On their way home they came to an old wood road and turned into it from the cross-country way upon which they had been galloping. Checking their horses they rode slowly down the brilliant avenue of gold and russet and crimson, talking, now earnestly, now gaily, upon one or another of the multitude of things, personal and impersonal, which to lovers can bourgeon instantly into matters of moment and interest by the mere fact of mention in the loved one’s voice. Gradually the road dwindled away and they came upon steeper hills and a rocky surface. But Rhoda knew where they were and said that by turning sharply to the eastward they could gain the high road. Dismounting they led their horses across the hills, the fallen autumnal glories billowing beneath their feet. Already Rhoda’s mood had begun to sober. The Puritan was claiming his own again. Down that wood road she had driven her buggy, on a winter day, to bring out the fugitive negro lad whom she had sent flying to the cave for safety from the pursuing marshal. They passed the cave itself, where, more than three years previous, she had hidden the mulatto, running for the freedom dearer than life from this very man who was bending near her now with ardent looks of love. She shivered a little as she remembered the slave’s sullen resolution, the pistol in his hand, and the tone in which he had said, “I won’t go back.” As Jeff bent with loving solicitude to draw her wrap closer about her shoulders she was thinking, “And he said they were brothers.” They struck a path which climbed a steep hill, and when they came to a jutting rock Delavan looked around him with sudden recollection. “Why, I’ve been here before!” he exclaimed. “It was here I met you, dear, that day--don’t you remember? What a long time you have made me wait, sweetheart, for your promise!” His lover’s longing, made a hundredfold more imperious by the allurement there had been all the afternoon in her laugh, her voice, her smile, her lips, her eyes, her manner, would be put aside no longer, and he turned upon her with an impetuosity that would brook no protest. “Do you, remember, dearest, the proof of my love I gave you that day? I’m ready to give you, here on this same spot, another proof, a thousand times greater! It will sweep away everything that keeps us apart, Rhoda! Everything!” She looked at him silently, sweet wonder parting her lips and shining starlike in her big gray eyes. Her cheeks were paler now, with the ebbing of the exultant tide that had kept her all the afternoon on its crest. But to him this soft, subdued mood bespoke the sweetheart ready to tremble into his embrace and made her all the more adorable. He seized her hand and she let it lie in his close, warm grasp as he went on: