Chrissy was evidently oblivious to the presence of anyone, and started when George suddenly remarked:
"Pardon me, Miss Chrissy, if I intrude upon the sacredness of your meditations, but I understand you are going to leave us to-morrow. We may not meet again, for you will be shut up within the cloistered walls yonder and I shall be leaving in the spring for the great unknown land. I shall have cause to thank God through all eternity for your visit I am grateful, deeply grateful, for the loving interest you have manifested in my welfare, and I cannot part with you, dear Chrissy, without giving some expression of the intense love I have for you. It would be heaven begun on earth if I might only be permitted to walk life's pathway with you; but, alas! I am not in a position to offer you a home. I am not one of those white-shirt-fronted gentlemen such as we frequently meet with here, but, thank God, I can now offer you a heart that is white, a life that is pure. Life in the woods has rubbed off any of the veneer or polish that I may have brought with me from the Old Land, and I am just as you see me, Chrissy, a plain, rough man from the wilds of the West. Notwithstanding which, could you not give me a pledge that some time, somewhere, I may claim you as my own?"
For a moment Chrissy said nothing, but the expression of her face was more eloquent than any words. Her breast heaved with emotion as she said, slowly and calmly:
"I am convinced that such a union as you propose would be founded upon the only true basis, a mutual love for Christ. Unions such as this have only their beginning here; their full fruition is in eternity."
In a moment he was at her feet, and, pressing her hand to his lips, he poured forth expressions of happy gratitude to the Giver of all good.
To her lover she seemed as she stood before him an incarnation of love, of beauty, of goodness and grace, more like something belonging to another world—a subject of a higher power.
CHAPTER VI.
GAY VOYAGEURS.
1805.
The river was scarcely free from ice-floes when Chrissy was summoned to the bedside of her mother, who had been hovering between life and death for several weeks. Weary and worn with nervous apprehension and the strain of the long and perilous journey, she entered the sick-room. The flickering light from the hearth fell upon the white face of the mother whom she loved as only a mother could be loved. She was sleeping soundly. Bending over her she laid her cool hand on the fevered brow, when the poor sufferer opened her eyes, but was too weak to speak. She smiled faintly, and again fell into a deep sleep. Through the long watches of the night, and oft through the day, she sat gazing at the sleeping form, inwardly praying that she might not be taken from them, that their home might not be left desolate.