act was
performed.

"There's an end of Floating Tom!" exclaimed Hurry, bending over
the scow, and gazing through the water at the body. "He was a brave
companion on a scout, and a notable hand with traps. Don't weep, Judith,
don't be overcome, Hetty, for the righteousest of us all must die; and
when the time comes, lamentations and tears can't bring the dead to
life. Your father will be a loss to you, no doubt; most fathers are a
loss, especially to onmarried darters; but there's a way to cure that
evil, and you're both too young and handsome to live long without
finding it out. When it's agreeable to hear what an honest and
onpretending man has to say, Judith, I should like to talk a little with
you, apart."

Judith had scarce attended to this rude attempt of Hurry's at
consolation, although she necessarily understood its general drift, and
had a tolerably accurate notion of its manner. She was weeping at the
recollection of her mother's early tenderness, and painful images of
long forgotten lessons and neglected precepts were crowding her mind.
The words of Hurry, however, recalled her to the present time, and
abrupt and unseasonable as was their import, they did not produce
those signs of distaste that one might have expected from the girl's
character. On the contrary, she appeared to be struck with some sudden
idea, gazed intently for a moment at the young man, dried her eyes, and
led the way to the other end of the scow, signifying her wish for him to
follow. Here she took a seat and motioned for March to place himself at
her side. The decision and earnestness with which all this was done a
little intimidated her companion, and Judith found it necessary to open
the subject herself.

"You wish to speak to me of marriage, Harry March," she said, "and
I have come here, over the grave of my parents, as it might
be--no--no--over the grave of my poor, dear, dear, mother, to hear what
you have to say."

"This is oncommon, and you have a skearful way with you this evening,
Judith," answered Hurry, more disturbed than he would have cared to own,
"but truth is truth, and it shall come out, let what will follow. You
well know, gal, that I've long thought you the comeliest young woman my
eyes ever beheld, and that I've made no secret of that fact, either here
on the lake, out among the hunters and trappers, or in the settlements."

"Yes--yes, I've heard this before, and I suppose it to be true,"
answered Judith with a s