slight rustling of the withered leaves, and looking up beheld Yoletta
coming swiftly towards me with outstretched arms, and her face shining
with joy. Perhaps she would come again to me to-day: yes, she would
surely come when I wished for her so much; for she had followed me out
to try to dissuade me from going to the woods, and would be anxiously
thinking about me; and she could spare an hour from the sick-room now.
The trees and bushes would prevent me from seeing her approach, but I
should hear her, as I had heard her before. I sat motionless, scarcely
breathing, straining my sense to catch the first faint sound of her
light, swift step; and every time a small bird, hopping along the
ground, rustled a withered leaf, I started up to greet and embrace her.
But she did not come; and at last, sick at heart with hope deferred, I
covered my face with my hands, and, weak with misery, cried like a
disappointed child.

Presently something touched me, and, removing my hands from my face, I
saw that great silver-gray dog which had come to Yoletta's call when I
fainted, sitting before me with his chin resting on my knees. No doubt
he remembered that last wood-cutting day very well, and had come to take
care of me now.

"Welcome, dear old friend!" said I; and in my craving for sympathy of
some kind I put my arms over him, and pressed my face against his. Then
I sat up again, and gazed into the pair of clear brown eyes watching my
face so gravely.

"Look here, old fellow," said I, talking audibly to him for want of
something in human shape to address, "you didn't lick my face just now
when you might have done so with impunity; and when I speak to you, you
don't wag that beautiful bushy tail which serves you for ornament. This