ustic hand upon you."

"She is not silly, conceited, nor countrified," said George, slowly
raising his beautiful eyes to the young girl half reproachfully. "It is
I who am all that. No, she is right, and you know it."

Much as Christie admired and valued her sister's charms, she thought
this was really going too far. What had Jessie ever done--what was
Jessie--to provoke and remain insensible to such a blind devotion as
this? And really, looking at him now, he was not so VERY YOUNG for
Jessie; whether his unfortunate passion had brought out all his latent
manliness, or whether he had hitherto kept his serious nature in the
background, certainly he was not a boy. And certainly his was not a
passion that he could be laughed out of. It was getting very tiresome.
She wished she had not met him--at least until she had had some clearer
understanding with her sister. He was still walking beside her, with his
hand on her bridle rein, partly to lead her horse over some boulders in
the trail, and partly to conceal his first embarrassment. When they had
fairly reached the woods, he stopped.

"I am going to say good-by, Miss Carr."

"Are you not coming further? We must be near Indian Spring, now; Mr.
Hall and--and Jessie--cannot be far away. You will keep me company until
we meet them?"

"No," he replied quietly. "I only stopped you to say good-by. I am going
away."

"Not from Devil's Ford?" she asked, in half-incredulous astonishment.
"At least, not for long?"

"I am not coming back," he replied.

"But this is very abrupt," she said hurriedly, feeling that in some
ridiculous way she had precipitated an equally ridiculous catastrophe.
"Surely you are not going away in this fashion, without saying good-by
to Jessie and--and father?"

"I shall see your father, of course--and you will give my regards to
Miss Jessie."

He evidently was in earnest. Was there ever anything so perfectly
preposterous? She became indignant.

"Of course," she said coldly, "I won't detain you; your business must
be urgent, and I forgot--at least I had forgotten until to-day--that
you have other duties more important than that of squire of dames. I am
afraid this forgetfulness made me think you would not part from us in
quite such a business fashion. I presume, if you had not met me just
now, we should none of us have seen you again?"

He did not reply.

"Will you say good-by, Miss Carr?"

He held out his hand.

"One moment, Mr. Kearney. I