Jeanne stopped dismayed, and then sank down at the foot of a tall pine. A feeling of homesick desolation crept over her, filling her with vague, undefined forebodings. The tall long-leaved pines and funereal cypress trees rose on either side. The twilight deepened into night and the hum of Nature's wildwood insects came to her ear. From the deeper forest came the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill. As the darkness deepened the hooting of the owls could be heard and the croaking of some frogs from a near-by swamp.
Jeanne felt cold chills creep up and down her back as the tall trees festooned with gray moss, almost reaching to the ground, swayed to and fro as a shiver of moaning wind stirred the air.
"I cannot stay here," she exclaimed springing to her feet. "It is better to keep on walking. Surely there must be a house somewhere near!"
And so, though she was faint from hunger and weary from walking, she trudged on. Presently the moon came up and deluged the forest with a shining flood of light. The dark pines, half in shadow, half in sheen, loomed vast and giant-like on either side of the gleaming path beneath.
Afraid to stop and rest, Jeanne walked on and on. All at once she heard singing. The sound filled her with new life and she hastened eagerly in its direction. Louder and louder came the melody to her ears until presently she was able to distinguish the words:
"'Do they miss me at home, Do they miss me? 'Twould be an assurance most dear, To know at this moment some lov'd one Were saying, "I wish he were here"; To feel that the group at the fireside Were thinking of me as I roam; Oh, yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure To know that they miss me at home, To know that they miss me at home.'"
Tears rushed into the girl's eyes and a sob broke from her lips. "Do they miss me, I wonder?" she said brokenly. "Oh, mother, mother! How little do you think that I am wandering about in the woods without a place to lay my head. Mother, mother!"
"'Do they set me a chair near the table, When evening's home pleasures are nigh, When the candles are lit in the parlor, And the stars in the calm, azure sky? And when the good-nights are repeated, And all lay them down to their sleep, Do they think of the absent and waft me A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep? A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep?'"