s now since
yesterday morning, he found himself listening for hoofbeats--listening
for the returning man of science who would bring a message of caution
from the fountain head of Sunlight Patch; and, in this humor of
expectancy, wandered out to the grouped chairs to be alone.

At half after three o'clock Brent came softly from the house, mounted
his horse and started at a very slow walk around the tanbark circle.
During this stealthy advance he watched with affectionate care to see
that nothing disturbed the old gentleman, whose chin some time before
had sunk peacefully to his breast. Still on the lookout for Stone, still
vigilant and faithful to the interest of his mountain friend and guest,
the Sunday afternoon nap of many years' indulgence had crept into his
brain to claim its own.

For the first two or three miles after he and Jane turned out of Flat
Rock their spirited animals were allowed to toss their heads and go for
the pure joy of going. Mac dashed on in front, using every ounce of his
sinew to keep that position. They were following the same lane, the same
tangled aisle of rioting vines which he had one day likened to his
life--a life in which his gardener had since been conscientiously
employed.

She knew how conscientiously. Had Uncle Zack not daily poured it into
Aunt Timmie's ears, still would she have known by a more convincing
sense. She knew just when the gardener had entered the woods and
pastures of his imaginings, cutting out the poison-ivy and pruning good
things for greater promise. She had watched this with secret exultation;
it hovered near her pillow in the nights, and touched her lips with song
at waking time.

They reached the chapel and entered without a word. But on the
threshold--where upon that other Sunday he had asked if this miracle
might be performed for her sake and she had answered: "for your
own!"--his eyes looked seriously, deeply, down at her. She knew they
were speaking for him, and while the service was in progress she
wondered over and over if hers had answered.

Neither of these worshippers, who forgot to worship, was in a mood for
talking as they came out and rode slowly home along the lane. Its
evening peace seemed to be a continuance of the chapel's calm. The sun
was low--balancing, as a red ball, on the hazy, distant hilltops. In
three and a half minutes it would be down, leaving them in an afterglow
of exquisite softness and touching the partially clouded western s