The program for the afternoon was arranged to the satisfaction of every one.  I gave the coachman, Mike, a dollar to harness the goat and teach the children to drive him; this left me free to drive off without being followed by two small figures and two pitiful howls.

I always believed a horse was infected by the spirit of his driver.  My dear old four-footed military companions always seemed to perfectly comprehend my desires and intentions, and certainly my brother-in-law’s horses entered into my own spirits on this particular afternoon.  They stepped proudly, they arched their powerful necks handsomely, their feet seemed barely to touch the ground; yet they did not grow restive under the bit, nor were they frightened even at a hideous steam road-rolling machine which passed us.  As I drove up to Mrs. Clarkson’s door I found that most of the boarders were on the piazza—­the memories of ladies are usually good at times.  Alice immediately appeared, composed of course, but more radiant than ever.

“Why, where are the boys?” she exclaimed.

“I was afraid they might annoy your mother,” I replied, “so I left them behind.”

“Oh, mother hardly feels well enough to go today,” said she; “she is lying down.”

“Then we can pick up the boys on the road,” said I, for which remark, my enchantress, already descending the steps, gave me a look which the ladies behind her would have given their best switches to have seen.

We drove off as decorously as if it were Sunday and we were driving to church; we industriously pointed out to each other every handsome garden and tasteful residence we passed; we met other people driving, and conversed fluently upon their horses, carriages and dress.  But when we reached the edge of the town, and I turned into “Happy Valley,” a road following the depressions and curves of a long, well-wooded valley, in which there was not a single straight line, I turned and looked into my darling’s face.  Her eyes met mine, and, although they were full of a happiness which I had never seen in them before, they filled with tears, and their dear owner dropped her head on my shoulder.  What we said on that long drive would not interest the reader.  I have learned by experience to skip all love talks in novels; no matter how delightful the lovers may be.  Recalling now our conversation, it does not seem to me to have had anything wonderful it in.  I will only say that if I had been happy on the evening before, my happiness now seemed to be sanctified; to be favored with the love and confidence of a simple girl scarcely past her childhood is to receive a greater honor than court or field can bestow; but even this honor is far surpassed by that which comes to a man when a woman of rare intelligence, tact and knowledge of society and the world, unburdens her heart of all its hopes and fears, and unhesitatingly leaves her destiny to be shaped by his love.  Women like Alice Mayton do not thus give themselves unreservedly away except when their trust is born of knowledge as well as affection, and the realization of all this changed me on that afternoon from whatever I had been into what I had long hoped I might one day be.