Gilbert, growing wise in woodcraft and in The art of making love, on the farther Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up The winding trail; Zola watching, waited Disappointed while he--galloping o’er the Table-land--came on Cedric busy in His garden. They with kindly greeting met, Conversing, found each the other to his Liking. He too manly to dissemble, Gilbert came out openly: The one so Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter? Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine, Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of Her presence on the mountain? Had he met Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert, Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers, Yet they knew each other well; he long had Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had He found the one to ask if he might meet and Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw His good intent, sincerity and truth, Looked upon him with the feeling of the Father for the son. Then like a phantom Came that secret terror of his life,--he Spoke unlike himself--severe, unkindly. “She obeys her father’s will and he would Will that she remain unseen, unknown To strange intruder. The young man makes bold In asking.” Answered Gilbert, manfully: “May not a true heart be emboldened by The hope of winning one so beautiful? The asking honorable? Perchance the Señor has himself in days gone by made Like request?” Spoke of his family Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the More determined they should never meet, for Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must Go and wait six days and on the seventh Come; if she were there then he might speak with Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well! With such a hope I well may add to my Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric Pitying, watched him disappear among The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs. Zola coming, on her face the look of Sadness,--signs of weeping,--Cedric knowing Now the secret of the change in her--the Absence of the rippling laughter noticed In the months gone by--his kind heart melted And well-nigh did he repent and tell her All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling, Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would Go and sail across the ocean--sail to Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to Palomar, spake he of the people and The sights that they would see. Long had they Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going, Would they view the halls and palaces of Splendor they had read about. She smiling Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness.