders from the United States. In
this hunting expedition no one was more expert or
successful than Coaina in securing much costly
game. Her aim was unerring, and when she drew
the string of her bow her arrow sped hke lightning
into a vital part of the animal, without tearing the
fur. Swans, wild turkeys, an eagle, and small
game of every kind, loaded her aunt's wigwam,
who, .with Wmonah, prepared the peltry for the
markets, sheltered from cold, and enduring no real
hardships. But still they found no kind word for
the patient Coaina. Injurious epithets, blows,
scanty fare, and hardships of every kind were her
reward. What incited them to gTeater mahgnity,
was the fact that Tar-ra-hee had left his people, at
the mouth of the Sauganay, to spend the winter

OOAINA.

115

sst suited
or liunt-
i family
boughs,
her. In
ins; the
tinually,
ing the
e costly
for high
tes. In
Xpert or
I costly
he drew
ghtning
•ing the
I small
/igwam,
for the
no real
ord for

blows,
ere her
dignity,
oiDle, at

winter

with some of his braves on its bleak shores, to hunt
the white bear, the seal and the beaver, and for
tljis disappointment they wreaked their spite on
Coaina, whose heart, sore, and almost breaking
under the torture of her undeserved ill-usage, clung
tremblingly and closer to Jesus and Mary, fearful
that after all she should lose patience and forfeit
her only good. But nothing touched the hearts of
these evil-minded, o})durate women ; her very pa-
tience and defencelessness, so far from appealing
to their generosity and forbearance, seemed to ex-
cite them to greater cruelty and mahce. No one
observed it, but Coaina's cheek had lost its beau-
tiful roundness of outhne ; her step, still swift and
agile, was often checked by shortness of breath,
and wild, painful heart-throbs. The rich blood no
longer glo^\ od in transparent suffusion through her
amber-colored skin, and delicately chiseled hpa ;
there was a spot of crimson upon each tliin check,
Hke the first reddening flame which consumes the
life of the mapio leaf in autumn. Her (yes — ;.ow
seldon'i lifted — sparkled with a strange glow be-
neath her heavy eye-lids, and when suddenly raised
by some one speaking to her, or in surprise at some
distant sound, they looked like those of a hu ited
giizello, , Outcast and despised, her commu- higa

116

OOAINA.

liad long ceased to be of this life, or of its smal.
aifairs. The world had thrown her oft* as mor«
worthless than the refuse of a dung-liill ; but could
the veil have been, but one moment, withdrawn,
could mortal eyes have, but for one instant, beheld
the "glorious ones in shining raiment" who sur-
rounded her, who enfolded her within the embraces
of their stainless wings, guarding her soul's integ-
rity as a precious and priceless jewel, they would
have fallen, upon their faces before her, invokuig
her forgiveness and prayers.

But neither to her or them was such sight
vouchsafed. The designs of God must ripen ac-
cording to His wisdom, and for Coaina the con-
summation was near at hand.

OOAINA.

117

ks smal.
IS more,
it could
idrawn^
beheld
ho sur-
obraces
s uiteg-
r would
ivokmg

1 sight
pen ac-
le con-

CHAPTEB IX.

_ THE TWO SHADOWS.

The season of leaves and flowers had agam rolled
round ; the bluebird wliistled in the air, and the
bobolink sounded his low bugle as he raided with
his bro^vn troopers througli the feathery ferns.
Everything wore a gay and prosperous look in the
village of the lake. The hunting season had been
extremely successful, not only in the quantity of
game secured, but in the quality and abundance of
rare furs, skins, and other valuable peltries they
were enabled to bring home. Better still, the price
of peltries had gone up considerably higher than
\^^s ever known before, owing to an increased de-
mand from the United States and England, which
was really in excess of the supply ; hence our Indi-
ans of the mission found themselves richer than
they liad ever been before. On Sundays and holi-
days the church looked like a tropical 'parterre,
with the array of rich, bright colors hi the attii'e of
the women, whose new variegated handkerchiefs,

I ill

;si!|!

I ! '

I 1

Mi|l.

lis

COAINA.

blue scarfs, scarlet petticoats, spangled jackets and
fringed tunics, were in harmonious keeping "vvitli
the magnificent hunting shirts — decorated with
beads and fringes — of the men, who displayed new
scarlet leggings, wrought curiously with porcupine
quills, and moccasins flaming with scarlet, with
glittering beads and tinsel. Altontinon and Wino-
nah held their heads higher than ever, while the
extreme gaudiness of their apparel, extravagant
both in texture and style, attracted every eye.
While the other women and young girls observed
a fitting degree of moderation and modesty in their
attire, these two flaunted about arrayed in the
gaudiest colors, the flasliiest trinkets, the heaviest
coils of beads, and the most exaggerated style of
garments that the wildest Indian fancy could sug-
gest, or the markets of Montreal supply.

