The thought that Rima had perished, that she was lost, was unendurable.

It could not be! No doubt the Indians tract come and destroyed the house during our absence; but she had returned, and they had gone away again to come no more.

She would be somewhere in the forest, perhaps not far off, impatiently waiting our return.

The old man stared at me while I spoke; he appeared to be in a kind of stupor, and made no reply: and at last, leaving him still sitting on the ground, I went into the wood to look for Rima.
As I walked there, occasionally stopping to peer into some shadowy glade or opening, and to listen, I was tempted again and again to call the name of her I sought aloud; and still the fear that by so doing I might bring some hidden danger on myself, perhaps on her, made me silent.

A strange melancholy rested on the forest, a quietude seldom broken by a distant bird's cry.