s, and in the event of my sufficient
success, that I might win you altogether for myself. I have not done
much for this object and this unhappy affair forbids me for the present
to do more. Is not this enough, Katharine, and must I bury myself from
you a thousand miles in the forest, ignorant of what may be going on,
and without any hope, such as I have lived for before? Is the labor I
have undergone--the life I have led--to have no fruits? Will you too be
the first to recommend forgetfulness; to overthrow my chance of
happiness? No--it must not be. Hear me, Kate--hear me, and say I have
not worked altogether in vain. I have acquired some little by my toils,
and can acquire more. There is one thing now, one blessing which you may
afford, and the possession of which will enable me to go with a light
heart and a strong hand into any forests, winning comforts for both of
us--happiness, if the world have it--and nothing to make us afraid."

He spoke with deep energy, and she looked inquiringly into his face. The
expression was satisfactory, and she replied without hesitation:--

"I understand you, Mark Forrester--I understand you, but it must not be.
I must regard and live for affections besides my own. Would you have me
fly for ever from those who have been all to me--from those to whom I am
all--from my father--from my dear, my old mother! Fy, Mark."

"And are you not all to me, Katharine--the one thing for which I would
live, and wanting which I care not to live? Ay, Katharine, fly with me
from all--and yet not for ever. They will follow you, and our end will
then be answered. Unless you do this, they would linger on in this place
without an object, even if permitted, which is very doubtful, to hold
their ground--enjoying life as a vegetable, and dead before life itself
is extinct."

"Spare your speech, Mark--on this point you urge me in vain," was the
firm response of the maiden. "Though I feel for you as as I feel for
none other, I also feel that I have other ties and other obligations,
all inconsistent with the step which you would have me take. I will not
have you speak of it further--on this particular I am immoveable."

A shade of mortification clouded the face of Forrester as she uttered
these words, and for a moment he was silent. Resuming, at length, with
something of resignation in his manner, he continued--

"Well, Kate, since you will have it so, I forbear; though, what course
is left for you, and what h