A great improvement w.ns also evident in the
increased comforts of their rude lodges, in the
richer adornment of their beloved chapel, and the
quality and quantity of their agricultural imple-
ments ; indeed, the village of the " Lake of the Two
Mountains" seemed like the centre of a happy
pastoral Arcadia, into which no grief could en\;er.

In the midst of all this gay prosperity and cheer-
ful plenty, there was (?ver moving to and fro, o-*

COAINA.

119

kneeling with bowed head at the chapel door, a
silent, shadowy form, clothed in coarse, penitential
garments of grey. This shadowy, veiled figure
was never noticed, except to be jostled aside and
scoffed at as it ghded through the mission grounds.
And it moved Hke one walking m a dream. If she
was jostled rudely, or called out to roughly, or had
her veil or garments plucked at by the village
urchms, she would suddenly Hft her great soft eyes,
and with a bright, wild glance around, as if she
had been startled from solemn reverie, deep within
her inner life, smile sorrowfully, look down again,
and move on.

There was this shadow, which the Algonquins
saw daily ; a shadow for whose presence they had
only contempt, or a silent indifference— the shadow
of a crushed life, the summing up of all that slan-
der could do.

But there was another shadow coming towards
them, slowly and inevitably, the very thought of
which made the bravest heart among them quail.
This shadow had ah-eady reached Montreal, and
they even now felt the vibrations of its noiseless
but mighty tread, already felt the cold thriU of its
viewless form. They couid not keep it away;
neither bamers nor aU the engmeering that science

11'

l!i I

lilli
.1*'

120

COAINA.

has ever taught — neither tlie bravery of warriors,
the exorcism of priests, nor the tears and prayers
of a people, could stay its course, because it was
the stern messenger of the Most High, whose mis-
sion it was to chasten, to pimish and remind the
world of the judgment to come. It was the cholera!
and as it strode towards them, while every face
wore an anxious, a sad or thoughtful expression, the
face of the other shadow which was clothed in the
robes of penance grew more serene and bright, as
if that which brought such terror to all, only came
a messenger of hope to her. And so it was. '=If
it were only the Great Spirit's sAveet will," she
thought, " it will bring one deliverance and rest ;
but His will, not mine, be done !"
- One da} — it was a bright and glorious morning,
just such a one as that on which the malignant
plans laid for Coaina's ruin seemed crowned with
success — there suddenly arose from AltontinonV
lodge, shrill, piercing cries of pain, blended with
the mournful walwnoiuin. The shadow had come !
it had entered Altontinon's lodge, and stricken her
down even while she exulted in her health, her
wickedness and her prosperity. Messengers ran
here and there for assistance. Father Etienne was

OOAINA.

121

soon beside lier writhing, tortured form, but her
kinsmen and people stood aloof, cowering outside
the lodge, their hearts quailing within them as her
shrieks of agony rent the air. "While she wrestled
for life with this awful shadow, the shadow in the
garments of penance ministered to her needs. It
was Coaina (obeying the directions of Father
Etienne) who applied the hot poultices, who ad-
ministered the fiery draughts which were thought
efficacious, and which loere marvellously so in ordi-
nary cases; it was she who performed the most
repulsive offices for the agonized woman, who wept
over her, who clung to her cramped hands, who
kissed her cold feet, and prayed without ceasing
for her. None else would come near or touch her.
Winonah, trembhng and palhd, crouched in a dis-
tant corner, her head bowed upon her knees, inca-
pable of performing the sHghtest duty. Suddenly
Altontinon cried out : " I wronged her ! I ruined
'her ! She is innocent of all ! Coaina, forgive me !
forgive me ! You are an angel ! I am a devil !
O, pray for me to the Holy Mother! Do not let
me be cast into hell ! O, save me from the flames !
Hold me fast, Coaina! ' O, Christ, forgive me I
Coaina, forgive me !"

i2s;

OOAINA.

"I forgive thee, my aunt, as I hope Christ will
forgive me," she answered, kissing tlio blue, trem-
bling lips of the dying sinner.

