ismay. Mrs. Harrington laughed with as much meaning as her small share
of intellect could concentrate on one idea, and said in a low voice to
Elsie:

"Did I not tell you they had met before? She has been playing dutiful
like a martyr. See how she breaks out now. Look! look! she is turning
down a cross road; it is a mile farther round."

"We will go on direct," said Elsie. "If my brother's wife chooses to
ride off alone with any man through the woods, let her. It was decided
that we should take the highway, and we will."

Elsie spoke with decision, a cold light came into her blue eyes, and the
expression about her lips was almost stern; for a moment the girl was
transfigured before her friend.

At the cross roads there was a little debate. Miss Jemima turned her
horse in the direction Elizabeth had taken. The generally obedient papa
was following this lead, when Mr. Hawkins was sent forward to arrest
him.

"Straight ahead, that's the programme," he called out, taking the gold
head of his riding-whip from his mouth long enough to speak clearly,
"Miss Elsie told me to call you back."

"And the--the other lady," stammered Rhodes, flushing red, to the
intense scorn of the spinster.

"Oh, she's gone ahead."

"Then I take this way," exclaimed Jemima, with emphasis; "come, pa."

Mr. Rhodes had wheeled his horse half round, and was casting irresolute
looks towards the two ladies riding slowly along the shady road.

"But, daughter, we cannot leave them to ride on alone."

"This--this--person is with them, and they seem to count him as a man,"
answered Jemima, with a gesture of intense scorn.

Mrs. Harrington here was seen to draw up her horse in the shade of a
huge chestnut, and playfully beckon the widower with her whip.

"Jemima, I must. It would be underbred," cried the desperate man, riding
away to the enemy.

Jemima sat upon her horse, petrified with amazement. Her father looked
anxiously back when he reached the widow, with sad forebodings of the
tempest that would follow, but there the spinster sat at the cross roads
like an equestrian statue.

"Come, come," said the widow, touching him playfully with her whip.
"Elsie is getting impatient. Now for a race."

Her spirited horse dashed forward at a run. The ponderous steed of the
widower thundered after, making the forest reverberate with the heavy
fall of his hoofs.

Mr. Hawkins fell into a dainty amble, and away the whole party swept
into the green sha