devotionbyfurtivelycaressinghiswrinkledfrontseemstooreproachfulofthegeneralpublic；while，ontheotherhand，ifthebrideisveryyoungandpretty，itenlistsinbehalfofthewhite-hairedhusbandtheunwillingsympathiesofthespectatortoseeherthecentreofagroupofyoungpeople，andhimonlyacknowledgedfromtimetotimebyaParthiansnub。Nothing，however，couldhavebeenmoresatisfactorythanthesisterlysurroundingofthislatterbride。TheywereofabetterclassofIrishpeople；andifithadbeenanysacrificeforhertomarrysooldaman，theyweredoingtheirbesttogivetheaffairatleastthelivelinessofawake。Therewerefiveorsixofthosegreathandsomegirls，withtheirgenerouscurvesandwholesomecolors，andtheywereeveryoneattendedbyagood-lookingcoloniallover，withwhomtheyjokedinslightlybroguedvoices，andlaughedwithcarelessCelticlaughter。
Oneoftheyoungfellowspresentlylosthishatoverboard，andhadtowearthehandkerchiefofhisladyabouthishead；andthisappearedtobereallyoneofthebestthingsintheworld，andledtoendlessbanter。
Theywerewelldressed，anditcouldbeimaginedthattheancientbridegroomhadcomeinforthesupportofthewholegood-looking，healthy，light-heartedfamily。Insomedegreehelookedit，andworebutaruefulcountenanceforabridegroom；sothataveryyoungnewlymarriedcouple，whosatnextthejollysister-and-loverhoodcouldnotkeeptheirpityingeyesoffhisdowncastface。“Whatifhe，too，wereyoungatheart！“thekindlittlewife’sregardseemedtosay。
Forthesakeoftheslightairthatwasstirring，andtohavethebestviewoftheRapids，theBanshee’swholecompanywasgatheredupontheforwardpromenade，andthethrongwasalmostasdenseasinasix-o’clockhorse-caroutfromBoston。Thestandingandsittinggroupswerecloselypackedtogether，andtheexpandedparasolsandumbrellasformedanearlyunbrokenroof。UnderthisIsabelchattedatintervalswiththeEllisons，whosatnear；butitwasnotanatmospherethatprovokedsocialfeeling，andshewassecretlygladwhenafterawhiletheyshiftedtheirposition。
Itwasdeadlyhot，andmostofthepeoplesaddenedandsilencedintheheat。Fromtimetotimethecloudsidlingaboutoverheadmetandsprinkleddownacruellittleshowerofrainthatseemedtomaketheairlessbreathablethanbefore。Thelonelyshoreswereyellowwithdrought；
theislandsgrewwilderandbarrener；thecourseoftheriverwasformilesatastretchthroughcountrywhichgavenosignsofhumanlife。
TheSt。LawrencehasnoneoftheboldpicturesquenessoftheHudson，andisfarmorelikeitsfar-offcousintheMississippi。ItsbanksarelowliketheMississippi’s，itscurrent，swift，itswaythroughsolitarylands。Thesamesentimentofearlyadventurehangsabouteach:botharehauntedbyvisionsoftheJesuitinhispriestlyrobe，andthesoldierinhismediaevalsteel；thesamegay，devout，anddauntlessracehastouchedthembothwithimmortalromance。Ifthewaterwereofaduskygoldencolor，insteadoftranslucentgreen，andtheshoresandislandswerecoveredwithcottonwoodsandwillowsinsteadofdarkcedars，onecouldwithnogreateffortbelieveone’sselfontheMississippibetweenCairoandSt。Louis，somuchdothegreatriversstrikeoneaskindredinthechieffeaturesoftheirlandscape。Only，intracingthisresemblanceyoudonotknowjustwhattodowiththepurplemountainsofVermont，seenvagueagainstthehorizonfromtheSt。Lawrence，orwiththequaintlittleFrenchvillagesthatbegintoshowthemselvesasyoupenetratefartherdownintoLowerCanada。Theselooksopeaceful，withtheirdormer-windowedcottagesclusteringabouttheirchurch-spires，thatitseemsimpossibletheycouldoncehavebeenthehomesofthesavagesandthecruelpeasantswho，withfire-brandandscalping-knifeandtomahawk，harassedthebordersofNewEnglandforahundredyears。ButjustafteryoudescendtheLongSaultyoupassthehamletofSt。Regis，inwhichwaskindledthetorchthatwraptDeerfieldinflames，wakingherpeoplefromtheirsleeptomeetinstantdeathortastethebitternessofacaptivity。
