fashioned kind. He looked back in the direction of the tent.

The girl had reappeared, and was looking at him. She waved a hand,
and he ran down to meet her. She had been crying. The dampness of
tears still clung to her lashes; but the smile on her lips was
sweet and welcoming, and now, so frankly that his face burned with
pleasure, she held out a hand to him.

"I was rude to run away from you in that way," she apologized.
"But I couldn't cry before you. And I wanted to cry."

"Because you were glad, or sorry?" he asked.

"A little of both," she replied. "But mostly glad. A few hours ago
it didn't seem possible that there was any hope for me. Now--"

"There is hope," he urged.

"Yes, there is hope."

For an instant he felt the warm thrill of her fingers as they
clung tighter to his. Then she withdrew her hand, gently, smiling
at him with sweet confidence. Her eyes were like pure, soft
violets. He wanted to kneel at her feet, and cry out his thanks to
God for sending him to her. Instead of betraying his emotion, he
spoke of the canoes.

"There are two canoes coming along the shore of the lake," he
said. "Are you expecting some one?"