In his heart he prayed that she was many days down the Athabasca, for it was there--and only there--that he would ever see her again.

And his greatest desire, next to his desire for his freedom, was to find her.
He was frank with himself in making that confession.

He was more than that.

He knew that not a day or night would pass that he would not think or dream of Marette Radisson.

The wonder of her had grown more vivid for him with each hour that passed, and he was sorry now that he had not dared to touch her hair.