Mauchacho, with his saddle on, was standing at the gate waiting for his mistress to resume her ride. He gave a long neigh of welcome as Mr. Davis came riding up. Bess ran to the door to see what Mauchacho wanted, just as Mr. Davis leaped to the ground and started through the gate. With a little ejaculation of surprise she stepped down toward him. She knew that if she could have escaped without being seen, she would not now be shaking hands with this man. “Mr. Fletcher told me I should find you here, and he assured me that you would be glad to see me,” he said. He did not look directly at her as he exaggerated the truth. “Are you not glad, little girl?” Since the evening when the white roses had come and the card had been read to the others, Bess had not felt so confused nor embarrassed when Davis had been spoken of. Now that James and Henry and Mrs. West knew that Davis cared for her and that he came purposely to see her, she tried to overcome her aversion for the man. While he was near her he exerted an influence which, strive as she would, she could not resist. His manner was charming, his conversation interesting, and there was about him that subtle, indescribable something which made him well-nigh irresistible. Bess was even surprised at herself as she became more and more interested in the man. And yet when he was gone she always felt relieved and happier, as if she were freed from some undue constraint. She never longed for him to come again and always felt a surprise when he came, and an insane desire to run away to hide. As she did not reply to his question, he asked again, “Is my sweetheart glad to see me?” “Really, Mr. Davis, your conjecture is rather bold! Did I ever say I was anyone’s sweetheart?” “But you are, you are mine, and just now your brother congratulated me.” “Well, indeed,” said Bess, haughtily; “is a girl compelled to assume the role, _nolens volens_?” Her brown eyes snapped defiance at the man standing a few steps below her. “There, Bess, no one will compel you to do anything against your own will,” quickly corrected Mr. Davis, for he did not wish his too slow progress to be retarded by any whim or imagined compulsion. He had had experience enough to know that with women, coaxing accomplishes more than commands.