ThebellwhichwassentoutfromFrancefortheIndianconvertsoftheJesuits，andwascapturedbyanEnglishshipandcarriedintoSalem，andthencesoldtoDeerfield，whereitcalledthePuritanstoprayer，tillatlastitalsosummonedthepriest-ledIndiansand’habitans’acrosshundredsofmilesofwinterandofwildernesstoreclaimitfromthatdesecration，——thisfatefulbellstillhangsinthechurch-towerofSt。
Regis，andhasinvitedtomatinsandvespersfornearlytwocenturiesthechildrenofthosewhofoughtsopitilesslyanddaredandenduredsomuchforit。Ourfriendswouldfairhavehearditastheypassed，hopingforsomemournfulnoteofhistoryinitssound；butithungsilentoverthesilenthamlet，which，asitlayinthehotafternoonsunbytheriver’sside，seemedaslifelessastheDeerfieldburntlongago。
Theyturnedfromittolookatagentlemanwhohadjustappearedinamustard-coloredlinenduster，andBasilasked，“Shouldn’tyouliketoknowtheorigin，personalhistory，andsecretfeelingsofagentlemanwhogoesaboutinadusterofthatparticulartint？Or，thatgentlemanyonderwithhiseyetiedupinawethandkerchief，doyousupposehe’stravellingforpleasure？LookatthoseyoungpeoplefromOmaha:theyhaven’tceasedflirtingorcacklingsinceweleftKingston。DoyouthinkeverybodyhassuchspiritsoutatOmaha？Butbeholdayetmoresurprisingfigurethananywehaveyetseenamongthisboat-loadofnondescripts。“
Thiswasatall，handsomeyoungman，withafaceofsomewhatforeigncast，andwelldressed，withacertainimpressivedifferencefromtherestinthecutofhisclothes。Butwhatmostdrewtheeyetohimwasalargecross，setwithbrilliants，andsurmountedbyaheavydouble-headedeagleingold。Thisornamentdazzledfromaconspicuousplaceontheleftlappetofhiscoat；onhishandshoneamagnificentdiamondring，andheboreastatelyopera-glass，withwhich，fromtimetotime，heimperiously，asonemaysay，surveyedthelandscape。AstheimposingapparitiongrewuponIsa-bel，“Ohere，“shethought，“issomethingtrulydistinguished。Ofcourse，dear，“sheaddedaloudtoBasil，“he’ssomeforeignnoblemantravellinghere“；andsheranoverinhermindthenewspaperannouncementsofpatricianvisitorsfromabroadandtriedtoidentifyhimwithsomeoneofthem。Thecrossmustbethedecorationofaforeignorder，andBasilsuggestedthathewasperhapsamemberofsomelegationatWashington，whohadranupthereforhissummervacation。
Thecrosspuzzledhim，butthedouble-headedeagle，hesaid，meanteitherAustriaorRussia；probablyAustria，forthewearerlookedatrifletoocivilizedforaRussian。
“Yes，indeed！Whatanairhehas。Nevertellme。Basil，thatthere’snothinginblood！“criedIsabel，whowasabitteraristocratatheart，likeallhersex，thoughinprincipleshewasdemocraticenough。Asshespoke，theobjectofherregardlookedabouthimonthedifferentgroups，notwithpride，notwithhauteur，butwithaglanceofunconscious，unmistakablesuperiority。“O，thatstare！“sheadded；nothingbuthighbirthandlongdescentcangiveit！Dearest，he’sbecomingagreatafflictiontome。Iwanttoknowwhoheis。Couldn’tyouinventsomepretextforspeakingtohim？“
“No，Icouldn’tdoitdecently；andnodoubthe’dsnubmeasIdeservedifIintrudeduponhim。Let’swaitforfortunetorevealhim。“
“Well，IsupposeImust，butit’sdreadful；it’sreallydreadful。Youcaneasilyseethat’sdistinction，“shecontinued，asherheromovedaboutthepromenadeandgentlybutloftilymadeawayforhimselfamongtheotherpassengersandfavoredthescenerythroughhisopera-glassfromonepointandanother。Hespoketonoone，andshereasonablysupposedthathedidnotknowEnglish。
