d her pony away from the opening of the avenue, and
slowly passed along a narrow road through her father's grounds.

There is often a revelation in disappearance, as there is a light in
darkness. Scarcely had he lost sight of the lady rider than Cary felt an
irresistible impulse to meet her and discover who she was. Now that she
was gone, the suspicion arose again that perhaps she was the loved one
whom he sought. Had he frightened her? That was not probable from the
ease and deliberation of her manner. Would he catch another glimpse of
her? He felt that that depended entirely on himself, and he determined
that if he did see her again, the sight would be a decisive one. He
paused a moment longer before making up his mind what to do. He thought
of opening the gate, sauntering up the avenue and turning down the path
which she had taken. But the trespass on private property, and the fear
of being stopped at the mansion to make explanations, deterred him from
taking the step. He judged it wiser to spur up the main road and trust
to luck. Perhaps he might find an outlet for that bridal path whence she
would issue. In this surmise he was not mistaken. After riding about
half a mile he came to the mouth of a rugged, unfrequented country
road, the bed of which was moist from the ooze of rills on one of its
banks. Here he stopped and reconnoitred with the keen eye of the
soldier. To his surprise and delight he observed the fresh prints of
pony's hoofs leading outward. He was satisfied that she had gone along
this route, and pursued her journey further up the highway. The course
was therefore clear for him. All he had to do was to follow, and he did
so without delay.

Meantime the afternoon had worn on, and the sun was slowly sinking to
the rim of the sky. There was the promise of a full hour of daylight
yet, but the air was getting chilly and banks of pinkish clouds
spreading fan-like in the western heavens gave portent of wind and
storm. For a whole hour did Cary Singleton ride along that solitary
road, watching the line of forest on his right and the steep embankment
of the river on his left. But he heard nothing save the low lapsing
sound of the water, and the monotonous simmer of the trees. He saw
nothing that could divert his attention from the one object of his
search. A fear came over him that his pursuit would be in vain. He was
already far away from quarters and, without special cause, could not
well prolong his absenc