she stole looks at him of wonder, admiration, and the deepest love.

As they had nothing now to argue about, they only spoke a few words at a
time, but these were all musical with love.

To them, as we dramatists say, entered Mrs. Easton, with signs of hurry.

"Miss Mary--" said she.

"Mrs. Mary," suggested Walter, meekly.

Mrs. Mary blew him a kiss.

"Ay, ay," said Mrs. Easton, smiling. "Of course you will both hate me,
but I have come to take you home, Mistress Mary."

"Home!" said Mary; "why, this feels like home."

"No doubt," said Mrs. Easton, "but, for all that, in half an hour we
must start."

The married couple remonstrated with one accord, but Mrs. Easton was
firm. "I dreamed," said she, "that we were all found out--and that's a
warning. Mr. Walter, you know that you'll be missed at Clifford Hall, and
didn't ought to leave your father another day. And you, Miss Mary, do but
think what a weight I have taken upon my shoulders, and don't put off
coming home, for I am almost shaking with anxiety, and for sure and
certain my dream it was a warning, and there's something in the wind."

They were both so indebted to this good woman that they looked at each
other piteously, but agreed. Walter rang the bell, and ordered the
four-wheeler and his own nag.

"Mary, one little walk in that sweet garden."

"Yes, dear," said Mary, and in another moment they were walking in the
garden, intertwined like the ivy and the oak, and purring over their
present delights and glowing prospects.

In the mean time Mrs. Easton packed up their things: Walter's were
enrolled in a light rug with straps, which went upon his saddle. They
left the little inn, Mary driving. When they had gone about two miles
they came to cross-roads.

"Please pull up," said Mrs. Easton; then turning to Walter, who was
riding ridiculously close to Mary's whip hand, "Isn't that the way to
Clifford Hall?"

"It's one way," said he; "but I don't mean to go that way. How can I?
It's only three miles more round by your house."

"Nurse," said Mary, appealingly.

"Ay, ay, poor things," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, well, don't loiter,
anyway. I shall not be my own woman again till we're safe at the farm."

So they drove briskly on, and in about an hour more they got to a long
hill, whence they could see the Gilberts' farm.

"There, nurse," said Mary, pouting a little, "now I hope you're content,
for we have got safe home, and he and I shall not have a hap