"If we are to begin keeping house up here," he answered cheerfully, "perhaps you had better wait till I build you a table."
"I shall be glad if you can," she said, and watched him curiously while he cut small, straight sticks, and then larger ones with forked ends. These he drove into the ground under a tree, and placing one stout stick to connect each of the forked ones and form supporting ends, laid the others across and close together to make the table. He then placed flat stones for seats, covering them with the carriage cushions, and when all was done he said: "My dear, your table is ready; now I will help you to set it."
"I am glad I brought a tablecloth," she remarked smiling.
When the dainty little banquet board, just large enough for two, was covered with a snow-white spread and napkins, plates, knives and forks, and all the attractive results of her culinary art, he smiled, for the tempting food would make any hungry man smile.
"It's not an elaborate dinner," she remarked, as they sat down, "but you must get used to my cooking some time, and you might as well begin now."
When the sun was low in the west and she sat near him idly weaving flowers into the band of his hat, he said: "Liddy, have you never wondered how I am going to solve the vocation problem I used to worry about?"
"No," she answered quietly, "and I do not wish to discuss it, either. Remember, we are children to-day." Then she continued, in a lower tone: "I have trusted you with my heart, my life, and all the happiness I can ever hope for, and when the time comes I know you will not fail me."
"I realize what it all means," he answered, after a long pause, "and you can trust me, for so long as God gives me strength you shall have all the blessings I can win in life."
They sat in silence until the lowering sun had left the valley in shadow and smiled only on the hilltop where they lingered. Perhaps the dread parting that was near seemed creeping toward them with the shades of night, for his arm stole softly about her waist, and her hand crept into his. They watched until the last ray of sunlight had vanished, and when they arose he once more gathered her close in his arms and whispered:
"Promise me, my darling, that if I never come back you will visit this spot alone, once a year, in June, and if there be such a thing as a life beyond the grave, I will be here in spirit."