e
were bent down almost out of reach. But he reached them; and
Elizabeth was obliged to take her answer, in which there was
as much of gentle forgiveness and promise as of affection.

"You see what you have to expect, if you talk to me in this
strain," said he lightly. "I think I shall not be troubled
with much more of it. I don't like to leave you in this frame
of mind. I would take you to Mountain Spring in the boat -- if
I could bring you back again."

"I could bring myself back," said Elizabeth. They were going
down the hill; in the course of which, it may be remarked,
Winthrop had no reason to suppose that she once saw anything
but the ground.

"I am afraid you are too tired."

"No indeed I am not. I should like it -- if there is time."

"Go in less time that way than the other."

So they presently reached the lower ground.

"Do you want anything from the house?" said Winthrop as they
came near it.

"Only the oars -- If you will get those, I will untie the
boat."

"Then I'll _not_ get the oars. I'll get them on condition that
you stand still here."

So they went down together to the rocks, and Elizabeth put
herself in the stern of the little boat and they pushed off.

To any people who could think of anything but each other,
October offered enough to fill eyes, ears, and understanding;
that is, if ears can be filled with silence, which perhaps is
predicable. Absolute silence on this occasion was wanting, as
there was a good deal of talking; but for eyes and
understanding, perhaps it may safely be said that those of the
two people in the Merry-go-round took the benefit of
_everything_ they passed on their way; with a reduplication of
pleasure which arose from the throwing and catching of that
ball of conversation, in which, like the herb-stuffed ball of
the Arabian physician of old, -- lay perdu certain hidden
virtues, of sympathy. But Shahweetah's low rocky shore never
offered more beauty to any eyes, than to theirs that day, as
they coasted slowly round it. Colours, colours! If October had
been a dyer, he could not have shewn a greater variety of
samples.

There were some locust trees in the open cedar-grown field by
the river; trees that Mr. Landholm had planted long ago. They
were slow to turn, yet they were changing. One soft feathery
head was in yellowish green, another of more neutral colour;
and blending with them were the tints of a few reddish soft-
tinted alders below. That group was