“There's surely a good reason for all that happens,” Paul said. “But we can't be expected to understand what is withheld from us.” They were both silent for a while. They had reached the highest point of the road, and the lower mountains and hills fell away on all sides like the green billows of a mighty ocean. Above it all shone the sun. The blue, cloud-flecked sky arched over them like a vast dome. The breeze which fanned their faces was refreshing and laden with the fragrance of wild flowers. Paul called her attention to the mill at the foot of the mountain to which they were going, and started the horse down the incline. “I am to have a visitor Sunday,” Ethel remarked, her glance on the horse. “My friend, Mr. Peterson, is coming up to spend the day.” “Oh!” Paul unconsciously ejaculated, and then the color rose to his face. “I have not met him. I saw him at the bank one day when I went to Atlanta with your uncle, but we were not introduced. He was very busy looking over Mr. Hoag's papers.” “They are great friends,” Ethel said, somewhat awkwardly, her cheeks slightly tinted. “I don't feel as if I can entertain him very well in my present state of mind, but I knew my uncle would be offended if I wrote him not to come.” “It will be good for you, no doubt,” Paul said, lamely, and for no obvious reason he tightened the reins and shook them over the animal's back. “He will bring you news from the city and it may divert your thoughts.” “Perhaps so. My mother thought he ought to come; he has been most kind to us. He is one of my best friends.” “Your uncle tells me that Mr. Peterson is growing rich,” Paul remarked. “He seems to have a wise head for business.” “Yes, he is ambitious that way, and socially, too. He belongs to the best clubs and has a great many friends.” “Your uncle says he is a member of one of the old aristocratic families and has many influential blood connections.” “Yes, I think so”--Ethel suddenly glanced at her companion's face and noted that it was rigid, as if under the control of some keen emotion--“but such things do not really count,” she added, consolingly; “they don't make a man any the better.” Paul said nothing, and the horse drew them along for some distance in silence. Then Ethel took up the subject where it had dropped. “I am sure you will like Mr. Peterson; he has traveled a great deal. He has an interest in one of the Atlanta papers, and I have heard him speak of having influenced some of the political editorials. For so young a man he is looking far ahead and is very, very shrewd. My uncle declares that he is a born politician, and that sooner or later he will become a candidate for some high office, such even as Senator or Governor.” Suddenly Paul drew the horse to a standstill. She saw him glance up a very rugged steep over an abrupt cliff on the right. “I see some violets,” he said. “I've been looking for some all along. If you will hold the reins I'll climb up and get them.”