MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
swaying her, but she little comprehended the thoughts of the man at her side. Again and again I glanced toward her, my lips opening for speech, yet unable to utter the first syllable. I had in my heart the fear of a coward; I dreaded to confess the truth, and face her just indignation. Yet I was inevitably driven to it; there was nothing else for me to do, unless I should suddenly rein back my horse, ride swiftly away in the darkness, leaving her alone and undefended. That would be the act of a cur; it would insure me her hatred forever, and, deep down in my heart, I was already beginning to desire the future goodwill of this girl. I wanted her to respect my motives, to understand what it was which had driven me into such an act of deceit. Not even justified in my own mind, I yet dreamed I might possibly justify myself in some small degree before her. Once, as if the constrained silence had become unbearable, she ventured a common-place remark upon the black stillness of the night, to which I must have replied stiffly enough, for both immediately relapsed into silence; the only sound was made by our horses' hoofs, now pounding along a road grown hard and rocky as we steadily rose into higher altitudes. In the narrow bed of a stream we drew rein to permit the animals to drink thirstily. Feeling that I must now know something more definite as to this country we traversed, I began doubtfully to probe after the information.
"I rather expected to encounter pickets along the road," I began, staring about into the night. "Have they been withdrawn?"
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