d still-gleaming flood: the light of day changed
to one unfathomed, possible, as of sweet, unspoken dreams becoming
blessed at nightfall.

Then all at once, round and full above a distant hill-top, rose the
hoyden moon, and the Basins saluted her with shouts of natural delight,
all save Vesty and I, who were silent.

Now, I saw, was the hour when each Basin put his arm about his girl. I
could not have touched my girl, not under all the rollicking moonbeams
that ever fired the heart of youth and man. Farther she seemed to me
than that far white hill-top, glittering and high.

Yet it pierced me that it was a gloomy ride for her. "It was good and
kind of them," I said, "to place a poor old fellow like me here beside
you; but you should have one of those rosy, handsome lads with you; you
so young, though we forget it. Your life is yet to live."

At the reproach in her eyes--a look of anger, too, but for its wild and
dark distress--my heart had almost leaped to my lips.

But--too merry the rollickers, who had fallen behind us, driving on the
homeward road; there had been several laughing, reckless adventures of
overturned herring-boxes in the snow-drifts; now the pole attached to
one of these had broken; the frightened horses had cleared themselves
and were veering madly on the narrow road, with the swinging cross-bar,
toward that side of the sled where my girl sat, unconscious of the
danger, still and pale.

I sprang, fell in a heap, but rose again somehow; and now at last I put
up my arm. It was not without strength--in this case more than mortal
strong--still, in the end, I fell.

When I came to myself we were still flying through the wild,
swift-changing scene, homeward bound; one of my hands was numb, and my
wrist bandaged, and my head--was on Vesty's shoulder! We were in right
Basin fashion now, only by needs it was Vesty's arm that was about me.

"Am I dead, Vesty?" said I, half believing it in my bliss; besides, I
had ever a great appreciation of the Irish humor.

"Oh, don't, major; don't!" said Vesty; "you saved me from getting
terribly hurt, they say--or----"

"Ugh!" I groaned.

"Your poor arm!" said she. "Oh, the pain!"

"Nothing pains me," said I.

"Your arm wasn't broken, major; but it 's terribly bruised and
sprained."

"And my neck, Vesty--you are sure that was not broken?"

She sighed, but since I was bent, she followed my humor.

"Never fear," said this demure young woman; "that 's