“You will do as security,” she said.

Was it the old mountain talking again; or was it the break in her voice?  Their eyes met.  He had slipped from his horse.

“Don’t,” she cried averting her eyes with a tremor in her voice.  “I couldn’t bear This to be of Self!  If I were a man, you’d shake hands with me and call it a bargain.  Look Dick!  We’re in the light of the Cross!  Shake hands with me!  Is it a bargain?”

His hands closed over both of hers.  There were tears in his eyes.  He did not break out with any of the wild terms that had clamored and clamored for utterance these weeks past.  He did not say any of the things that men and women say at such times in books and plays.  They paused so, she on horseback, he standing at her side, on the crest of the Ridge gazing down on the Valley in the light of the Cross.

“So my old Mountain is talking to you, too?” she said.  “Do you remember, Dick?”

“It’s so God-blessed beautiful, Eleanor,” he answered.  “I can’t thank you!  If I lived a thousand years, I couldn’t live out my thanks.  I could only put up a bluff of trying.”

“Dick the nth,” she laughed whimsically, “Dick the nth for the United States of the World.”

Suddenly he looked up at her.  The lashes did not veil quick enough.  He caught the veil wide open.  He had thought he knew before.  Now, he knew that he had but touched the outer margin of her love, of the wealth of her nature, of the reach and grasp of her spirit.  She felt the grip of the strong hands closed over hers.

“Mine alder-liefest,” he whispered in the old clean unused phrase.

“Is it a bargain?”

“Bargain?” repeated Wayland.

Then, they both laughed.  She had him at such an obvious disadvantage.  I do not intend to tell how far the afternoon shadows had stretched out when Eleanor exclaimed with a jump; “Dick:  the buckboard is out of sight.”  I do not think either of them as lovers of horses ever offered adequate reason for having ridden their bronchos such a hard pace up grade the last ten miles that the ponies came down the Ridge to the Valley road a lather of sweat.

“You are sure,” he had asked as they came out of the evergreens, “that you’ll never regret?”

“Mr. Matthews intended to leave to-morrow, Dick.  Do you think you could persuade him to stay over a day?”

It was Mrs. Williams who sensed something unusual as the ponies came down one of the by-paths from the Ridge.

“My dear, look at their faces!  I do believe it has!” Then to Eleanor, “Will you come in the rig?  Are you tired?”

“I think I shall,” said Eleanor.

“You’ve ridden y’r nags uncommon hard, Wayland,” observed Matthews.

Eleanor had ascended to the back seat.  Wayland had tied the bridle rein of her horse to the rear and was riding abreast of the front seat.

“I wish you could make it convenient to put off your departure for a day or two,” began Wayland, very red.