"Thank you; but I'm sorry you should go so far out of your road," said Lucy. Her face was pale, and there was an evident constraint in the smile which accompanied the words. "O, he'd go twice as far for company," Anna Warriner remarked. "You know I'd take you, and welcome, but Elwood has a good claim on you, now." "I have no _claim_, Lucy," said Elwood, rather doggedly. "Let us go, then," were Lucy's words. She rose, and the four were soon seated in the two vehicles. They drove away in the low sunshine, one pair chatting and laughing merrily as long as they were within hearing, the other singularly grave and silent. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER V. ELWOOD'S EVENING, AND JOSEPH'S. For half a mile Elwood Withers followed the carriage containing Anna Warriner and her friend; then, at the curve of the valley, their roads parted, and Lucy and he were alone. The soft light of the delicious summer evening was around them; the air, cooled by the stream which broadened and bickered beside their way, was full of all healthy meadow odors, and every farm in the branching dells they passed was a picture of tranquil happiness. Yet Lucy had sighed before she was aware of it,—a very faint, tremulous breath, but it reached Elwood's sensitive ear. "You don't seem quite well, Lucy," he said. "Because I have talked so little?" she asked. "Not just that, but—but I was almost afraid my coming for you was not welcome. I don't mean—" But here he grew confused, and did not finish the sentence. "Indeed, it was very kind of you," said she. This was not an answer to his remark, and both felt that it was not. Elwood struck the horse with his whip, then as suddenly drew the reins on the startled animal. "Pshaw!" he exclaimed, in a tone that was almost fierce, "what's the use o' my beating about the bush in this way?" Lucy caught her breath, and clenched her hands under her shawl for one instant. Then she became calm, and waited for him to say more. "Lucy!" he continued, turning towards her, "you have a right to think me a fool. I can talk to anybody else more freely than to you, and the reason is, I want to say more to you than to any other woman! There's no use in my being a coward any longer; it's a desperate venture I'm making, but it must be made. Have you never guessed how I feel towards you?" "Yes," she answered, very quietly. "Well, what do you say to it?" He tried to speak calmly, but his breath came thick and hard, and the words sounded hoarsely. "I will say this, Elwood," said she, "that because I saw your heart, I have watched your ways and studied your character. I find you honest and manly in everything, and so tender and faithful that I wish I could return your affection in the same measure." A gleam, as of lightning, passed over his face.