“That’s just it, Mabel, that’s just it.  These speeches and opinions, spoken in so soft a voice, and in a way I’m so unused to in the woods, have done the mischief.  But I now see plainly, and begin to understand the difference between us better, and will strive to keep down thought, and to go abroad again as I used to do, looking for the game and the inimy.  Ah’s me, Mabel!  I have indeed been on a false trail since we met.”

“In a little while you will forget all this, and think of me as a friend, who owes you her life.”

“This may be the way in the towns, but I doubt if it’s nat’ral to the woods.  With us, when the eye sees a lovely sight, it is apt to keep it long in view, or when the mind takes in an upright and proper feeling, it is loath to part with it.”

“You will forget it all, when you come seriously to recollect that I am altogether unsuited to be your wife.”

“So I told the Sergeant; but he would have it otherwise.  I knew you was too young and beautiful for one of middle age, like myself, and who never was comely to look at even in youth; and then your ways have not been my ways; nor would a hunter’s cabin be a fitting place for one who was edicated among chiefs, as it were.  If I were younger and comelier though, like Jasper Eau-douce —­ "

“Never mind Jasper Eau-douce,” interrupted Mabel impatiently; “we can talk of something else.”

“Jasper is a worthy lad, Mabel; ay, and a comely,” returned the guileless guide, looking earnestly at the girl, as if he distrusted her judgment in speaking slightingly of his friend.  “Were I only half as comely as Jasper Western, my misgivings in this affair would not have been so great, and they might not have been so true.”

“We will not talk of Jasper Western,” repeated Mabel, the color mounting to her temples; “he may be good enough in a gale, or on the lake, but he is not good enough to talk of here.”

“I fear me, Mabel, he is better than the man who is likely to be your husband, though the Sergeant says that never can take place.  But the Sergeant was wrong once, and he may be wrong twice.”

“And who is likely to be my husband, Pathfinder!  This is scarcely less strange than what has just passed between us.”

“I know it is nat’ral for like to seek like, and for them that have consorted much with officers’ ladies to wish to be officers’ ladies themselves.  But, Mabel; I may speak plainly to you, I know; and I hope my words will not give you pain; for, now I understand what it is to be disappointed in such feelings, I wouldn’t wish to cause even a Mingo sorrow on this head.  But happiness is not always to be found in a marquee, any more than in a tent; and though the officers’ quarters may look more tempting than the rest of the barracks, there is often great misery between husband and wife inside of their doors.”

“I do not doubt it in the least, Pathfinder; and, did it rest with me to decide, I would sooner follow you to some cabin in the woods, and share your fortune, whether it might be better or worse, than go inside the door of any officer I know, with an intention of remaining there as its master’s wife.”