not ten minutes before, to ascertain the
name of the pretty black-eyed woman seated at his left hand; and the
consciousness of so great a curiosity gratified, may have augmented his
unaccustomed embarrassment. Certain it is, Sam Rice had driven six
horses, on a ticklish mountain road, for four years, without missing a
trip; and had more than once encountered the "road-agents," without ever
yet delivering them an express box; had had old and young ladies, plain
and beautiful ones, to sit beside him, hundreds of times: yet this was
the first time he had consulted the way-bill, on his own account, to
find a lady's name. This one time, too, it had a _Mrs._ before it, which
prefix gave him a pang he was very unwilling to own. On the other hand,
Mrs. Dolly Page was clad in extremely deep black. Could she be in
mourning for Mr. Page? If Demon had an unusual number of starting fits
that afternoon, his driver was not altogether guiltless in the matter;
for what horse, so sensitive as he, would not have felt the magnetism of
something wrong behind him?

But as the mocking eyes kept hidden behind a veil, and the rich, musical
voice uttered not a word through a whole half-hour, which seemed an age
to Sam, he finally recovered himself so far as to say he believed he
would not smoke, after all; and thereupon returned the cigar, still
unlighted, to his pocket.

"I hope you do not deprive yourself of a luxury on my account," murmured
the soft voice.

"I guess this dust and sunshine is enough for a lady to stand, without
my smokin' in her face," returned Sam, politely, and glancing at the
veil.

"Still, I beg you will smoke, if you are accustomed," persisted the
cooing voice behind it. But Sam, to his praise be it spoken, refused to
add anything to the discomforts of a summer day's ride across the
mountains. His chivalry had its reward; for the lady thus favored,
feeling constrained to make some return for such consideration, began to
talk, in a vein that delighted her auditor, about horses--their points
and their traits--and, lastly, about their drivers.

"I have always fancied," said Mrs. Dolly Page, "that if I were a man I
should take to stage-driving as a profession. It seems to me a free and
manly calling, one that develops some of the best qualities of a man. Of
course, it has its drawbacks. One cannot always choose one's society on
a stage, and there are temptations to bad habits. Besides, there are
storms, and upsets, and