All this meant so much to Cherokee--these hours with him--these hours of forgetfulness of all but him--these hours of abandon, of unrestrained joy, flooded her life with a light of heaven. She had given her happiness into his keeping; and he had accepted the responsibility with a finer appreciation of all it meant than is shown by most men. Where could there have been a prettier trothing-place than here in the free forest, where the good God had been the chief landscape gardener. Here was the God-touch in everything. Well had the red man called this month the “moon ’o falling leaves.” Softly they came shivering down, down, down, at their feet, breathing the scent of autumn. Now, and here, nature is seen in smoother, softer, mellower aspect than she wears anywhere else in the world. It was nearing the nooning hour when, together, the lovers’ steps tended homeward, and when they reached the house, Robert vowed it would never again be in him to say that he didn’t love the South and the country. With what a young, young face Dorothy met the Major. As she looked up she saw his wide kind eyes smiling; he leaned forward and laid his hand upon her, saying, “My little girl, after all, love is life.” At these words a tall, slight woman raised her head--a secret bond of fellowship seemed to have stirred some strange, mysterious sympathy. The Major crossed over to her; what though time had stolen away her youth--her freshness gone, there was still sweet love gleaming in her lined face--it could not be that they were old. Tenderly he took her warm soft hand in his, and told her how he loved her. The sweethearts looked on and rejoiced; neither whispered it to the other, but deep in the heart each said, “So shall ours be forever.” “Come, let me bless you my children,” and the Major’s wife slipped a hand into one hand of each, and drew them closer. Robert’s eyes lit up; his brave mouth was smiling quietly, while dimples broke out on Cherokee’s face. “I trust the dark is all behind, the light before, and that you are at the threshold of a great, enduring happiness--but remember that Time will touch you as your joy has done, but his fingers will weigh more heavily--it is then that you must cling all the closer.” CHAPTER XII. SUNLIGHT. The marriage was to be celebrated in two weeks. Cherokee had too much common sense to wish an elaborate wedding, when it would necessitate more means than she possessed. The Major and his wife, who was the personification of lovable good nature, considered together, and graciously agreed to extend to Robert, for these two weeks, the hospitality of their roof. What a sweetly good wife the Major had! The graces of her person corresponded to the graces of her mind. The beauty of her character found a fitting symbol in the sweet, gentle face--the refined, expressive mouth, that gave out wise counsel to Cherokee, in whom she felt so deep an interest.