going to stick right close to you, no matter what happens. But I think
you had better leave this place which gives you such gloomy thoughts.
This is too nice a day to feel unhappy."

"You are right, dear, and I suppose we had better go home. But I like
to watch those great trees over yonder. How strong and self-reliant
they are. How proudly they lift their heads. What storms have swept
over them, and yet they stand as erect as ever. They do not complain,
but accept everything, whether sunshine or darkness, winter or summer,
as a matter of course. They are friendly, too, and their big branches
seem to reach out like welcoming hands. There is always something
inspiring to me about a great forest."

Often during the following days Jean's mind reverted to what her father
had said to her at the falls. Although his old cheerful spirit
returned, yet she observed him at times during the evenings, which were
now lengthening, wrapped in thought, unheeding what was taking place
around him. This worried her a great deal, and a new sense of
responsibility began to shape itself in her mind. She believed that he
missed his old home in Connecticut more than he would acknowledge, and
that he was wearying of the monotonous life in the wilderness. Perhaps
he needed a change, and she wondered how this could be brought about.

She was thinking seriously of this at the close of a bright day as she
pointed the bark canoe up the creek lying to the northwest of the
settlement. She had become quite expert in handling the frail craft,
although, at her father's bidding, she always paddled in shallow water.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and the mighty forest crowning the
undulating hills was radiant with the beams of the streaming sun.
Slowly she moved up a narrow winding channel, the trees of the