Lost in the Backwoods | Page 7

deceived her, and my aunt will be angry and much
alarmed, for she did not know of her going at all. Dear Catharine, good
cousin Hector, pray forgive me!"
But Catharine was weeping too much to reply to his passionate
entreaties; and Hector, who never swerved from the truth, for which he
had almost a stern reverence, hardly repressed his indignation at what

appeared to him a most culpable act of deceit on the part of Louis.
The sight of her cousin's grief and self-abasement touched the tender
heart of Catharine; for she was kind and dove-like in her disposition,
and loved Louis, with all his faults. Had it not been for the painful
consciousness of the grief their unusual absence would occasion at
home, Catharine would have thought nothing of their present adventure;
but she could not endure the idea of her high-principled father taxing
her with deceiving her kind indulgent mother and him. It was this
humiliating thought which wounded the proud heart of Hector, causing
him to upbraid his cousin in somewhat harsh terms for his want of
truthfulness, and steeled him against the bitter grief that wrung the
heart of the penitent Louis, who, leaning his wet cheek on the shoulder
of Catharine, sobbed as if his heart would break, heedless of her
soothing words and affectionate endeavours to console him.
"Dear Hector," she said, turning her soft pleading eyes on the stern face
of her brother, "you must not be so very angry with poor Louis.
Remember it was to please me, and give me the enjoyment of a day of
liberty with you and himself in the woods, among the flowers and trees
and birds, that he committed this fault."
"Catharine, Louis told an untruth, and acted deceitfully. And look at the
consequences: we shall have forfeited our parents' confidence, and may
have some days of painful privation to endure before we regain our
home, if we ever do find our way back to Cold Springs," replied
Hector.
"It is the grief and anxiety our dear parents will endure this night,"
answered Catharine, "that distresses my mind; but," she added, in more
cheerful tones, "let us not despair, no doubt to-morrow we shall be able
to retrace our steps."
With the young there is ever a magical spell in that little word
to-morrow,--it is a point which they pursue as fast as it recedes from
them; sad indeed is the young heart that does not look forward with
hope to the future!

The cloud still hung on Hector's brow, till Catharine gaily exclaimed,
"Come, Hector! come Louis! we must not stand idling thus; we must
think of providing some shelter for the night: it is not good to rest upon
the bare ground exposed to the night dews.--See, here is a nice hut, half
made," pointing to a large upturned root which some fierce whirlwind
had hurled from the lofty bank into the gorge of the dark glen.
"Now you must make haste, and lop off a few pine boughs, and stick
them into the ground, or even lean them against the roots of this old
oak, and there, you see, will be a capital house to shelter us. To work,
to work, you idle boys, or poor wee Katty must turn squaw and build
her own wigwam," she playfully added, taking up the axe which rested
against the feathery pine beneath which Hector was leaning. Now,
Catharine cared as little as her brother and cousin about passing a warm
summer's night under the shade of the forest trees, for she was both
hardy and healthy; but her woman's heart taught her that the surest
means of reconciling the cousins would be by mutually interesting
them in the same object,--and she was right. In endeavouring to provide
for the comfort of their dear companion, all angry feelings were
forgotten by Hector, while active employment chased away Louis's
melancholy.
Unlike the tall, straight, naked trunks of the pines of the forest, those of
the plains are adorned with branches often to the very ground, varying
in form and height, and often presenting most picturesque groups, or
rising singly among scattered groves of the silver-barked poplar or
graceful birch trees; the dark mossy greenness of the stately pine
contrasting finely with the light waving foliage of its slender, graceful
companions.
Hector, with his axe, soon lopped boughs from one of the adjacent
pines, which Louis sharpened with his knife and, with Catharine's
assistance, drove into the ground, arranging them in such a way as to
make the upturned oak, with its roots and the earth which adhered to
them, form the back part of the hut, which when completed formed by
no means a contemptible shelter. Catharine then cut fern and deer grass
with Louis's couteau de chasse,