the
world. Just at that moment the longing was almost unbearable, and the
little, long-beaked birds scuttled away in fright as Stephanie leant
over the stump fence. "Dick! Dick! Dick!" she cried very softly, and
the words held a prayer.

It was a prayer which was to be immediately answered, for, without any
preliminary rustle of leaves or noise of footsteps, a man walked softly
out of the thick-leaved undergrowth, and stood before her. Her heart
leapt wildly, and then grew quiet again, for the man was a stranger to
her. He was tall, and his dark, bright face showed his mixed French
and Indian descent; he was almost fantastically dressed in fringed
deerskins and quaint finery, and the cap which he raised was decorated
with feathers. But Stephanie had seen such trappers before in the old
days, and did not fear his long gun or his savage silence. And,
indeed, in his flourishing bow, French courtesy was apparent. But he
was slow of speech, as are all dwellers in the woods; and now he merely
held out a tiny package, wrapped in birch-bark, with an inquiring
glance towards her.

[Illustration: "HE HELD OUT A TINY PACKAGE, WRAPPED IN BIRCH-BARK, WITH
AN INQUIRING GLANCE TOWARDS HER."]

She saw her name scrawled upon the outside, and took it eagerly. There
was a mist before her eyes for a moment, and she could do nothing but
clasp the precious package close, and murmur little phrases of
gratitude and comfort and endearing words--she scarcely knew what.
When she came to herself a little, the trapper had gone, as he had
come, in utter silence. She tore off the outer wrapping of the smooth
bark, with its fringe of fragile green lichen, and read the few lines
scrawled within. The note was from Dick, as she had expected, and it
had been written weeks before.

"Dear, dear Steenie," it ran, "I am almost too much ashamed to write to
you, but I think of you always. I could not go on with the farm work
any longer. You don't know how I hated it. I know what you must all
think of me; but I only wish you were with me now! I never thought the
world could be so beautiful, and I feel as if I were living now for the
first time. I 'm sorry and miserable, of course; but I wish you were
here to see the trees and the skies and the rivers that I am growing to
love. It is all splendid. Never forget me, as I never forget you."
That was all; but, besides the not very deep shame and penitence, these
lines held a great joy, a great