Turning back, she looked thoughtfully at the cabin, then said, “Dan, will you help me bar the door that no wild creature can get in? The windows were long ago boarded up. The old Ute shall have it for his tomb.”
When this was done, a solemn group of young people rode away. Meg said little, and Dan, riding at her side, understood her thoughtfulness. When the Abbott cabin was reached, Meg said goodbye to the friends who were to remain there, but Dan insisted upon accompanying her to her home.
When they were quite alone the lad rode close to her, and placed a hand on hers as he said, “Meg, dear, how much, how very much this means to you.”
Such a wonderful light there was in the dusky eyes that were lifted to his. “O, Dan, now I can feel that I have a right to accept your friendship; yours and Jane’s.” But with sincere feeling the lad replied: “It is for your sake only that I am glad. Your parentage mattered not at all to me, nor, of late, has it to Jane.” Then, although Dan had not planned on speaking so soon, he heard himself saying: “Meg, you are all to me that my most idealistic dreams could picture for the girl I would wish to marry. Do you think that some day you might care for me if I regain my health and am able to make a home for you?”
There was infinite tenderness in the dark eyes, but the girl shook her head. “Your companionship means very much to me, Dan, but I must teach. I want to care for the two old people who took me in out of the storm and who have given me all that I have had.”
“You shall, dearest girl. That is, we shall, if you will let me help you.”
Then before Meg could refuse, Dan implored, “Don’t answer me yet. I can wait if you will try to love me.” They had reached the cabin and saw Ma Heger, wiping sudsy hands on her apron, hurrying out to greet them. Dan detained the girl. “Promise me that you will try to care,” he pleaded. “I won’t have to try,” she said, then turned to greet the angular woman who had been the only mother she had ever known.
CHAPTER XXXII.
HUNTING FOR THE BOX
Jean Sawyer, troubled indeed, because Jane Abbott continued to avoid him, changed his plan and decided not to remain at the cabin until late afternoon; and so, bidding them goodbye, he went down the road toward Redfords, leading the string of horses. The other young people climbed the stone stairway.
“Oh, Jane, what a perfectly adorable place,” Merry exclaimed when the door had been unlocked and the young people had entered the long rustic living-room. “I like it so much better than those elaborately furnished cottages at Newport. They are too much like our own homes, but this cabin savors of camping out. It’s a wonderful spot for a real vacation.”