age I saw there, as if it had been no faithful reflection of myself,
but a travesty, cunningly made of enamelled clay or some other material,
and put there by some malicious enemy to mock me.

CHAPTER XXI

Many days had passed since the hut was made--how many may not be known,
since I notched no stick and knotted no cord--yet never in my rambles in
the wood had I seen that desolate ash-heap where the fire had done its
work. Nor had I looked for it. On the contrary, my wish was never to see
it, and the fear of coming accidentally upon it made me keep to the old
familiar paths. But at length, one night, without thinking of Rima's
fearful end, it all at once occurred to me that the hated savage whose
blood I had shed on the white savannah might have only been practicing
his natural deceit when he told me that most pitiful story. If that were
so--if he had been prepared with a fictitious account of her death to
meet my questions--then Rima might still exist: lost, perhaps, wandering
in some distant place, exposed to perils day and night, and unable to
find her way back, but living still! Living! her heart on fire with
the hope of reunion with me, cautiously threading her way through the
undergrowth of immeasurable forests; spying out the distant villages
and hiding herself from the sight of all men, as she knew so well how
to hide; studying the outlines of distant mountains, to recognize some
familiar landmark at last, and so find her way back to the old wood once
more! Even now, while I sat there idly musing, she might be somewhere
in the wood--somewhere near me; but after so long an absence full of
apprehension, waiting in concealment for what tomorrow's light might
show.

I started up and replenished the fire with trembling hands, then set the
door open to let the welcoming stream out into the wood. But Rima had
done more; going out into the black forest in the pitiless storm, she
had found and led me home. Could I do less! I was quickly out in the
shadows of the wood. Surely it was more than a mere hope that made my
heart beat so wildly! How could a sensation so strangely sudden, so
irresistible in its power, possess me unless she were living and near?
Can it be, can it be that we shall meet again? To look again into your
divine eyes--to hold you again in my arms at last! I so changed--so
different! But the old love remains; and of all that has happened
in your absence I shall tell you nothing--not one word; all s