Margery followed with a light, impatient step; and, as neither stopped to speak or to look around, the two soon stood beneath the tree in question.  It was a large elm that completely overshadowed a considerable extent of firm ground.  Here a full and tolerably near view could be had of the hut, which was still illuminated by the blazing fire within.  For a minute both stood silently gazing at the strange scene; then le Bourdon explained to his companion the manner in which she might assist him.

Once at the elm, it was not so difficult to find the way across the marsh, as it was to reach that spot, coming from the chiente.  As there were several elms scattered about in the centre of the marsh, the bee-hunter was fearful that he might not reach the right tree; in which case he would be compelled to retrace his steps, and that at the imminent hazard of being captured.  He carried habitually a small dark lantern, and had thought of so disposing of it in the lower branches of this very elm, as to form a focus of it, but hesitated about doing that which might prove a guide to his enemies as well as to himself.  If Margery would take charge of this lantern, he could hope to reap its advantages without incurring the hazard of having a light suspended in the tree for any length of time.  Margery understood the lessons she received, and promised to obey all the injunctions by which they were accompanied.

“Now, God bless you, Margery,” added the bee-hunter.  “Providence has brought me and your brother’s family together in troublesome times; should I get back safe from this adventure, I shall look upon it as a duty to do all I can to help Gershom place his wife and sister beyond the reach of harm.”

“God bless you, Bourdon!” half whispered the agitated girl.  “I know it is worth some risk to save a human life, even though it be that of an Injin, and I will not try to persuade you from this undertaking; but do not attempt more than is necessary, and rely on my using the lantern just as you have told me to use it.”

Those young persons had not yet known each other a single day, yet both felt that confidence which years alone, in the crowds of the world, can ordinarily create in the human mind.  The cause of the sympathy which draws heart to heart, which generates friendships, and love, and passionate attachments, is not obvious to all who choose to talk of it.  There is yet a profound mystery in our organization, which has hitherto escaped the researches of both classes of philosophers, and which it probably was the design of the Creator should not be made known to us until we draw nearer to that great end which, sooner or later, is to be accomplished in behalf of our race, when “knowledge will abound,” and we shall better understand our being and its objects, than is permitted to us in this our day of ignorance.  But while we cannot trace the causes of a thousand things, we know and feel their effects.  Among