Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with eagerness she said,

“Roger, my bundle is ready.  I prepared it last night—­and it is under the bed.”

He held her more closely.

“And you are willing to go with me—­anywhere?”

“Yes, anywhere.”

“To the end of the earth?”

Her crumpled head nodded against his breast.

“And leave Father John?”

“Yes, for you.  But I think—­sometime—­he will come to us.”

Her fingers touched his cheek.

“And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part of the world, Roger”

“Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us,” he laughed happily.

“I’d love the desert, Roger.”

“Or an uninhabited island?”

Against him her head nodded again.

“I’d love life anywhere—­with you.”

“Then—­we’ll go,” he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of the joy that was consuming him like a fire.  And then he went on, steadying his voice until it was almost cold.  “But it means giving up everything you’ve dreamed of, Nada—­these forests you love, Father John, Yellow Bird, Sun Cloud—­”

“I have only one dream,” she interrupted him softly.

“And five years will pass very quickly,” he continued.  “Possibly it will not be as bad as that, and afterward all this land we love will be free to us forever.  Gladly will I remain and take my punishment if in the end it will make us happier, Nada”

“I have only one dream,” she repeated, caressing his cheek with her hand, “and that is you, Roger.  Where-ever you take me I shall be the happiest woman in the world.”

“Woman,” he laughed, scarcely breathing the word aloud.

“Yes, I am a woman—­now”

“And yet forever and ever the little girl of Cragg’s Ridge,” he cried with sudden passion, crushing her close to him.  “I’d lose my life sooner than I would lose her, Nada—­the little girl with flying hair and strawberry stain on her nose, and who believed so faithfully in the Man in the Moon.  Always I shall worship her as the little goddess who came down to me from somewhere in heaven!”

Yet all through that day, as they waited for Father John’s return, he saw more and more of the wonder of woman that had come to crown the glory of Nada’s wifehood, and his heart trembled with joy at the miracle of it.  There was something vastly sweet in the change of her.  She was no longer the utterly dependent little thing, possibly caring for him because he was big and strong and able to protect her; she was a woman, and loved him as a woman, and not because of fear or helplessness.  And then came the thrilling mystery of another thing.  He found himself, in turn, beginning to depend upon her, and in their planning her calm decision and quiet reasoning strengthened him with new confidence and made his heart sing with gladness.  With his eyes on the smooth and velvety coils of hair which she had twisted woman-like on her head, he said,