htful!"

"--and if you won't turn round, I shall have to follow you on horseback;
I shouldn't have a clear conscience otherwise."

"Oh, have a clear conscience, by all means."

But she did not long like this arrangement; the sound of another horse
behind made Madam Giron's horse restless, so that she could not keep the
reins lying idle, as she liked.

"Let your horse go, and come and drive me," she said.

"Let him go? Where?"

"Home, I suppose."

"He wouldn't go; he's an animal of intelligence, and of course has
observed that he could lead a nomadic life here perfectly, with constant
summer, and water, and--but I can't say much for the grass. I think,
however, that I can arrange it so that he shall not trouble you." And
dismounting, he changed and lengthened some straps; then seating
himself in the phaeton beside her, he took the reins, his own horse
trotting along docielly at his side of the phaeton, fastened by a long
line.

"It's caravanish," said Garda. "But I'll allow it because I want you to
drive; it's more amusing than driving myself."

"More lazy, you mean."

"Yes; I ran away to be lazy."

"For a variety?"

She did not take this up, but, leaning back still further, half closed
her eyes.

"Have you often been out in this way on the barrens, driving yourself?"
he went on.

"This is the first time I have ever driven--on the barrens or anywhere
else."

"Yet you come out alone, and with this restless horse! I never knew you
to do such a thing before."

"That only shows how short a time you have known me; I always like to do
things I have never done before."

The phaeton rolled on towards the west--on and on, as she would not let
him turn. But he did not wish to turn now; they had reached a part of
the barren which he had not visited, though he had ridden to much
greater distances both towards the north and the south. Here were wider
pools; and here also was a sluggish narrow stream; far off on the left
rose the long dark line of the great cypresses on the edge of a swamp.
The sluggish stream at length crossed their road, or rather their road
essayed to cross the sluggish stream; but the dark water looked deep,
there were no tracks of wheels on the little descent to show that any
one had tried the ford lately--say within the last twenty years.
Winthrop hesitated.

"Go on," said Garda.

"But I might have to swim with you to the other shore."

"Nothing I should like better."

"To see me s