y, Judith, to be forced to
quit them. You are handsome, and not at all half-witted, and one day you
will marry, and then you will have a husband, and I a brother to take
care of us, if women can't really take care of themselves in such a
place as this."

"Ah! if this could be so, Hetty, then, indeed, I could now be a thousand
times happier in these woods, than in the settlements. Once I did not
feel thus, but now I do. Yet where is the man to turn this beautiful
place into such a garden of Eden for us?"

"Harry March loves you, sister," returned poor Hetty, unconsciously
picking the bark off the canoe as she spoke. "He would be glad to be
your husband, I'm sure, and a stouter and a braver youth is not to be
met with the whole country round."

"Harry March and I understand each other, and no more need be said about
him. There is one--but no matter. It is all in the hands of providence,
and we must shortly come to some conclusion about our future manner of
living. Remain here--that is, remain here, alone, we cannot--and perhaps
no occasion will ever offer for remaining in the manner you think of. It
is time, too, Hetty, we should learn all we can concerning our relations
and family. It is not probable we are altogether without relations, and
they may be glad to see us. The old chest is now our property, and we
have a right to look into it, and learn all we can by what it holds.
Mother was so very different from Thomas Hutter, that, now I know we are
not his children, I burn with a desire to know whose children we can be.
There are papers in that chest, I am certain, and those papers may tell
us all about our parents and natural friends."

"Well, Judith, you know best, for you are cleverer than common, mother
always said, and I am only half-witted. Now father and mother are dead,
I don't much care for any relation but you, and don't think I could love
them I never saw, as well as I ought. If you don't like to marry Hurry,
I don't see who you can choose for a husband, and then I fear we shall
have to quit the lake, after all."

"What do you think of Deerslayer, Hetty?" asked Judith, bending
forward like her unsophisticated sister, and endeavoring to conceal her
embarrassment in a similar manner. "Would he not make a brother-in-law
to your liking?"

"Deerslayer!" repeated the other, looking up in unfeigned surprise.
"Why, Judith, Deerslayer isn't in the least comely, and is altogether
unfit for one like you!"

"He i