" Father Etienne, hear me ! hear me ! I will
confess " but here ensued such a mortal strug-
gle that she was unable to continue. Her head
was drawn roimd, her features, pmchcd and blue,
were distorted with agony, and her arms and legs,
drawn away, were knotted in muscular distortions
fearful to behold. Father Etienne, startled by her
confession of guilt, feared that the last agony was
upon her, and knelt to pray for her departing soul.
Coaina, also praying, bathed her feet with her
tears. But the paroxysm subsided, and an interval
of comparative ease ensued — of ease which was but
the forerunner of that rest from suffering which the
tortured body would soon enjoy.

" Call my child— call my kindred around me,"
said Altontinon, in feeble tones. " Quick, tell them
to come, I have many words to say before them."

Father Etienne said: "Tour confession first;
your confession ; then, what time you have left,
say all that you wish."

" It is my confession. I must confess in public
the evil I did in secret. O, my father, call them
quickly, or I die !" plead Altontinon.

COAINA.

123

' Father Etieiino did as she desired, but it was
only by the most urgent entreaties that ho c( uld
get Winonah and the rest to approach the dying
woman, whose shrunken features and paUid skin,
which already hung loose and wrinkled from her
bones, were dripping with the cold dews of disso-
lution, while the blue, ghastly shadow threw its
cadaverous hue over it all. The group of her kins-
men and friends who entered stood some distance
o&, looking with dread at her changed appear-
ance.

" Now," she said, " listen to my words, for this
is my last confession. I mined her by my malice,"
she contini*ed, pointing her shrunken and almost
powerless hand to Coaina ; " because I wanted my
own child to be the wife of Tar-ra-hee. I held
counsel with Ahdeek, the Iroquois, who brought
the robe, and I mo<.ie up the story that Tar-ra-hee
had left it for \uk vdd wished her to wear it

to meet him on ii re. / wrote the letter

that beguiled her to tne medicine lodge ! I set
Tar-ra-hee to watch her ! I arranged the whole
plot to expose her ! I persuaded my kinsmen to
circulate evil reports about her ! I made my own
child lie, and make oath to her lie, that Coaina was
a thief ! / did it ! Coaina is guiltless ! No bay)-

i li

ii .'I

124

COAINA.

tized babe could be purer ! O, Coaina ! can you
forgive me 1"

" My child," said Father Eticnne, tears flowing
orer his cheeks, as he approached and knelt before
Coaina, " my child, can you forgive us all ?"

" O, my father !" cried Coaina, covered with con-
fusion, as she knelt, and lifting the hem of his
soutane, pressed it to her lips, " this is too mucli."

" Say, my chHd, that you forgive us," said Father
Etienne.

" O, my father ! yes, yes ! ten thousand, thou-
sand times— but' no ! what have I to forgive ? O,
my aunt ! if you knew the peace and consolation
that sufferings have brought me, you would rejoice,
and be glad I" exclaimed Coaina, while her counte-
nance shone with a divine peace. There was no
exultation to mar its serenity, or cloud the tender
pity of her eyes, now restmg upon the face of
Altontinon.

"O, my father, darkness gathers around me,"
said Altontinon, in a low, solemn voice. " Coaina,
do you forgive me ?"

" As I hope Christ to forgive me, so do I forgive
you with all my heart and soul," she replied.

" Then will Be forgive me ! Oh, my sins ! my
dins I Father, help me ! The shadows grow dark-

COAINA.

125

er— -the winds colder," cried Altontinon, shudder-
ing.

Fa%er Etienne made a sign and all withdrew
from the presence of the. fast sinking woman— her
guilty accomplices filled with confusion and dread ;
the othen- bewildered by the strange revelations
and appalling scenes they had witnessed ; all with-
drew except Coaina, whoso hand was held fast in
the death grasp of Altontinon. Father Etienne
leaned over and heard her low murmuring words
of penitence ; her voice was almost gone, or she
would have declared her sins aloud ; in view of her
great guilt, a: id the near approach of the dread
judgment, no motive of human respect or shame
could have withheld her ; her only desire 7^0?^; was
to relieve her conscience, that she might depart in
the humble hope of one day finding safety and
peace. Convinced of her true penitence, Father
Etienne administered Extreme Unction, and pro-
nounced the last absolution. She was too far gone
to receive the supreme and crowning consolation
of the Holy Viaticum.

" Does Coaina forgive me ?" she whispered again.

"Coaina's prayers have obtained your conver-
I ; doubt not, then, her forgiveness in this ex-
ti^me hour," said Father Etienne.

126

COAINA.

