"Tell her," he said; "but then let it rest between us until I come back."
"That would be best, and now I must go."
"Yes, but a moment, Pearl. Long ago, the day after we landed, a sad and friendless man, I walked out to the river and washed away my cares in the blessed waters. On my return, I sat on this very log, and talked to some woodmen, and asked the name of a modest flower. They said, 'We call it the Quaker lady.' And to think that just here I should find again, my Quaker lady."
"But I am not a Quaker lady. I am a naughty 'Separatist,' as Friends call it. Come, I must go, René. I shall say good-by to thee to-night. Thou wilt be off early, I do suppose. And oh, it will be a weary time while thou art away!"
"I shall be gone by six in the morning."
"And I sound asleep," she returned, smiling. He left her at the roadside with Nanny, and, mounting, rode away.