“Thank Heaven!” he added, in a low tone, as he embraced her fervently, and half carried her within the cabin. For a moment Irene was totally overcome; the great strain which her system had undergone now suffered a reaction, and she was as weak and helpless as a child. There seemed an utter _abandonment_ about her which made her a dead weight in Kingman’s arms: not a dead weight, either, but a live one, and for that matter our hero felt perfectly willing that it might be thus for any length of time. He brushed the dark curls from her forehead, and kissing it ardently, drew her head down upon his shoulder, where for a few moments the sobs came without restraint. But she shortly recovered herself, and he allowed her to withdraw herself from his arms and seat herself beside him. “What made you remain so long away?” she asked, with a deep, yearning look which Kingman felt. “I could not help it.” “Could not help it? Why not? Were you hurt?” “A little; not much, but so much that we could not travel fast without danger.” “Was Moffat injured?” “Not in the least; and had it not been for him, it is doubtful whether you would ever have seen me again.” “Oh, George, you do not know how many times I did think so! Mother and father and your folks all thought you must have been killed. Captain Parks said you were not, and Mr. Edwards believed you would yet return to us. I prayed that you might, and yet it did not seem that you,—I am so glad!” and she gave one of those soulful glances that it made Kingman blush at his own happiness. “I thought perhaps you might think rather strange of my absence”—— “Rather _strange_,” she interrupted, with a reproving look. Kingman drew her head over upon his shoulder, and pressed her ardently to him. She sprang to her feet. “I must look upon you again,” she laughed, “for it seems hardly possible that you are really here now. Yes; I believe it is George Kingman, after all.” “And as I have some doubt of the truth of my eyes, permit not only to look upon you, but to taste you,” added Kingman, rising and imprinting a kiss upon her burning cheek. “There, that will do! Now tell me where you have been all this time. But does any one else know you have returned?” “Does any one else know I have returned? A fine question to ask when I have been in the village three or four hours.” “That time? Impossible! What have you been doing?” “Circulating among the neighbors. Moffat and I have been here a long time. I went home and the folks acted crazy. I thought mother _would_ go demented. I never knew she thought so much of me before. As luck would have it, Captain Parks was in, and he made a great time.” “Very glad to see you of course?”