he nor Martha dared
countenance dancing, they had strolled away together under the pines
that lined the white road, whiter now in the soft moonlight. He had
never known the pine-cones smell so sweet before in all his life. She
had never known just how the moonlight flecked the road before. This
was lovers' lane to them. He didn't understand why his heart kept
throbbing so furiously, for they were walking slowly, and when a
shadow thrown across the road from a by-standing bush frightened her
into pressing close up to him, he could not have told why his arm
stole round her waist and drew her slim form up to him, or why his
lips found hers, as eye looked into eye. For their simple hearts
love's mystery was too deep, as it is for wiser ones.

Some few stammering words came to his lips, and she answered the best
she could. Then why did the moonlight flood them so, and why were the
heavens so full of stars? Out yonder in the black hedge a mocking-bird
was singing, and he was translating--oh, so poorly--the song of their
hearts. They forgot the dance, they forgot all but their love.

"An' you won't ma'y nobody else but me, Martha?"

"You know I won't, Gidjon."

"But I mus' wait de yeah out?"

"Yes, an' den don't you think Mas' Stone'll let us have a little cabin
of ouah own jest outside de quahtahs?"

"Won't it be blessid? Won't it be blessid?" he cried, and then the
kindly moon went under a cloud for a moment and came out smiling, for
he had peeped through and had seen what passed. Then they walked back
hand in hand to the dance along the transfigured road, and they found
that the first part of the festivities were over, and all the people
had sat down to supper. Every one laughed when they went in. Martha
held back and perspired with embarrassment. But even though he saw
some of the older heads whispering in a corner, Gideon was not
ashamed. A new light was in his eyes, and a new boldness had come to
him. He led Martha up to the grinning group, and said in his best
singing voice, "Whut you laughin' at? Yes, I's popped de question, an'
she says 'Yes,' an' long 'bout a yeah f'om now you kin all 'spec' a'
invitation." This was a formal announcement. A shout arose from the
happy-go-lucky people, who sorrowed alike in each other's sorrows, and
joyed in each other's joys. They sat down at a table, and their
health was drunk in cups of cider and persimmon beer.

Over in the corner Mam' Henry mumbled over her pipe, "Wha'd I