, unconscious archness: "I'm not hiding because
I'm afraid of him. I'm doing it just because I want to."

She did not know that the fresh happiness flushing her at that moment
came from the fact of having Hilary between herself and her father as a
protector; that she was drinking in the delight a woman feels in getting
playfully behind the man she loves in the face of danger: but her action
bound her to him and brought her more under his influence.

His words showed that he also felt his position,--the position of the
male who stalks forth from the herd and stands the silent challenger. He
was young, and vain of his manhood in the usual innocent way that led
him to carry the chip on his shoulder for the world to knock off; and
he placed himself before Daphne with the understanding that if they were
discovered, there would be trouble. Her father was a violent man, and
the circumstances were not such that any Kentucky father would overlook
them. But with his inward seriousness, his face wore its usual look of
reckless unconcern.

"Is he coming this way?" asked Daphne, after an interval of impatient
waiting.

"Straight ahead. Are you hid?"

"I can't see whether I'm hid or not. Where is he now?"

"Right on us."

"Does he see you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he sees me?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then I might as well get up," said Daphne, with the courage of despair,
and up she got. Her father was riding along the path in front of them,
but not looking. She was down again like a partridge.

"How could you fool me, Hilary? Suppose he _had_ been looking!"

"I wonder what he thinks I'm doing, sitting over here in the grass like
a stump," said Hilary. "If he takes me for one, he must think I've got
an awful lot of roots."

"Tell me when it's time to get up."

"I will."

He turned softly toward her. She was lying on her side, with her burning
cheek in one hand. The other hand rested high on the curve of her hip.
Her braids had fallen forward, and lay in a heavy loop about her lovely
shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her scarlet lips parted in a smile. The
edges of her snow-white petticoats showed beneath her blue dress, and
beyond these one of her feet and ankles. Nothing more fragrant with
innocence ever lay on the grass.

"Is it time to get up now?"

"Not yet," and he sat bending over her.

"Now?"

"Not yet," he repeated more softly.

"Now, then?"

"Not for a long time."

His voice thrilled her, and she g