1
I

"Havo you prayed for mo, Coaina? Through
it all, Coaina? Can it be ? Tell me, cliild I" she
moaned.

" I have never ceased praying for yon, my aiuit,"
she replied, as she stooped down and kissed Alton-
tinon's damp forehead, already marbled by tlio
touch of death.

Then, for the first time, tears flowed from Alton-
tinon's darkened eyes, and she whispered, almost
gasping : " Call upon the holy names that I daro
not speak ; and while Father Etienne read the
office for the dying, Coaina whispered over and
over again in her ear the names of Jesus and
Mary. She lay so silent and motionless they
thought her dead, when she suddenly cried out :
"Jesus, forgive," striking her breast with her
shriveled hand; and with these words upon her
lips, with her hand uplifted to inflict another self-
accusing blow, the troubled soul of Altontinon
passed away to the tribunal of Infinite Justice,
where, we trust — despite- her sins and misdeeds — it
found safe shelter in the infinite mercy of Him who
pardoned the dying thief.

Ere night settled upon the panic-stricken village,
Winonah lay dead beside her mother. Confessing
her sins, she humbly asked pardon of Coaina,

?il

rOAINA.

whom she had bo cniclly aRsistcd to injure, aDd,
abovo all, for tho public Rcandal produced by hor
inalico and falsehoods, and died a few hours after
she was stricken by the pestilence, in great agony
and deep perturbation of soul.

Coaina had " missed the crown, but not the ««take
of martyrdom." The penitent confessions of Alton-
tinon and Winonah, before so many witnesses, re-
moved the stigma from her name and reputation.
All were as anxious now to obtain a look or word
from her as they were before eager to avoid her.
By what most people would call a remarkable

coincidence, but which Monsigneur De C , who

was deeply versed in the ways of God, styled retri-
butive justice, the first victims of cholera in that
Algonquin village were Altontinon, Winonah, and
five of their kinsfolk who were leagued with them
in the wicked plot against the innocent Coaina,
who perished, one after another, publicly confess-
ing his or her agency in the aff.iir, while they
made the most solemn asseverations of her perfect
innocence.

Like an angel, Coaina walked unscathed amidst
the pestilence ; her grey, penitential garments, so
lately the insignia of her disgrace, were now
honored as no royal robes were ever honored, and

128

COAINA.

liailed -with blessings afar and near ; wlierever she
appeared, those who had slandered, defamed and
made a mock of her, would fain have knelt and
kissed the frayed and faded serge, had she allowed
it. But such homage could not move her soul
from its strong entrenchments upon that rock
whither the storms of obloquy and humiliation
had driven her, and where, in divine crucibles, the
dross of her nature had been separated from the
precious gold. With sweet and gentle words she
received their repentant expressions of kindness,
but hastened away from all who sought to detain
her, to minister to the sick and dying. Standing
or kneeling beside them, assisting Father Etienne
in all that she could, holding the poor hands stiffen-
ing in death, or smoothing the cold forehead Imot-
ted with agony ; reciting the prayers and aspira-
tions which their feeble tongues could no longer
utter ; performing the most menial offices, shrink-
ing, in fact, from nothing that she could do for the
dying or convalescent, she gave herself but scant
rest day or night until the dread pestilence, leav-
ing behind its broad furrows of graves, passed
away from among them, through the forests,
southward.

COAINA.

129

III

CHAPTEK X.

CROWNING.

J.T was with great joy that Coaina once more
approached the divine sacraments. Like a pilgi-ini
long abroad, and lost in a dreary ^vilderness, who
suddenly finds himself at home, surrounded by its
peaceful and holy endearments, and partaking of
its joyful feasts, as one perishing with thirst in an
arid desert suddenly beholds a 'cool fountain -gush
from the burning sands beside him ; so felt she
while kneehng at the shrine of our Blessed Lady,
or before the altar to receive the Bread of refresh-
ment and eternal life. Every moment, not devoted
to the sick and to necessary repose, she spent in the
chapel ; it was her home, her refuge, her palace ;
it was to her the vestibule of heaven and the sha-
dow of its everlasting repose, where she sat undis-
turbed at the feet of Jesus and Mary.

Old Ma-kee crept here and there after her,
watching and waiting patiently her coming and
going, seemingly satisfied if he could keep her in

130

COAINA.

