s it is
far, far away, so remote and mysterious that I wonder if it is ever to
come back and smile again."

"Have you ever seen the sunrise from its peak?" said Austen.

"No. Oh, how I should love to see it!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, you would like to see it," he answered simply. He would like to
take her there, to climb, with her hand in his, the well-known paths in
the darkness, to reach the summit in the rosy-fingered dawn: to see her
stand on the granite at his side in the full glory of the red light, and
to show her a world which she was henceforth to share with him.

Some such image, some such vision of his figure on the rock, may have
been in her mind as she turned her face again toward the mountain.

"You are cold," he said, reaching for the mackintosh in the back of the
trap.

"No," she said. But she stopped the horse and acquiesced by slipping her
arms into the coat, and he felt upon his hand the caress of a stray wisp
of hair at her neck. Under a spell of thought and feeling, seemingly laid
by the magic of the night, neither spoke for a space. And then Victoria
summoned her forces, and turned to him again. Her tone bespoke the subtle
intimacy that always sprang up between them, despite bars and
conventions.

"I was sure you would understand why I wrote you from New York," she
said, "although I hesitated a long time before doing so. It was very
stupid of me not to realize the scruples which made you refuse to be a
candidate for the governorship, and I wanted to--to apologize."

"It wasn't necessary," said Austen, "but--I valued the note." The words
seemed so absurdly inadequate to express his appreciation of the treasure
which he carried with him, at that moment, in his pocket. "But, really,"
he added, smiling at her in the moonlight, "I must protest against your
belief that I could have been an effective candidate! I have roamed about
the State, and I have made some very good friends here and there among
the hill farmers, like Mr. Jenney. Mr. Redbrook is one of these. But it
would have been absurd of me even to think of a candidacy founded on
personal friendships. I assure you," he added, smiling, "there was no
self denial in my refusal."

She gave him an appraising glance which he found at once enchanting and
disconcerting.

"You are one of those people, I think, who do not know their own value.
If I were a man, and such men as Mr. Redbrook and Mr. Jenney knew me and
believed sufficiently in me and