Albert conducted Mary Erskine and Mary Bell—­for Mary Bell had come in with them to see the fire,—­to a little eminence from which they could survey the whole scene.

“Look,” said he, “is not that beautiful?  Did you ever see a better burn?”

“I don’t know much about burns,” said Mary Erskine, “but I can see that it will be a beautiful place for a farm.  Why we can see the pond,” she added, pointing toward the south.

This was true.  The falling of the trees had opened up a fine view of the pond, which was distant about a mile from the clearing.  There was a broad stream which flowed swiftly over a gravelly bed along the lower part of the ground, and a wild brook which came tumbling down from the mountains, and then, after running across the road, fell into the larger stream, not far from the corner of the farm.  The brook and the stream formed two sides of the clearing.  Beyond them, and along the other two sides of the clearing, the tall trees of those parts of the forest which had not been disturbed, rose like a wall and hemmed the opening closely in.

Albert and Mary Erskine walked along the road through the whole length of the clearing, looking out for the best place to build their house.

“Perhaps it will be lonesome here this winter, Mary,” said Albert.  “I don’t know but that you would rather wait till next spring.”

Mary Erskine hesitated about her reply.  She did, in fact, wish to come to her new home that fall, and she thought it was proper that she should express the cordial interest which she felt in Albert’s plans;—­but, then, on the other hand, she did not like to say any thing which might seem to indicate a wish on her part to hasten the time of their marriage.  So she said doubtfully,—­“I don’t know;—­I don’t think that it would be lonesome.”

“What do you mean, Albert,” said Mary Bell, “about Mary Erskine’s coming to live here?  She can’t come and live here, among all these black stumps and logs.”

Albert and Mary Erskine were too intent upon their own thoughts and plans to pay any attention to Mary Bell’s questions.  So they walked along without answering her.

“What could we have to do this fall and winter?” asked Mary Erskine.  She wished to ascertain whether she could do any good by coming at once, or whether it would be better, for Albert’s plans, to wait until the spring.

“Oh there will be plenty to do,” said Albert.  “I shall have to work a great deal, while the ground continues open, in clearing up the land, and getting it ready for sowing in the spring; and it will be a great deal better for me to live here, in order to save my traveling back and forth, so far, every night and morning.  Then this winter I shall have my tools to make,—­and to finish the inside of the house, and make the furniture; and if you have any leisure time you can spin.  But after all it will not be very comfortable for you, and perhaps you would rather wait until spring.”