Bight, for he seldom spoke. Towards the people of
the mission, he preserved the most dignified hauteur,
only condescendmg to speak to them when he had
an opportunity to say something very bitter ; in
fact old Ma-kee was a sort of moral nettle, stinging
right and left, which helped the rash-mmded in
then- penance, and gave the more humble some-
thing to think about. He was only an old pagan,
we know, and it was his way to judge of a tree by
its fruits ; he was one of those witnesses no one
thinks about, who will arise in the latter day to
testify for or against the fidehty of christians to
their opportunities and graces.

It was Sunday morning, and the mission chapel
was crowded with those whom the pestilence had
spared. Father Etienne had appomted that day
not only as one of solemn thanksgiving, but was
determined, with aU the beautiful chivalry of his
nation, and the stiU more noble chivah-y of Christi-
anity, to make use of the opportunity to offer a
public amende to Coaina, whose great humiliationc^
had not only bee n public, but so entirely unmerited.
She, all unaware of what was coming, knelt in
her old accustomed place, partly sheltered from
view by a cluster of cedar posts. After Father
Etienne had spoken in the most simple but impres-

COAINA.

181

sive manner, and with touching pathos, of the great
mercy of God in having spared them while the
pestilence was abroad, and told them how in grati-
tude they were more than ever bound to love and
honor their Heavenly Protectress, of whom they
were the special care, and devote themselves to
Almighty God and His service by a stricter obe-
dience to the rules of faith, and a closer observance
of the requirements of charity ; then he proposed
that all should unite with him in saying the decade
of the five Dolorous Mysteries of the Rosary, for the
repose of the souls of those who had recently fallen
victims to the scourge of the pestilence. Instantly,
every knee was devoutly bent, and every head
bowed, wliile the soul-touching devotion, with its
solemn prayers and responses, was performed.
Low sobs and fast falhng tears attested the deep
emotion felt by the congregation, and there is no
doubt that the earnest and pathetic apj)eal to the
mercy-seat in behalf of those who could/ no longer
help themselves amidst the sweet torture of flame
and exile, fell like refreshing dews upon their patient
and suffering souls.

This over, the good priest then spoke of Coiana,
who shrunk out of sight when she heard her name,
covered with confusion and humility. He relattul,

132

COAINA.

in brief and simple language, the great wrongs that
had been inflicted upon her, then declared how
utterly groundless had been even the slightest sus-
picion of her ; how guiltless she had been of the
least crime charged against her; how each one who
had slandered and conspired against her, had sepa-
rately acknowledged their crime, and asserted her
innocence mth their dying breath ; and then, turn-
ing toward where she knelt hidden by the cedar
piUars and closely veiled, he asked in the name of
all present, her forgiveness. Then he spoke to
these simple children of the forest of the en or of
rash judgment, of the damnable sin of slander, of
the bitter evHs of envy, of the mahce of pride,' of
the blighting effects of uncharitableness, Avliich
opens the door of the soul to all of the capital sins;
after which he concluded by contrasting with these'
the beauty of humility, the virtue of silence, the
eternal fruits of penitence, the hoHness of patience,
the glory of true charity, and the divine virtue of
forgiveness. AU understood it. Not one there
who would not have kissed the hem o; Coaina's
garment ; but what was their astonishment when-
as Coiana with bowed head and meekly folded
hands, approached the altar and knelt to receive
the "food of Angels"-they saw old Ma-kee, who

COAINA.

133

had been crouching somewhere out of sight, creep
slowly forward, stand a moment erect and then
kneel at Father Etienne's feet beside her, asking
for baptism ! It was from no want of knowledge,
but of faith, that he had deferred and put aside
Christianity so long — he knew all that it taught ; he
had been living too long among christians, and was
too shrewdly intelligent, and inteUigently curious to
be igi )rant of christian doctrine or. dogma, and
now by some wonderful operation of Divine Provi-
dence — possibly in answer to Coaina's jDrayers, and
to reward his charity toward her during the days
of her tribulation— here at the last moment, just
when the last sands were crumbling away from his
frail foothold on life ; the grace of faith was once
more proffered him, not to be rejected again. That
afternoon at vespers Ma-kee recei od the regene-
rating waters of baptism, putting off his old savage
cognomen, won more than haK a century before by
his dexterity in scalping the victims which fell be-
neath his war club in the last fierce wars of his
tribe, and received in its stead that of Peter. Ma-
kee's conversion made quite a festival at the mission
of the Two Mountains, but after it was over, the old
chief was seen no more among them. He lay down
one night upon his couch of sldns, where he lingered

134

COAINA.

