And at the thought that he might not see her again, an odd fear gripped
his heart. His thoughts were interrupted by a low, musical laugh; and he
sprang to his feet, to search the glade with careful eyes.
"Come out," he cried, as though adjuring an invisible spirit. "I know you
are here; come out."
With another laugh, she stepped from behind the trunk of one of the
largest trees, within a few feet of where he stood. As she went toward
him, she carried in her outstretched hands a graceful basket, woven of
sycamore leaves and ferns, and filled with the ripest sweetest
blackberries. She did not speak as she held out her offering; but the man,
looking into her laughing eyes, fancied that there was a meaning and a
purpose in the gift that did not appear upon the surface of her simple
action.
Expressing his pleasure, as he received the dainty basket, he could not
refrain from adding, "But why do you bring me things?"
She answered with that wayward, mocking humor that so often seized her;
"Because I like to. I told you that I always do what I like--up here in
the mountains."
"I hope you always will," he returned, "if your likes are all as delicious
as this one."
With the manner of a child playfully making a mystery yet anxious to have
the secret discussed, she said, "I have one more gift to bring you, yet.
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