desire to be tucked under the same bearskin. It was a
pleasure to Roger Stanley to ask Miss Walden to keep him company.

"They have decided, Mr. Walden, that we shall sit together," Miss
Newville said as she stepped into the pung.

"I shall regard it an honor to have your company," was the reply.

When all were ready, the horses set the sleigh-bells jingling. Farmers
plodding home from the market gave them the road, and smiled as they
listened to the merry laughter. They went at a brisk trot over the
Neck leading to Roxbury, and turned to the left, taking the Dorchester
road. At times the horses came to a walk, but at a chirrup from Robert
quickened their pace, the colt throwing snowballs into Miss Newville's
face.

"You must excuse him, Miss Newville; he is young, and has not learned
to be polite," Robert said, apologizing for the animal.

They gained the highlands of Dorchester, from whence they could
overlook the harbor and its islands, and see the lighthouse rising
from its rocky foundation, with the white surf breaking around it. A
ship which had left Charles River with the ebbing tide had reached
Nantasket Roads, and was spreading its sails for a voyage across the
sea.

"So the Berinthia will soon be sailing," said Miss Newville, "and we
shall all want to keep track of her; and whenever we read of her
coming and going we shall all recall this delightful day, made so
enjoyable for us this morning by Berinthia and so charming this
afternoon by your kindness."

She turned her face towards Robert. The afternoon sun was illumining
her countenance. He had seen in Mr. Henchman's bookstall a beautiful
picture of a Madonna. Mr. Knox told him it was a steel engraving from
a picture painted by the great artist Raphael, and Robert wondered if
the countenance was any more lovely than that which looked up to him
at the moment.

They were riding towards the Milton Hills. The woodman's axe had left
untouched the oaks, elms, maples, and birches; they were leafless in
midwinter, but the pines and hemlocks were green and beautiful upon
its rocky sides. The purple sky, changing into gold along the western
horizon, the white robe of winter upon hill and dale, the windows of
farmhouses reflecting the setting sun, made the view and landscape of
marvelous beauty. Descending the hill, they came to the winding
Neponset River, and rode along its banks beneath overhanging elms. The
bending limbs, though leafless, were beautiful in