month after month, suffeiing from an incurable dis-
ease. He was removed on a litter to Coaina's
lodge, where she nursed him with all the fidelity
and tenderness of a daughter. Father Etienne saw
him daily and comforted him with good counsei
and cheering words. Except to these two he had
but few words to say. Wlien his friends, kinsmen
and others of his tribe, young and old, flocked to
see him, he had but one admonition, which he gave
individually to them all, and repeated again when-
ever they came ; this was : " judge not." UnUke
the beloved disciple at Patmos, he did not say:
" Little children love one another ;" Ma-kee was of
sterner stuflf, and had he been in the vigor of his
prime, he would have been just as apt as not, had
occasion offered, to have enforced his admonition
by smiting off offenders' ears and otherwise inflict-
ing such just punishment as the case in hand
required. But he was too far gone now to do
aught— to keep them in mind of the great sin of
rash judgment and uncharitableness they had fallen
into against his favorite— except say to them, one
and all, ''Judge not;' and they remembered the
solemn sentence, after the old chief was laid in his
christian grave until the end of their days.
All was changed for Coaina, but she remained

COAINA.

135

unchanged, except that her soul ripened in virtue
and gi'ace. She would fain have continued to wear
her grey robes of penance, but Father Etienne
represented to her that they were a daily reproach
to every one in the village, reminding them of their
injustice against her, and expressed his own desire
that she should leave them olT ; then for the sake
of charity, and in a spirit of obedience, she did so,
and wore a dress and veil of fine cloth, embroidered
and faced with white silk, which the ladies of Mon-
treal, who had heard her strange story, had sent to
Father Etienne for her acceptance.

Tar-ra-hee, who had been faithful to her in heart,
again sought her for his wife, and other alliances
equally as honorable were offered, but she rejected
them all with modest and gentle dignity, saying :
" I have found my true and constant Lover, He not
only comforted and sustained me, when all else
failed, and the world abandoned me ; but He also
suffered and died for me."

Ah, happy she to have so early tested the noth-
ingness of this life, and tasted so soon the bitter
lees of its flower-crow aed cup; most happy for
her, that the staff upon which she had leaned in
thoughtless security, broke in twain, piercing her
and driving her to the support of one which would

136

COAINA.

support her in the " valley of tho shadow of death/'
For Coaina was fading away from this life; her
eyes grew brighter, and her cheeks wore that crim-
son hue, which harbingers dissolution, as the red-
dening of the forest leaves tells of the death fires
which consume their hfe. Her step, once so swift
and light, became feeble and slow ; and ere long,
she was confined to her lodge. *" Changed fi'om
penitential silence to a place of pilgrimage, her
abode became the resort of people from far and
near. As they go to visit the relics and shrines of
saints, they came to look upon her ; to hear a last
word from her lips, to inhale the odor of her vir-
tues, and recommend themselves to her prayers. I
saw one, who went in to visit her, come hastily out
—the big tears rolling over his face— saving : 'I
am unworthy to remain longer in the presence of
such an angel.' "

Fading away like the morning star into tlio '
brightness of dawn, Coaina— all unmoved except to
deeper humility by all the prodigal attentions
lavished upon her, and scarcely understanding the
interest she excited, so unconscious was she of any
superior excellence— felt that her end was drawing
near. It was past midnight, and so far from any
* Monseigneur De .

COAINA.

137

leatli.*'
e; her
t crim-
e recl-
li fires
) swift
3 long,
I from
e, lior
ir and
Qes of
a last
er vir-
3rs. I
Ij out
ig: 'I
ice of

tlio

3pt to

itions
g tlio
f any
lowing

1 any

appearance of approaching dissolution about her,
her friends who had been watching beside hor,
thought they had not seen her look so well and
strong for many weeks. There was a look of joy
in her face, an elasticity in her motions, and a clear
musical ring in her voice which filled them with
astonishment, and hope that she was yet to be
spared to them. But it was only the girding-up of
the pilgrim, who, after his toilsome march, sees
through the mist the joyful glimmer upon the walls
of the city, where his weary form will find rest and
his toils their crown and reward. She was dying,
dying in cheerful hope, and calmly made her pre-
parations for the event. She asked for her richest
garments, those which she had fashioned with such
taste and care nearly four years ago, for her w^ed-
ding attire, composed of rich stuffs of various and
beautiful colors, adorned with brilliant feathers,
with pearls and silver and gold fringes ; and with
the assistance of her friends, arrayed herself in it.
Bathing her face and hands, she smoothed back
her beautiful hair, now grown long and silky, and
placed upon her head the exquisite wreath of feather
flowers and pearls, sent to her by the nuns of Notre
Dame ; she composed herself upon her pillow, her
hands folded upon her bosom, holding her beloved

