"As I said," Betsy persisted, "I can't make my meaning clear to you. In truth, I can't understand myself why I wish this; but of one thing I am quite sure, both my father and mother, for some unknown cause, are greatly prejudiced against the name 'Logan.' Mother, in particular, abhors it. At some period of her life, she must have had some terrible knowledge of some one of the name--you know there are many Logans in this State and in Virginia--but whatever the reason for her extreme aversion to the name, that aversion certainly exists. Therefore, it behooves us to be very tactful in telling father and mother that you are a Logan. Just now I feel sure it would be unwise to tell them; for mother is unusually weak and nervous this fall, and father is so harassed over this church trouble that he is irritable and unreasonable, even with mother and me. We can't very well be married before spring, anyway; and long before then father'll be as cordial as ever with you; and he and mother will be fully reconciled to your new name, too. I'm your promised wife, and--and--I love you with all my heart. Isn't that happiness enough for you for awhile?" "But, dearest, I think your parents should be told at once that you are my betrothed wife. I don't like any appearance of secrecy. I'm too proud of my love for that." "No," Betsy still urged, "I know father better than you do. Please be guided by me in this, and say nothing to him for awhile." "But I can not delay much longer to make public that my name is Logan, and about my newly acquired property. There's business to be transacted in regard to this Henderson County land; and your father must inevitably soon hear of my name, from some one; and it would be better from me than from an outsider." However, Abner finally yielded to Betsy's pleadings, and agreed that they should take no one into their confidence at present in regard to their engagement; and that he should tell the Rogerses and James Drane about his real name, and of the inheritance left him by the will of the late Colonel Hite. "And you mustn't even come to see me," said Betty. "In father's present mood it would only irritate him to have you come. Besides, if you did come, they'd be sure to find us out; for we couldn't act toward each other just in the old, quiet, friendly way--at least, I couldn't and--and--oh, I know it will be hard, this restraint, this secrecy; not to see you, and not to let every one know that we are pledged to each other. But for my sake, and because it is for the best, you will be patient, won't you?" "I will try; but Heaven send your father a speedy change of heart toward your poor lover!" Abner fervently exclaimed as he kissed Betty good-by. CHAPTER XX. THE LONE GRAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS