st was complied with, and the hunter stood by the side of
the pallet, submitting to the wishes of the girl with the docility of a
child.

"I feel, Deerslayer," she resumed, "though I couldn't tell why-but
I feel that you and I are not going to part for ever. 'Tis a strange
feeling! I never had it before; I wonder what it comes from!"

"'Tis God encouraging you in extremity, Hetty; as such it ought to be
harbored and respected. Yes, we shall meet ag'in, though it may be a
long time first, and in a far distant land."

"Do you mean to be buried in the lake, too? If so, that may account for
the feeling."

"'Tis little likely, gal; 'tis little likely; but there's a region for
Christian souls, where there's no lakes, nor woods, they say; though why
there should be none of the last, is more than I can account for; seeing
that pleasantness and peace is the object in view. My grave will be
found in the forest, most likely, but I hope my spirit will not be far
from your'n."

"So it must be, then. I am too weak-minded to understand these things,
but I feel that you and I will meet again. Sister, where are you? I
can't see, now, anything but darkness. It must be night, surely!"

"Oh! Hetty, I am here at your side; these are my arms that are around
you," sobbed Judith. "Speak, dearest; is there anything you wish to say,
or have done, in this awful moment."

By this time Hetty's sight had entirely failed her. Nevertheless death
approached with less than usual of its horrors, as if in tenderness to
one of her half-endowed faculties. She was pale as a corpse, but her
breathing was easy and unbroken, while her voice, though lowered almost
to a whisper, remained clear and distinct. When her sister put this
question, however, a blush diffused itself over the features of the
dying girl, so faint however as to be nearly imperceptible; resembling
that hue of the rose which is thought to portray the tint of modesty,
rather than the dye of the flower in its richer bloom. No one but Judith
detected this exposure of feeling, one of the gentle expressions of
womanly sensibility, even in death. On her, however, it was not lost,
nor did she conceal from herself the cause.

"Hurry is here, dearest Hetty," whispered the sister, with her face so
near the sufferer as to keep the words from other ears. "Shall I tell
him to come and receive your good wishes?"

A gentle pressure of the hand answered in the affirmative. Then Hurry
was brought to