Meantime John was gazing spellbound at this apparition, which appeared to him charming beyond anything he had ever imagined.  He was so far carried away, that he was quite speechless and wholly oblivious of the toll, until she came up to the side of the horse and held out her hand.  Then he colored, and, with awkward apology, gave her the change.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Nelly smiled sweetly, and was just about to undo the latch of the gate, when John anticipated her by springing from his horse, and laying his powerful brown hand over her small white one, saying,—­

“You can’t do anything with this great, heavy gate.  Stand aside, and let me open it.”

Of course the offer was kindly accepted, and Nelly fairly overwhelmed him with her thanks, being herself somewhat touched by the unusual civility.  John appeared quite overcome with confusion, and, remounting his horse, he rode off with a gruff “Good day.”  However, I fancy, that pleasant voice, and the accidental touch of that little hand, made an impression that never was effaced.

Having thus enslaved John, it was not long before a similar opportunity occurred for captivating James; though it would seem from Nelly’s confessions to her confidante that this was not so easily accomplished with him as with his brother.  The first time she opened the gate for him, he paid but little more heed to her than he would have to her father, and she never considered her conquest complete until one day when Mr. Curtis availed himself of a vacant seat in James’s wagon to get Nelly taken into the village:  that ride, she fancied, insured the wished-for result.  Whether this was a correct supposition or not, certain it is that not many weeks elapsed before both the Blounts were completely fascinated by the gay coquette.

For some time the passion of each brother remained a secret to the other.  Accident revealed it.

One soft summer-evening, John rode down to the village for letters.  As he passed through the toll-gate, he succeeded in making an appointment with Nelly for a walk on his return.  He came back an hour later, and soon after sunset the two strolled down a shady path into the woods.  It was moonlight, and Nelly was doubtless very charming in the mysterious radiance,—­certainly her companion thought so,—­for, when their walk was over, he induced her to sit with him on a fallen log that lay just within the shade of the trees, instead of returning to the house.  They had been chatting there perhaps half an hour, when they were interrupted by the girl the Curtises kept to do “chores.”

“Please, Miss Nelly, there’s a gentleman wants to see you.”

“Very well, tell him I will be there in a moment.”

When the girl was gone, Nelly suddenly exclaimed, rather regretfully,—­

“How stupid of me, not to ask who it was!”

John’s answer is not reported, only that he succeeded in lengthening the “moment” into a quarter of an hour, and then half an hour; and it might, perhaps, have lasted the whole evening, had they not, in the midst of a most interesting conversation, been startled by a rustling in the bushes behind them.