“But with the discovery of the secret comes the discovery that I love you, with my whole heart and soul. I feel that my future is to be linked with yours; if I could know this minute that we were to be separated, I would want to die. Let me pledge my love to you and receive yours--or the promise of it at some future time, and then we will turn to the great future that opens before us. We are both young yet. Everybody persists in calling me a boy, and I suppose I am, but it can’t last much longer. If my life is spared, no one can hinder me from becoming a man, and you are younger yet than I, and we shall only think of marriage as something that is to come after awhile. Sometime, when every thing is ready, I shall wed you--you shall be my bride of the wilderness. What do you say, Little Rifle? Are you prepared to give me any encouragement?” It would seem all natural and proper that this wooing and winning should have reached its successful conclusion at once--that the beautiful forest girl should have acknowledged her love at once, and confessed that her future would be hopeless unless it echoed back the prayer of her ardent lover. But, she was truthful, and possessed rare good sense. Loving old Robsart had given her the clothes of a hunter to wear, as soon as she was able to go about, and had carefully concealed the knowledge of her sex from those with whom they happened to come in contact. This undoubtedly was wise, as it saved her from annoying attentions and perhaps insult at the hands of the rough borderers, who occasionally saw her; but the old mountaineer had given her, after his own peculiar fashion, considerable knowledge of “society” and its usages. And then her own instinctive maidenly sense told her that she had no means of knowing she really returned the love of the noble young fellow at her side. Gratitude and friendship she knew entered into her emotions, but she could not feel positive that there was any thing more. She spoke, therefore, as her conscience dictated: “I do not know that I understand what love is--that is, as you look upon it.” She spoke in a low, soft, but unhesitating manner, with her eyes still upon the ground. “I know that I think a great deal of you--that I would risk my life at any time to keep you from harm. I am so fond of you, indeed, that I can not deceive you by saying that I love you, when I am not sure about it.” This was disappointing to Harry, but, as a moment’s reflection revealed to him the admirable spirit which prompted it, he could but respect and love her all the more. “I was wrong in pressing you to answer such a question, before you had time to think over it. Let it go for the present, and I will wait until you are fully ready. But I can not deny myself asking one thing more.” He paused a moment as if waiting for permission, and she raised her wonderfully handsome eyes and looked in his face. “What I want to ask, Little Rifle, is whether you are willing to give me a promise?”