138

COAINA.

rosary, which she continued to recite, while sho
awaited with serene composure the coming of
Father Etienne (who had been sent for) with tho
Holy Viaticum. Soon he came and gave her the
holy anointing, all present uniting fervently in the
prayers, while they watched through their tears the
kindling brightness of her face; after which he
approached her, holding in his veiled. hands tho
Most Holy Viaticum, the Bread which consoleth,
the Lamb which taketh away all sin. She stretched
out her thin dusky hands toward the Divine Guest,
and while her eyes glowed with unearthly lustre,
she exclaimed in clear, sweet tones: "Welcome,
beloved Lord. I bless Thee, my God, that I have
been counted worthy to be treated some little like
Thy Divine Son ; and I bless and forgive, ten thou-
sand times, all who ever injured me. Come, sweet
Jesus, it is now that my wedding feasts are about
to begin, never to end !"

These were the last words uttered by Coaina, for
after having received the Holy Viaticum, and last
absolution, she lay with folded hands, her large
bright eyes fixed upon the crucifix and the image
of Mary at the foot of her bed, speechless and mo-
tionless, and they thought, as they gazed upon her
with tender awe, that she held communication with

OOAINA.

189

angels, all unsocu by thorn. Beautiful — by tho
flickering light of tapers, which glistened with fitful
rays among tho gold and silver trimmings of her
bridal dress, flashing out here and there, as with
hidden glories — ^looked the Indian maiden ; but
more fair and lovely looked she, when the first
golden sunbeams stole through the vines, and
lighted up those soft tender eyes, now gazing upon
far greater and more distant glories — for she was
dead. No one knew the moment of her passing
away, it was so serene. Her tender and faithfu)
devotion to the Immaculate Mother of Jesus, her
patient virtues so like unto hers, crowned this
supreme hour with peace, and obtained for her, wo
trust, swift admission to the ineffable joys of her
Divine Son.

Certain it is, that the remembrance of the gentle
Coaina's devotion to the Blessed Mother — luider
whose invocation the Mission was established over
a century before — combined with a knowledge of
the fruits thereof, which they had all witnessed, not
only in the conversion of her enemies, but the in-
creased ardor of the people of the Mission, added
but another link to the glittering chain of e\ddence
which stretches from the humble house of Nazareth,
through the hoary centuries, down to our own

110

COAINA.

times, of tlie effieaoj of tlio, powerful iiitorcesHioii of
tlio Vii'f^iii Mother, wIioho Immaculate Conception
cannot bo doubted without doubting God; for if
lie, by His Divine power, created Eve, who was to
become the mother of men, pure and apotlesH, who
will dare doubt that by the same Divhio jiower,
suspending the common laws of fallen nature, He
created pure and without l)l()miHh, her, who from
all eternity was predestined to the wonderful di;,aiity
of becoming the Mother of His Divine Son. Of
her flesh was formed His; who then can believe
that that virginal flesh had taint or stain of tlio
])olluiion of the fall? Let us hail thee, then, our
Immaculate Mother and tender friend, given to us
by Almighty God from His high throne in heaven ;
bequeathed to us by Jesus from the bloody Cross
on Calvary ! hail thee as our compassionate inter-
cess(n* with thy Son, who is to be our Judge, im-
ploring thee, who partook of all the bitterness of
the cup He drained for our salvation, and who
knowest so well our human infirmities, to obtain
for us such graces that these august suffeiings and
infinite ransom may not, through our own fault,
become useless to us.

We have concluded the nan-ative of Coaina, the
Rose of the Algonquins, and will close by once more

COATNA.

I'tl

quoting from Monseignour Do C : " Her burial

was more like a triumph than a scene of mourning,
and to this day she is honored and invoked by tlie
christians of the mission of the * Lake of the
Two Mountains,' as virgin, and martyr to false
testimony.

[The follc^wing is the autograph to which we
have alluded in the commencement of Coaina. It
was written by Monsigneur de Charbonnel, Bishop
of Toronto, C. W., when he was studying the Eng-
lish language at Saint Mary's Seminary, Baltimore.
Subsequently, having received permission from the
Holy Father, he resigned the mitre, and retired to
a cloister of one of the contemplative Orders in
Europe :]

We have near Montreal a Catholic congregation
^f Indian savages. Their village is situated on the
banks of a beautiful lake formed by the waters of
the Ottawa, and crowned with two very pleasant
little mountains. Hence this village is called the
Lake of the Two Mountains.

