That was when I would hide and come softly back so that she would not hear me coming.

'Oh, mother, why are you crying?
Does your lame foot hurt you ?' And one day she took me in her arms and told me truly why she cried." She ceased speaking, but looked at me with a strange new light coming into her eyes.
"Why did she cry, my love ?" "Oh, Abel, can you understand--now--at last!" And putting her lips close to my ear, she began to murmur soft, melodious sounds that told me nothing.

Then drawing back her head, she looked again at me, her eyes glistening with tears, her lips half parted with a smile, tender and wistful.
Ah, poor child! in spite of all that had been said, all that had happened, she had returned to the old delusion that I must understand her speech.

I could only return her look, sorrowfully and in silence.
Her face became clouded with disappointment, then she spoke again with something of pleading in her tone.

"Look, we are not now apart, I hiding in the wood, you seeking, but together, saying the same things.