he next moment she
laughed in the pride of a mother's heart.

"My beautiful young hunter! My boy has slain a deer!" she exclaimed,
recollecting that in the direction whence the shot proceeded Cyrus had
gone to the chase.

She waited a reasonable time to hear her son's light step bounding over
the rustling leaves to tell of his success. But he did not immediately
appear; and she sent her cheerful voice among the trees in search of
him.

"Cyrus! Cyrus!"

His coming was still delayed; and she determined, as the report had
apparently been very near, to seek for him in person. Her assistance,
also, might be necessary in bringing home the venison which she
flattered herself he had obtained. She therefore set forward, directing
her steps by the long-past sound, and singing as she went, in order
that the boy might be aware of her approach and run to meet her. From
behind the trunk of every tree, and from every hiding-place in the
thick foliage of the undergrowth, she hoped to discover the countenance
of her son, laughing with the sportive mischief that is born of
affection. The sun was now beneath the horizon, and the light that came
down among the leaves was sufficiently dim to create many illusions in
her expecting fancy. Several times she seemed indistinctly to see his
face gazing out from among the leaves; and once she imagined that he
stood beckoning to her at the base of a craggy rock. Keeping her eyes
on this object, however, it proved to be no more than the trunk of an
oak fringed to the very ground with little branches, one of which,
thrust out farther than the rest, was shaken by the breeze. Making her
way round the foot of the rock, she suddenly found herself close to her
husband, who had approached in another direction. Leaning upon the butt
of his gun, the muzzle of which rested upon the withered leaves, he was
apparently absorbed in the contemplation of some object at his feet.

"How is this, Reuben? Have you slain the deer and fallen asleep over
him?" exclaimed Dorcas, laughing cheerfully, on her first slight
observation of his posture and appearance.

He stirred not, neither did he turn his eyes towards her; and a cold,
shuddering fear, indefinite in its source and object, began to creep
into her blood. She now perceived that her husband's face was ghastly
pale, and his features were rigid, as if incapable of assuming any
other expression than the strong despair which had hardened upon them.
He gave not