There was in this village a young Indian girl,
still living last year ; I will call her Coaina (Cathe-
rine). She was an orphan, educated by her aunt.

142

OOAINA.

Almighty God, the special Father of orplians, grant-
ed this girl so many graces, and she was so faith-
ful to His inspirations, that, so striking was her
piety, docility, modesty and amiability, she pos-
sessed the esteem and affection of aU the village.
She made the family of her aunt happy, and pa-
rents proposed her to their children as a model to
imitate. From her first years, hke those of her
tribe, she was employed in hunting.

Every autumn they leave their village, and start
with all their little children to the northwest.
Every family embarks in its small and very Ught
canoe, and with this frail vessel goes up the river
and lakes two thousand miles distant. In certain
places they leave the river, on account of the
dreadful rapids through the rocks and falls, and
carry their canoes and baggage around. Their
happiness is to have with them a missionary, to
follow them during all their hunting. It is not
two years since that one priest was drowned, with
all those who were in the same canoe. Glorious
and happy death for a priest devoted to the glory
of God and good of souls I Arrived at the woods,
iQ places excellent for hunting, every family erects
a hut with trees and branches to pass the winter.
All their occupation during that season is to hunt ;

I .

COAINA.

143

they live on the animals which they kill or catch,
and at their return they sell the skins of these
animals, whose furs are so well appreciated in our
cities as a defence against the Sharpness of the
winter. Zou may judge how hard must be such a
life through rivers and lakes and woods, rain and
snow, frost and ice, particularly for the tender
children.

However, our young girl, in this manner of
living, became as strong, as skilful a huntress, as
she was pious and amiable. No one surpassed her
in running, in jumping, in climbing up the trees, in
shooting ; but she surpassed all the others in piety
and modesty. Accomplished as Coaina was, the
son of the chief of the tribe wished to marry her,
and the marriage was to be soon celebrated with
great feasts through the village, when all was
stopped and changed. Her aunt charged her with
many crimes; the judges of the tribe held iheir
solemn assembly to decide the case ; witnesses
wore heard, and on their depositions the accused
girl was convicted of several crimes, and con-
demned to a pubUc penance, and as much despised
as she was before esteemeTd and praised by every-
body. For several years the coming in the church
and the receiving of the holy Communion were for-

COAINA.

bidden to her; during the offices, when people
were coming in or going out, she was obliged to
kneel down or stand outside of the door of the
temple, with a dress of penance, and the title of a
hypocrite.

Meanwhile the cholera broke out; all the rela-
tives of Coaina were seized, and her aunt the first,
and more severely than the others. In fear of
death, judgment and heU, she called the priest and
the judges, and declared tt it all the accusations
against her neice were but lies, false testimony,
calumnies inspired by tJie devil of jealousy, because
her neice had been preferred to her own daughter
by the son of the chief of the tribe ; all the other
accusers confessed the same before they died
Hence, our innocent victim was not now esteemed,
as before her condemnation, like a saint, but an
angel. Ilie most advantageous alliances were
proposed to her, but sho refused them aU, to be-
long more closely to God alone.

The year before last, Coaina was taken sick;
during her sickness her cottage was changed into
a place of pilgrimage—every one came to her, as
people go to tlie reHcs of the saints, wishing to see
her again, to hear a last word from her mouth, to
inhale the odor of her virtues, to recommend them-

COAINA.

146

selves to her prayers ; and one day a pubUc sinner
being invited to visit the holy sick— I, said he.
ehedding some big tears, I, to approach such an
angel ! I am unworthy of it,

Coaina, feeling death very near, asked for her
full dress, composed of stuffs of various and bril-
liant colors, adorned with feathers, pearls, sij'ver
and gold fringes, received the sacraments with the
most edifying fervor, blessing God for having been
treated a little as her innocent Saviour, and forgiv-
ing a thousand times her calumniators. Her con-
fessor, who would not speak when she was con-
demned, said now that her aunt and relations were
indebted for their conversion to the fervent prayers
which she did not cease to say in their behalf
during her penance. "What a heroical charity !

Her last words were these : It is now that my
wedding feasts are going to begin, not to end.
Her burial was rather a triumph than a mourning.
Everybody in the viUage honors and invokes her
as a virgin, and a martyr of false testimonies.

God tries sometimes, but never gives up the
just ; and He always rewards them, here and in
heaven, according to their generosity in trials and
crosses. Pray for your servant in Christ,

A. CHAKBONNEIh