nd
do, want to see you, I prefer that you stay just as long as it is necessary to accomplish all your heart's desire respecting the interests of this country, so dear to us both our home.
Dr. McLoughlin sent me a keg of fresh apples from Fort Vancouver, and ever since we have been enjoying apple pies.
The Indians that met you beyond Grande Ronde appeared very happy to say they had seen you, and to hear something about your plans for returning, from yourself. Sticcas really mourns about you, that he did not come and see you before you left. I believe it is a great comfort to them to see me left behind. They tell me they are waiting to see where I go, before they decide where to go for the winter.
Almost three long weeks have passed since we exchanged the parting kiss, and many, many long weeks are yet to come before we shall be permitted, if ever, in this world, to greet each other again. ... I follow you night and day, and shall through the whole journey, in my imagination and my prayers. My heart is as your heart in this matter. I confidently believe you will be blessed in the object of your visit to the States.
Read this letter, my husband, and then give it to my mother. Perhaps she would like once more to take a peep into one of the secret chambers of her daughter's heart. . . .
NARCISSA.
Even while Mrs. Whitman was writing, the Cayuses were fishing in the Walla Walla. Dr. Whitman had just thrashed, and the straw lay in a pile by the mill. They built a fire to roast their fish. That night, while the careless Cayuses slept, the sparks crept from straw to straw until they reached the pile. At midnight the flames of the burning mill cast a lurid glare on the walls of Whitman mission.
It was enough. "I dare not go back," she said. The Methodist mission sent an invitation for Mrs.
'5
