Till the sun was setting behind the hill;
But for him, amid scenes of fashion gay,
All thought of his promise had passed away.

"I will wait for him here," she softly said,
"Yes, wait till he comes," and her weary head
Drooped low on her breast, and when the night,
On noiseless pinions had taken its flight,
She looked at the sunrise, with eyes grown dim,
And murmured: "I'll wait here for death or him."

It was death that came, and with kindly touch
He stilled the heart that had borne so much;
To the _Manitou_ praying, she passed away
With the sunset clouds of another day,--
No anger quickened her failing breath,
Patient, unmurmuring, even in death.

For days they sought her, the sons of her race,
In deep far-off woods, in each secret place,
Till at length to the haunted glade they crept,
And found her there as in death she slept.
They whispered low of the spirit of ill,
And buried her quickly beside the hill.

That year her false lover back with him bore
A radiant bride to his native shore.
And, with smiling triumph and joy elate,
Ne'er gave one thought to his dark love's fate;
But an All-seeing Judge, in wrath arrayed,