s and utterly delighted with each other. Both welcomed him, and
when he had been seated, Edith asked, rather abruptly:

"Now, Lewis, what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he replied, looking at the toe of his moccasin, and feeling
a little stubborn and ugly simply because his fair questioner was just
the opposite.

"Now you needn't tell me that," she persisted. "What makes you act so
strangely--and keep away from me as though you hated me?"

"_You_ ought to know," replied the hunter, more sullenly than before.

"I? I am sure I do not. Pray, what is it?"

The hunter, who was acting much like a pouting child, refused to make
answer. Edith laughingly repeated her question several times, but it
was not replied to. Still laughing and blushing, she arose, and moved
her chair close beside him; then, sitting down, placed one of her warm
hands in his. Gently patting his embrowned cheek with the other hand,
she asked, in that voice which none but the maiden can assume who is
conscious of her power:

"_Won't_ you tell Edith what troubles you?"

Matters were getting decidedly dangerous. There sat the sullen hunter,
his head bent, his lips closed, and his eyes fixed resolutely upon the
toe of his moccasin. Right before these eyes, so directly before them
that the view of his foot was almost hid, was the beaming, laughing,
radiant face of Edith, looking right up in his own, her eyes sparkling,
and her countenance a thousand times more lovely than ever. Several
times Dernor felt like catching her to his bosom, and kissing her lips
again and again; but, as he was on the very point of doing so, he
remembered that Sego was in the room, and felt more angered than ever,
and gazed harder than ever at his moccasin.

"Won't you even look at me?" asked Edith, putting her open hand over
his eyes, as if to pull his gaze down. He instantly looked her steadily
in the face, without changing a muscle of his countenance, while she,
folding her hands, returned the gaze with equal steadiness. Her lips,
too, were resolutely closed, but her eyes fairly scintillated with
mischief, and she seemed just able to prevent herself from laughing
outright. How long this _oculistic_ contest would have continued we can
not pretend to say, but it was ended by Edith asking:

"What makes you look so troubled, Lewis?"

"Because I am," he replied, curtly.

"Tell me the cause, and I will do all I can to help it."

"It's _you_ that have done it!" He spok