"Yes, yes, you know I love you; you know I'll be glad to be always near you," she cried, flinging her arms about his neck; then hiding her face on his breast in a burst of passionate weeping, "But why do you and mother have secrets from me, family secrets, as if I were not worthy to be trusted?" "Ah, my little sister, be content with your ignorance!" he said in moved tones, drawing her closer to him. "Can you doubt that we love you well enough to tell you all if it would add to your happiness?" "But I want to know," she sobbed. "If there is trouble or sorrow I ought to bear my share. Do you think I could be so selfish as not to prefer to do it?" "No, dear sister, I believe you bear a very unselfish love to your mother and brother, and, therefore, I am sure you will not distress them by refusing to trust to their judgment of what is best in regard to those things. Believe me, the knowledge you crave could bring you nothing but grief and anguish. It is all it has brought me. The day may come when you must be told, but do not try to hasten it. I can be here but a short time to arrange matters for mother and you, and while I stay let us try to be happy." "Oh yes, yes!" she cried, clinging to him and weeping afresh. "Kenneth, Kenneth, why can't we have you always? I'll try to be content not to know anything; but just tell me one thing: Why do you search for a white woman among the Indians? I've learned from some of your letters about your long journeys in the wilderness, why are you so anxious to find her, so grieved when you fail? Surely I may know that, may I not?" He considered a moment. "Yes," he sighed, "if you insist upon it I will tell you, though I know you will regret having asked, for the knowledge can bring you only sorrow. Shall I tell you?" She gave an eager assent; but at that moment the mother returned to the room, and he whispered in Marian's ear that they would defer it until another time. Some days later, a fitting opportunity presenting itself, she hastened to claim the fulfilment of his promise; but when he answered the question she burst into bitter weeping, crying as she clung about his neck, "Oh, Kenneth, Kenneth, why did you tell me, why did I ask? I wish I had not!" and he had much ado to comfort her. CHAPTER XII. The episode of the mad cat had given a severer shock to Nell's nerves than she was at all aware of at the time. The joy and the new-born hope that sprang to life within her in meeting that look of ineffable tenderness in Kenneth's eyes buoyed her up at first, but the news of his sudden departure, leaving neither note nor message for her, was a heavy blow, and brought on the natural reaction from the excitement of her struggle with the rabid animal.