The man made no response; but sat silently gazing at her face.  In a moment the girl moved softly to his side and took his hand in hers; and so they sat together while the firelight died away and the darkness enveloped them.  But through the darkness the stars beamed mildly, as if they expressed the sweet mercy which the imaginations of men picture as throned above the azure in whose blue field they stand suspended.

What happened farther is known only to Him whose eyes see through all darkness and to whom the night is as the day.

During the night the trapper started suddenly from his sleep.  Was it a woman’s cry he heard?  Was it only such a sound as comes to us at times in dreams?  He listened but heard nothing save the monotonous murmur of the rapids and the equally steady movement of the night breeze stirring through the pine tops.  He listened and, hearing nothing, lay down again and slept.

The morning came,—­came as brightly and cheerfully as if the world knew no sorrow and the men and women in it had no griefs.  The morning came; but before it came, a wing darker than the shadow of the night had passed over the world; for when the trapper and his companion visited the camp beyond the balsam thicket, they found the two lying side by side,—­the girl’s head on the bosom of the man and her right hand lying gently in his; no mark of violence on their bodies; no instrument of death near,—­lying as if they had fallen asleep, the man’s countenance in grave repose, the girl’s blessedly peaceful; no name on either; no scrap of paper that might tell who they might be.  Perhaps the man’s faith was true.  Perhaps the will has power to will itself and all of life there is in us, out of the body.  Be this as it may, the trapper and his companion only saw this:  the unknown man in the prime of his strength lying dead under the pines and the girl in her loveliness lying dead by his side.

[Illustration:  Tail piece]