cry, Hale sprang toward her. In the hole she was
digging he saw the gleam of gold and then her trembling fingers brought
out before his astonished eyes the little fairy stone that he had given
her long ago. She had left it there for him, she said, through tears,
and through his own tears Hale pointed to the stricken oak:

"It saved the Pine," he said.

"And you," said June.

"And you," repeated Hale solemnly, and while he looked long at her, her
arms dropped slowly to her sides and he said simply:

"Come!"

Leading the horses, they walked noiselessly through the deep sand around
the clump of rhododendron, and there sat the little cabin of Lonesome
Cove. The holy hush of a cathedral seemed to shut it in from the world,
so still it was below the great trees that stood like sentinels on
eternal guard. Both stopped, and June laid her head on Hale's shoulder
and they simply looked in silence.

"Dear old home," she said, with a little sob, and Hale, still silent,
drew her to him.

"You were _never_ coming back again?"

"I was never coming back again." She clutched his arm fiercely as though
even now something might spirit him away, and she clung to him, while he
hitched the horses and while they walked up the path.

"Why, the garden is just as I left it! The very same flowers in the very
same places!" Hale smiled.

"Why not? I had Uncle Billy do that."

"Oh, you dear--you dear!"

Her little room was shuttered tight as it always had been when she was
away, and, as usual, the front door was simply chained on the outside.
The girl turned with a happy sigh and looked about at the nodding
flowers and the woods and the gleaming pool of the river below and up
the shimmering mountain to the big Pine topping it with sombre majesty.

"Dear old Pine," she murmured, and almost unconsciously she unchained
the door as she had so often done before, stepped into the dark room,
pulling Hale with one hand after her, and almost unconsciously reaching
upward with the other to the right of the door. Then she cried aloud:

"My key--my key is there!"

"That was in case you should come back some day."

"Oh, I might--I might! and think if I had come too late--think if I
hadn't come _now!_" Again her voice broke and still holding Hale's arm,
she moved to her own door. She had to use both hands there, but before
she let go, she said almost hysterically:

"It's so dark! You won't leave me, dear, if I let you go?"

For answer Hale