"Her conduct, however, has been too violent to admit of justification. You appear to have been unfortunate in your sweethearts--with each in an opposite sense. One loves you too much, and the other apparently not enough! But how is it you did not see her again--Marian I mean!" "Well, you understand, I wan't on the best of tarms wi' old Hick Holt, an' couldn't go to his clarin'. Besides after what had happened. I didn't like to go near Marian anyhow--leastway for a while. I thort it would blow over 's soon's she'd find out that E war only jokin' wi' the Injun." "So one would have supposed." "'Twar nigh two weeks afore I heerd anything o' her; then I larned that she war gone away. Nobody could tell why or whar, for nobody knew, 'ceptin Hick Holt hisself; an' he ain't the sort o' man to tell saycrets. Lord o' mercy! I know _nowt_ an' it's worse than I expected. I'd sooner heerd she war dead." A deep-drawn sigh, from the very bottom of his soul, admonished me that the speaker had finished his painful recital. I had no desire to prolong the conversation. I saw that, silence would be more agreeable to my companion; and, as if by a mutual and tacit impulse, we turned our horses' heads to the path, and proceeded onward across the glade. As we were about entering the timber on the other side, my guide reined up his horse; and sat for a moment gazing upon a particular spot--as if something there had attracted his attention. What? There was no visible object--at least, none that was remarkable-- on the ground, or elsewhere! Another sigh, with the speech that followed, explained the singularity of his behaviour, "Thar!" said he, pointing to the entrance of the forest-path--"thar's the place whar I last looked on Marian!" CHAPTER SIXTEEN. A PREDICAMENT IN PROSPECT. For half a mile beyond the glade, the trace continued wide enough to admit of our riding abreast; but, notwithstanding this advantage, no word passed between us. My guide had relapsed into his attitude of melancholy--deepened, no doubt, by the intelligence he had just received--and sat loosely in his saddle, his head drooping forward over his breast. Bitter thoughts within rendered him unconscious of what was passing without; and I felt that any effort I might make to soften the acerbity of his reflections would be idle.