Still smiling she said more softly, and it seemed to me almost teasingly, "Art strong enough to stand a great surprise?" To which I replied boastfully, "After such a night of surprises can I endure anything." With that she took me lightly by the arm and led me into the shadow of those dark pines and when in the very midst of them, I saw what appeared to me like one of the cone-shaped houses of poles covered with skins the red men are wont to live in, only this one was larger than any I had ever seen before and so hidden by the enfolding branches of the pines that one might have passed it within a few feet even in daylight without knowing there were human habitation nigh. "See," said Sister Genoveva, "this is the vile retreat of her whom thou callest the witch. 'Tis substantial, I assure thee; 'twill not vanish into the air." And then, as she stepped down and lifted aside a flap that gave entrance to the structure, the moonlight shining through the opening fell full upon the form of some one lying within, seemingly asleep, just beyond the glowing embers of a bright fire that spread a soothing warmth throughout the rude dwelling. As I hung back, not knowing but that I was under some spell of the witch and that all this enchantment would be my undoing, Sister Genoveva assured me of herself by pushing me forward gently, saying, "'Tis not she whom thou hast frightened away by thy unseemly screeching," and as I still hung back for--I say it to my great shame--I feared perhaps the witch had changed herself into the form of our sister to lure me to my destruction, our sister said to me mockingly, "Surely a fighting man like thee is not afraid!" With that I stepped forward with a brave showing, for the man that can endure being called coward by woman is beyond recall. But then as my feet sank into the soft floor--for it seemed thickly strewn with the skins of wild animals--the prostrate form moved uneasily and murmured weakly, "Genoveva," and before she could hold me back I flung myself down beside my boy, calling to him like one crazy with joy, "Sonnlein! God be praised for his mercy!" forgetting the witch and Sister Genoveva, knowing only that in his wonderful way he had brought me back to my own again. Best of all he knew me and though I feared the shock of my sudden coming might increase his illness he soon drove away my fears by saying, with such simple faith, and the tenderness illness often brings even to men, as made me more wickedly vain than ever, "I knew thou wouldst come." Much had we to say to each other after all our grievous trials, for Sonnlein would talk against all the admonishing from Sister Genoveva, and once when she insisted more firmly than before that he cease talking and go to sleep he retorted softly, slyly winking at me--though I detest winking--"Surely thou art not going to scold me ere we are married?"