“Wouldn’t ride with me, I dare say,” interrupted Maggie; to which he replied, “I presume not,” adding, as he saw slight indications of pouting, “And therefore I am glad you are Maggie Miller, and not Hagar’s grandchild.”

Mentally pronouncing him a “proud, hateful thing,” Maggie rode on a while in silence.  But Mr. Carrollton knew well how to manage her, and he too was silent until Maggie, who could never refrain from talking any length of time, forgot herself and began chatting away as gayly as before.  During their excursion they came near to the gorge of Henry Warner memory, and Maggie, who had never quite forgiven Mr. Carrollton for criticising her horsemanship, resolved to show him what she could do.  The signal was accordingly given to Gritty, and ere her companion was aware of her intention she was tearing over the ground at a speed he could hardly equal.  The ravine was just on the border of the wood, and without pausing for an instant Gritty leaped across it, landing safely on the other side, where he stopped, while half fearfully, half exultingly, Maggie looked back to see what Mr. Carrollton would do.  At first he fancied Gritty beyond her control, and when he saw her directly over the deep chasm he shuddered, involuntarily stretching out his arms to save her; but the look she gave him as she turned around convinced him that the risk she had run was done on purpose.  Still he had no intention of following her, for he feared his horse’s ability as well as his own to clear that pass.

“Why don’t you jump?  Are you afraid?” and Maggie’s eyes looked archly out from beneath her tasteful riding cap.

For half a moment he felt tempted to join her, but his better judgment came to his aid, and he answered:  “Yes, Maggie, I am afraid, having never tried such an experiment.  But I wish to be with you in some way, and as I cannot come to you I ask you to come to me.  You seem accustomed to the leap!”

He did not praise her.  Nay, she fancied there was more of censure in the tones of his voice; at all events, he had asked her rather commandingly to return, and she “wouldn’t do it.”  For a moment she made no reply, and he said again, “Maggie, will you come?” then half playfully, half reproachfully, she made answer, “A gallant Englishman indeed! willing I should risk my neck where you dare not venture yours.  No, I shan’t try the leap again to-day, I don’t feel like it; but I’ll cross the long bridge half a mile from here—­good-by;” and fully expecting him to meet her, she galloped off, riding ere long quite slowly, “so he’d have a nice long time to wait for her!”

How, then, was she disappointed, when, on reaching the bridge, there was nowhere a trace of him to be seen, neither could she hear the sound of his horse’s footsteps, though she listened long and anxiously!