Mr. Harrison held out his hand to the girl as she came down the steps, and eyed her keenly to see if her flushed cheeks would betray any sign of fear.  But Helen’s emotions were surging too strongly for such thoughts, and she had, besides, a little of the thoroughbred nature herself.  She laughed gaily as she gave her hand to her companion and sprang into the wagon; he followed her, and as he took the reins the groom sprang aside and the two horses bounded away down the broad avenue.  Helen turned once to wave her hand in answer to the chorus of good-bys that sounded from the porch, and then she faced about and sank back into the seat and drank in with delight the fresh morning breeze that blew in her face.

“Oh, I think this is fine!” she cried.

“You like driving, then?” asked the other.

“Yes indeed,” was the reply.  “I like this kind ever so much.”

“Wait until we get out on the high-road,” said Mr. Harrison, “and then we will see what we can do.  I came from the West, you know, Miss Davis, so I think I am wise on the subject of horses.”

The woods on either side sped by them, and Helen’s emotions soon began to flow faster.  It was always easy for her to forget everything and lose herself in feelings of joy and power, and it was especially easy when she was as much wrought up as she was just then.  It was again her ride with the thunderstorm, and soon she felt as if she were being swept out into the rejoicing and the victory once more.  She might have realized, if she had thought, that her joy was coming only because she was following her aunt’s advice, and yielding herself into the arms of her temptation; but Helen was thoroughly tired of thinking; she wanted to feel, and again and again she drank in deep breaths of the breeze.

It was only a minute or so before they passed the gates of the Roberts place, and swept out of the woods and into the open country.  It was really inspiring then, for Mr. Harrison gave his horses the reins, and Helen was compelled to hold on to her hat.  He saw delight and laughter glowing in her countenance as she watched the landscape that fled by them, with its hillsides clad in their brightest green and with its fresh-plowed farm-lands and snowy orchards; the clattering of the horses’ hoofs and the whirring of the wheels in the sandy road were music and inspiration such as Helen longed for, and she would have sung with all her heart had she been alone.

As was her way, she talked instead, with the same animation and glow that had fascinated her companion upon the previous evening.  She talked of the sights that were about them, and when they came to the top of the hill and paused to gaze around at the view, she told about her trip through the Alps, and pictured the scenery to him, and narrated some of her mountain-climbing adventures; and then Mr. Harrison, who must have been a dull man indeed not to have felt the contagion of Helen’s happiness, told her