Every day her beauty seemed renewed.

She was as apt to learn as she was quick to turn her black-crowned head, but her supreme beauty was her loving, innocent soul.

Untainted as the clearest spring, it mirrored the purity and simplicity of her life.

Indian she might be, one of a race whose morals and manners were alien to the man she loved, yet she would have added honor to the proudest name.
When Whispering Winds raised her dark eyes they showed radiant as a lone star; when she spoke low her voice made music.
"Beloved," she whispered one day to him, "teach the Indian maiden more love for you, and truth, and God.

Whispering Winds yearns to go to the Christians, but she fears her stern father.