Would she ever meet him again? The thought took such hold upon her that it visited her in dreams and made her cry out in alarm as she sought to hide from his pursuing phantom. After her experience with Silas Dobson, Daniel was ever vigilant, attending her to and from school, albeit seldom alone with her. He seemed to be entirely willing that his favorite followers should share his privileges of her company; and often there were several tiny girls, or older ones, in the triumphal procession going to and from the red school-house, taking "teacher" home. Daniel showed himself a gentle giant toward the little ones, too, picking them up when they fell down, wiping off the mud, and carrying them if they were tired. Dawn saw him daily growing more manly and kindly, and she felt proud of him. Perhaps, some day, he might become something like Charles, though never quite so cultured, for he lacked the refined home training. But she realized more and more that he was a good boy and a great comfort to her. As for herself, she felt years older than he, and far beyond him in experience. She never dreamed how it was with him toward her. If she had, she might have given up in despair, and cried out that there was nothing good for her in the world. So Daniel continued to guard her, and to watch the movements of Silas Dobson as a cat watches a mouse. If Silas had wished, he would have had no opportunity to repeat his troublesome attentions, for whenever he found himself in the neighborhood of where the teacher happened to be boarding, he was likely to notice Daniel in the immediate foreground. So the long winter went pleasantly by. There were husking bees, quiltings, singing-school, and Lyceum nights. Dawn became a prominent participant at all. In singing-school, no voice was so clear as hers, and she could take the high notes to the envy of every other soprano in the village. At the Lyceum her readings were more popular than any others. In spite of her frequent loneliness, and her feeling of being cast off by all who should naturally protect her—though it was her own fault, of course, that she had run away, and she blamed no one—Dawn had never been quite so happy in her life. Her hours were pleasantly employed, she had friends who admired her, and she might do as she pleased. It opened a wide and interesting life before her. If only there had not been that ache as of something lost, that memory of her one beautiful day of love, which remained as a haunting vision, she would have felt herself blest beyond most girls. But all the time there was that sense of something wrong, that could not be set right; of a great mistake that might not ever be mended. And then, one morning when a hint of spring was in the air, and the snow was all gone save lingering patches in dark corners and in shady hollows, and the sunshine was making everybody feel glad, she came face to face with Harrington Winthrop! CHAPTER XXI