But, as Chingachgook did not
understand this feeling, he remained respectfully attentive to any
thing she might be pleased to tell him.
"You are Chingachgook, the Great Serpent of the Delawares, ar'n't
you?" the girl at length commenced, in her own simple way losing
her self-command in the desire to proceed, but anxious first to
make sure of the individual. "Chingachgook," returned the Delaware
with grave dignity. "That say Great Sarpent, in Deerslayer tongue."
"Well, that is my tongue. Deerslayer, and father, and Judith, and
I, and poor Hurry Harry - do you know Henry March, Great Serpent?
I know you don't, however, or he would have spoken of you, too."
"Did any tongue name Chingachgook, Drooping-Lily"? for so the
chief had named poor Hetty. "Was his name sung by a little bird
among Iroquois?"
Hetty did not answer at first, but, with that indescribable
feeling that awakens sympathy and intelligence among the youthful
and unpracticed of her sex, she hung her head, and the blood suffused
her cheek ere she found her tongue. It would have exceeded her
stock of intelligence to explain this embarrassment, but, though
poor Hetty could not reason, on every emergency, she could always
feel.
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