Her superb sacrifice of self, her proud indifference to delicacy and
shame, her splendid acceptance of the degradation, her instant and
fearless execution of the only plan which could save the land from war
with a united confederacy, had left us stunned with admiration and
helpless gratitude.
Had she gone to them as a white woman, using the arts of civilized
persuasion, she could have roused them to war, but she could not have
soothed them to peace. She knew it--even I knew that among the Iroquois
the Ruler of the Heavens can never speak to an Indian through the mouth
of a white woman.
As an Oneida, and a seeress of the False-Faces, she had answered their
appeal. Using every symbol, every ceremony, every art taught her as a
child, she had swayed them, vanquishing with mystery, conquering,
triumphing, as an Oneida, where a single false step, a single slip, a
moment's faltering in her sweet and serene authority might have brought
out the appalling cry of accusation:
"Her heart is white!"
And not one hand would have been raised to prevent the sacrificial test
which must follow and end inevitably in a dreadful death.
* * * * *
Mount and Elerson, moved by a rare delicacy, turned and walked
noiselessly away towards the hill-top.
"Wake her," I said to Sir George.
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