Betty," responded Carrington. Unfavorable as had
been his original estimate of the judge's character, events had greatly
modified it.

"He really seems quite sure, doesn't he?" said Betty.

"There's not a doubt in his mind," agreed Carrington.

He was still at Belle Plain, living in what had been Ware's office,
while the Cavendishes were domiciled at the big house. He had arranged
with the judge to crop a part of that hopeful gentleman's land the very
next season; the fact that a lawsuit intervened between the judge and
possession seemed a trifling matter, for Carrington had become infected
with the judge's point of view, which did not admit of the possibility
of failure; but he had not yet told Betty of his plans. Time enough for
that when he left Belle Plain.

His silence concerning the future had caused Betty much thought. She
wondered if he still intended going south into the Purchase; she was not
sure but it was the dignified thing for him to do. She was thinking of
this now as they went forward over the rustling leaves, and at length
she turned in the saddle and faced him.

"I am going to miss Hannibal dreadfully--yes, and the judge, and Mr.
Yancy!" she began.

"And when I leave--how about me, Betty?" Carrington asked unexpectedly,
but he only had in mind leaving Belle Plain.

A little sigh escaped Betty's red lips, for she was thinking of the
Purchase, which lay far down the river, many, many miles distant. The
sigh was ever so little, but Carrington had heard it.

"I am to be missed, too, am I, Betty?" he inquired, leaning toward her.

"You, Bruce?--Oh, I shall miss you, too--dreadfully--but then, perhaps
in five years, when you come back--"

"Five years!" cried Carrington, but he understood, something of what
was passing in her mind, and laughed shortly. "Five years, Betty?" he
repeated, dwelling on the numeral.

Betty hesitated and looked thoughtful. Presently she stole a
surreptitious glance at Carrington from under her long lashes, and went
on slowly, as though she were making careful choice of her words.

"When you come back in three years, Bruce--"

Carrington still regarded her fixedly. There was a light in his black
eyes that seemed to penetrate to the most secret recesses of her heart
and soul.

"Three years, Betty?" he repeated again.

Betty, her eyes cast down, twisted her rein nervously between her slim,
white fingers, but Carrington's steady glance never left her sweet face,
frame