"I will not leave you, Gabrielle, until you are with your friends."
"Why, why? Mon Dieu, why not?"
"Because I love you, Gabrielle."
Gabrielle paused for a moment, on tiptoe, like a frightened deer; and then sprang away, and went on with incredible swiftness up the hill; then along a level place for a while; then down another slope; winding about in a maze of trees and rocks, hills and valleys; but all the time keeping, as she thought, the same general direction toward the place where her friends had set their camp.
An hour later Gabrielle found herself standing on the crest of a hill looking down upon a lake that shimmered in the sunshine, with tiny waves that sparkled like a cluster of diamonds set in emeralds. It was Lac des Isles, no doubt, where they had camped the night before. But where was the camp? And where were the islands? There was but one island to be seen; and no camp at all--only a cabin half hidden in the trees below. Yet the place was strangely familiar. What? Where could it be? Was it possible?
Gabrielle turned in dismay, and there was Jean standing beside her.
"Monsieur Giroux, Jean, what is this? Where am I?"
"This is Lac Desir, Gabrielle, and you are with one who loves you, dear."
Gabrielle looked up with a wistful smile.
"Are you sure, Jean, that you love me as much as you love the lake, for example; or the forest?"