"You may bring me a loaf of fresh bread and a quart of milk, if it will not be too much trouble. You will find a tin measure for the milk on the shelf."
"Here it is, sir."
"Very well."
"If you would like something nourishing—some meat, for instance—I can get my mother to cook you some," continued Mark.
"Not to-day. Another day I may avail myself of your kind offer. You are very kind—to a poor recluse."
"I am afraid you don't pass a very pleasant life," said Mark. "I should be miserable if I lived alone in the woods, like you."
"No doubt, no doubt. You are young and life opens before you bright and cheerful. As for me, I have lived my life. For me no prospect opens but the grave. Why, indeed, should I seek to prolong this miserable life?"
Mark hardly knew how to answer him. He could not enter into the old man's morbid feelings.
"I will be back soon," he said as he left the cabin.