Inthemeantimeitwasdrawingnearthehourofdinner，butnodinnerappeared。Twelve，one，twocameandwent，andthenatlastcamethedinner，whichhadbeendelayed，itseemed，tillthecookcouldrecruithisenergiessufficientlytomeetthewantsofdoublethenumberhehadexpectedtoprovidefor。ItwasobservableoftheofficersandcrewoftheBanshee，thatwhiletheydidnotholdthemselvesalooffromthepassengersinthedisdainfulAmericanmanner，theywereoffeeblemind，andnotonlydideverythingveryslowlyintheusualCanadianfashion，butwithaninefficiencythatamonguswouldhavejustifiedtheminbeinginsolent。Thepeoplesatdownatseveralsuccessivetablestotheworstdinnerthateverwascooked；theladiesfirst，andthegentlemenafterwards，astheymadeconquestofplaces。Atthesecondtable，toBasil’sgreatsatisfaction，hefoundaseat，andonhisrighthandthedistinguishedforeigner。
“Naturally，Iwassomewhatabashed，“hesaidintheaccounthewaspresentlycalledtogiveIsabeloftheinterview，“butIrememberedthatIwasanAmericancitizen，andtriedtomaintainadecentcomposure。Forseveralminuteswesatsilentbehindadishofflabbycucumbers，expectingthedinner，andIwaswonderingwhetherIshouldaddresshiminFrenchorGerman，——forIknewyou’dneverforgivemeifIletslipsuchachance，——whenheturnedandspokehimself。“
“Owhatdidhesay，dearest？“
Hesaid，“Prettytejiouswaitin，’ain’tit？inshebestNewYorkStateaccent。“
“Youdon’tmeanit！“gaspedIsabel。
“ButIdo。AfterthatItookcouragetoaskwhathiscrossanddouble-
headedeaglemeant。Heshowedthecondescensionofatruenobleman。
’O，’sayshe，’I’mgladyoulikeit，andit’snottheleastoffensetoask，’andhetoldme。“Canyouimaginewhatitis？It’stheemblemofthefifty-fourthdegreeinthesecretsocietyhebelongsto！“
“Idon’tbelieveit！“
“Well，askhimyourself，then，“returnedBasil；“he’saverygoodfellow。’O，thatstare！nothingbuthighbirthandlongdescentcouldgiveit！’“herepeated，abominablyimplyingthathehadhimselfhadnoshareintheircommonerror。
WhatretortIsabelmighthavemadecannotnowbeknown，forshewasarrestedatthismomentbyarumoramongstthepassengersthattheywerecomingtotheLongSaultRapids。Lookingforwardshesawthetossingandflashingofsurgesthat，totheeye，arecertainlyasthreateningastherapidsaboveNiagara。ThesteamerhadalreadypassedtheDeplauandtheGalopes，andtheyhadthushadaforetasteofwhateverpleasureorterrorthereisinthedescentoftheseninemilesofstormysea。Itispurelyamatteroftaste，aboutshootingtherapidsoftheSt。Lawrence。Thepassengerslikeitbetterthanthecaptainandthepilot，toguessesbytheirlooks，andthewomenandchildrenlikeitbetterthanthemen。Itisnodoubtverythrillingandpicturesqueandwildlybeautiful:thechildrencrowandlaugh，thewomenshoutforththeirdelight，astheboatenterstheseethingcurrent；greatfoamingwavesstrikeherbows，andbrawlawaytothestern，whileshedips，androlls，andshootsonward，lightasabirdblownbythewind；thewildshoresandislandswhirloutofsight；youfeelineveryfibrethecareerofthevessel。Butthecaptainsitsinfrontofthepilothousesmokingwithagraveface，thepilotstughardatthewheel；thehoarseroarofthewatersfillstheair；beneaththesmoothersweepsofthecurrentyoucanseethebrownrocks；asyousinkfromledgetoledgeinthewrithingandtwistingsteamer，youhaveavaguesensethatallthisisperhapsanachievementratherthananenjoyment。When，descendingtheLongSault，youlookbackuphill，andbeholdthosebillowsleapingdownthesteepslopeafteryou，“Nodoubt，“youconfidetoyoursoul，“itismagnificent；butitisnotpleasure。“Yougreetwithsilentsatisfactionthelevelriver，stretchingbetweentheLongSaultandtheCoteau，andyouadmirethedelightfultranquillityofthatbeautifulLakeSt。Francisintowhichitexpands。ThentheboatshuddersintotheCoteauRapids，anddownthroughtheCedarsandCascades。Ontherocksofthelastliestheskeletonofasteamerwreckeduponthem，andgnawedatstillbythewhite-tuskedwolfishrapids。Noone，theysay，waslostfromher。“Buthow，“Basilthought，“woulditfarewithallthesepeoplepackedhereuponherbow，iftheBansheeshouldswingrounduponaledge？“AstoIsabel，shelookeduponthewreckedsteamerwithindifference，asdidallthewomen；