ped for
a long ecclesiastical chat. But, after a moment, he took up with good
grace the secondary subject of the mountains, and talked very well about
them. With the exception of the relationship to the Bishop, he, with
the courtesy of the South, did not ask his guest a single question:
Stephen could have been a peddler, a tenor-singer, a carpet-bag
politician, or a fugitive from justice, with perfect safety, as far as
questions were concerned.

Honor said nothing. It was refreshing to be with a girl who did not want
to go anywhere or do anything. She had really asked him to come, then,
merely to please the old Colonel. A girl of gold. But, alas! the girl of
gold proved herself to be of the usual metal, after all; for, when half
an hour had passed, she deliberately proposed to her uncle that she
should take their visitor up the hill to see the view. Now, Stephen had
been taken numerous times in his life to see views; the trouble was that
he always looked directly at the real landscape, whatever it was, and
found a great deal to say about it, to the neglect of the view nearer
his side. He did not think it necessary now to play his usual part of
responsive politeness to this little country-girl's open manoeuvre; he
could go if she insisted upon it, he supposed. So he sat looking down at
the brim of his hat; but noted, also, that even the Colonel seemed
surprised. Honor, however, had risen, and was putting on her ugly little
bonnet; she looked quietly determined. Stephen rose also, and took leave
formally; he would go homeward from the hill. They started, he by this
time weary of the whole State, and fast inclining toward departure early
the next morning.

He did not say much to her, or look at her; but, in truth, the path
through the corn was too steep and narrow for conversation: they were
obliged to walk in single file. When they had reached the summit, and
Stephen was gathering together his adjectives for his usual
view-remarks, he turned toward his companion, and was surprised to see
how embarrassed she appeared; he began to feel interested in her
again--interested in her timid, dark eyes, and the possibilities in
their depths. She was evidently frightened.

"If," she commenced once, twice--then faltered and stopped.

"Well?" said Stephen encouragingly: after all, she was very young.

"If you intend to stay in Ellerby any length of time--do you?"

"I really have not decided," said Stephen, relapsing into coolnes