Life did not bring her joy.

She was very tired.
She used to say that after her soul had fled, if I would lay her here, perhaps the big roots would reach down and find her, and from her frail frame gather slight nourishment and then her body would live again in talking leaves that would shelter me in summer and whisper her love in winter.

Of all Medicine Woods this is the dearest spot to me.

Can you love it too, Ruth ?" "Oh I can!" cried the Girl; "I do now! Just to see the place and hear that is enough.

I wish, oh to my soul I wish----" "You wish what ?" whispered the Harvester gently.
"I dare not! I was wild to think of it.