Nan made no reply, but gave the little lad a message for Gabriel, which he delivered with promptness. He edged his way through the crowd, crawled upon the stand, and pulled at Gabriel's coat-tails. The great orator--that's what Cephas thought he was--seized the little fellow and hugged him before all the crowd; and though many years have passed, Cephas has never had a triumph of any kind that was quite equal to the pride he felt while Gabriel held him in his arms. The little fellow took this occasion to deliver his message, which was to the effect that Gabriel was to ride home in the Dorrington carriage with Nan. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR _Nan Surrenders_ It was all over at last, and Gabriel found himself seated in the carriage, side by side with the demurest and the quietest young lady he had ever seen. He had shaken hands until his arm was sore, and he had hunted for Nan everywhere; and finally, when he had given up the search, he heard her calling him and saw her beckoning him from a carriage. There was not much of a greeting between them, and he saw at once that, while this was the Nan he had known all his life, she had changed greatly. What he didn't know was that the change had taken place while he was in the midst of his speech. She was just as beautiful as ever; in fact, her loveliness seemed to be enhanced by some new light in her eyes--or was it the way her head drooped?--or a touch of new-born humility in her attitude? Whatever it was, Gabriel found it very charming. To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained. "If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk. Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every way--strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully. "I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile. "I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid----" "Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not."