were perhaps not clearly disentangled.
At all events he had no desire to multiply words, and turned off.

"So, he has spoken, has he!" said Colonel Rye, coming up. "Like a bear,
I dare say. Why do you think I didn't fight him, Endecott?"

A smile came over Mr. Linden's face then--bright and stirred.

"I think, sir, you yielded to Mignonette's power, as I did long ago."

"You?--Did he?" said the Colonel, turning.--"No, sir; never!" said
Faith, laughing and blushing till her cheeks were brilliant. The
Colonel smiled at her.

"My dear," said he, "you conquered me! and I don't believe any other
man more invincible than myself. Is this your horse? No, Motley; no,
George; she is going to have an old cavalier for her ride home."

And much to Faith's pleasure, so she had.

CHAPTER XLVII.

October's foliage had lost its distinct red and purple and brown, and
had grown merely sunburnt; but the sky overhead still kept its
wonderful blue. Down the ravines, over their deep shadow, October
breathed softly; up the mountain road, past grey boulders and primeval
trees and wonderful beds of moss, went the stage waggon. The travellers
were going by a somewhat long and irregular route, first up one of the
great highways, then across to that spur of the mountains where they
were to live. Mrs. Derrick was to follow in a few weeks with Mr.
Stoutenburgh.

It was late and dusky when the stage waggon transferred the travellers
to Mr. Olyphant's carriage, which was waiting for them at a certain
turn of the road. Mr. Olyphant himself was there, with extra wrappings
for Faith; and muffled in them she sat leaning in the corner of the
carriage, tired enough to make the rest pleasant, awake enough to hear
the conversation; feeling more like a bird than ever, with that
unwonted night air upon her face, and the wild smell of woods and
evergreens and brooks floating about her.

At Mr. Olyphant's they were received with warm wood fires and excellent
supper, the welcome spending itself in many other ways. But though Mr.
Linden did take her to the door for one minute to hear a pouring
mountain torrent, she could see nothing that night. The stars overhead
were brilliant, the dark hill outline dim--the rushing of that
stream--how it sounded! Faith's whisper was gleeful.

"Endy, I can't see much, but it feels lovely! I am so glad to be here!"

The morning was wonderful. Such a sunlight, such an air, such
rejoicings of birds and brook and