418 WILD SrORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



conscious of the sleeper. Around the room were scat- 

 tered many a memento of the maiden's former life — skins, 

 and sketches, and Indian ornaments, the little indications 

 of tasteful womanhood that make a house retain the 

 image of the owner even after the owner may have gone 

 to the house not made with hands. 



Something disturbed the sleeper, her lips moved, and 

 her regular breathing was stopped. She drew her white 

 shoulders under the cover. The dream within her was 

 strong, for her color changed, and a short, quick-drawn 

 breath heaved her bosom, her eye half unclosed, and she 

 seemed to see Mike standing in her room by the window, 

 with his cap in his hand and his rifle on his arm. She lay 

 still with her body, though her thoughts recovered their 

 intensity in a second, and gathered up the past like a gar- 

 ment. The old days came back to her as they trooj) past 

 a person in a fever, and woods and water, the moving 

 sea, danger and childish fancies. Her life had nurtured 

 her originally bold imagination until it ran wild, and her 

 reason then made her control herself until she appeared 

 to strangers to maintain a stoical reserve. Years agone 

 she had sat by Mike, with her hand on his knee, listenuig 

 to his wild tales, like Desdemona, " still questioning him 

 the story of his life." As she grew older she drew the 

 hand away, yet listened still, or counted the times and 

 seasons of his coming and going. Older still she grew, 

 and the distance between her and a mere scout became 

 perceptible to her mind, and then pride came, doubt of 

 herself, and experience, and she drew back ; drew back 



