wberry patch and the woody walls
were a few shades deeper coloured than they had been; while
over the river, on the other side, the steep rocks of the home
point sent back a warm glow yet. The hills beyond them stood
in the sun, and in close contrast was the little deep green
patch of fore-ground, lit up with the white or the gay dresses
of the strawberry pickers. The sweet river, a bit of it, in
the middle of the picture, half in sunshine, half in shade. It
was like a little nest of fairy-land; so laughed the sunshine,
so dwelt the shade, in this spot and in that one. Elizabeth
stood fast. It was bewitching to the eyes. And while she
looked, the shadow of Wut-a-qut-o was creeping over the river,
and now ready to take off the warm browns of the rocky point.

She was thinking it was bewitching, and drinking it in, when
she felt two hands clasp her by the waist, and suddenly,
swiftly, without a word of warning, she was swung off, clear
to another rock about two yards distant, and there set down,
"all standing." In bewildered astonishment, that only waited
to become indignation, she turned to see whom she was to be
angry with. Nobody was near her but Winthrop, and he had
disappeared behind the rock on which she had just been
standing. Elizabeth was not precisely in a mood for cool
judgment; she stood like an offended brood-hen, with ruffled
feathers, waiting to fly at the first likely offender. The
rest of the party began to draw near.

"Come Lizzie, we're going home," said her cousin.

"I am not," said Elizabeth.

"Why?"

"Because I am not ready."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing -- only I am not ready."

"The sun's out of Bright Spot now, Miss Haye," said Rufus,
with a somewhat mischievous play of feature.

Elizabeth was deaf.

"Winthrop has killed a rattlesnake!" exclaimed Asahel from the
rock; -- "Winthrop has killed a rattlesnake!"

And Winthrop came round the bushes bringing his trophy; a
large snake that counted nine rattles. They all pressed round,
as near as they dared, to look and admire; all but Elizabeth,
who stood on her rock and did not stir.

"Where was it? where was it?" --

"When I first saw him, he was curled up on the rock very near
to Miss Haye, but he slid down among the bushes before I could
catch him. We must take care when we come here now, for the
mate must be somewhere."

"_I'll_ never come here again," said Miss Cadwallader. "O come!
-- let us go!"

"Did _you_ move me?" sa