"What, let you leave me--now you are mine--to go all that distance, through all that wild country where you might lose yourself and perish alone?
Oh, do not think of it!" She listened, regarding me with some slight trouble in her eyes, but smiling a little at the same time.

Her small hand moved up my arm and caressed my cheek; then she drew my face down to hers until our lips met.

But when I looked at her eyes again, I saw that she had not consented to my wish.

"Do I not know all the way now," she spoke, "all the mountains, rivers, forests--how should I lose myself?
And I must return quickly, not step by step, walking--resting, resting--walking, stopping to cook and eat, stopping to gather firewood, to make a shelter--so many things! Oh, I shall be back in half the time; and I have so much to do." "What can you have to do, love ?--everything can be done when we are in the wood together." A bright smile with a touch of mockery in it flitted over her face as she replied: "Oh, must I tell you that there are things you cannot do?
Look, Abel," and she touched the slight garment she wore, thinner now than at first, and dulled by long exposure to sun and wind and rain.
I could not command her, and seemed powerless to persuade her; but I had not done yet, and proceeded to use every argument I could find to bring her round to my view; and when I finished she put her arms around my neck and drew herself up once more.

"O Abel, how happy I shall be!" she said, taking no notice of all I had said.