"Do you see the pines waving, away up there in their tops, and do you hear them talking? They are always talking. To-night they are saying: 'Hush, Belle-Marie; slumber, Belle-Marie; we will watch, we will watch, hush, hush, hush!' Didn't you ever know what the pines said? They wish no one ever to come near Lake Belle-Marie. Well for you that you only sat and looked at the face of Belle-Marie, and cast no line nor fired untimely shot around such shores! The pines would have been angry and would have crushed you. You do not know how they live, seeking only to keep Belle-Marie from the world, standing close and sturdy together and threatening any who approach. It would break their hearts to have her hiding-place found out. You do not know how they love her. The pines are old, old, old, many of them, but they told me that no footprint of man was ever seen upon those shores, that no boat ever rested on that little sea, neither did ever a treacherous line wrinkle even the smallest portion of its smoothest coves. Believe me, to have Belle-Marie known would break the hearts of the pines. They told me they lived all the time only that they might every night sing Belle-Marie to sleep, and every morning look upon her face, innocent, pure, unknown and unknowing, therefore good, sincere and utterly trustworthy. That is why the pines live. That is what they are talking about. In many places I know the hearts of the pines are broken, and they grieve continually. That is because there are too many people. In this valley the pines do not grieve. They only talk among themselves. In the morning they will wave their hands quite gaily and will say: 'Waken, waken, Belle-Marie! Sweet is the day, sweet is the day, God hath given, given, given!' That is what the pines say in the morning. [Illustration] "The white mountains yonder are very old. How strong and quiet they are, and how sure of themselves! To be quiet and strong one needs to be old, for small things do not matter then. Do you know what the mountains think, as they stand there shoulder to shoulder--for they live only to shield and protect the forest, here in the valley. They told me they were thinking of the smallness and the quickness of the days. 'Age unto age!' is what the mountains whisper. 'AEon unto aeon! Strong, strong, strong is Time!' "And yet I knew these mighty pillars stood only to shield the forest which shielded Belle-Marie. So I stood upon the last mountain and looked upon the great blue of the sky, and there again I saw the face of Lake Belle-Marie; and the circle was complete, and I sought no more, for I knew that from the abode of perfect, unhurt nature it is but a step up to the perfect peace and rest of the land where lives that Time whose name the mountains voice in awe.