Presently the rollicking couple made their appearance. Sally's foot had caught in her riding-skirt as she ran, throwing her at full length on the sward, and Mark, in picking her up, had possessed himself of the whip. She was not hurt in the least, (her life having been a succession of tears and tumbles,) but Mark's arm found it necessary to encircle her waist, and she did not withdraw from the support until they came within sight of the porch. It was now time for the guests to leave, but Mary Potter must first produce her cakes and currant-wine,--the latter an old and highly superior article, for there had been, alas! too few occasions which called for its use. “Gilbert,” said Mark, as they moved towards the gate, “why can't you catch and saddle Roger, and ride with us? You have nothing to do?” “No; I would like--but where are you going?” “To Falconer's; that is, the girls; but we won't stay for supper--I don't fancy quality company.” “Nor I,” said Gilbert, with a gloomy face. “I have never visited Falconer's, and they might not thank you for introducing me.” He looked at Martha, as he spoke. She understood him, and gave him her entire sympathy and pity,--yet it was impossible for her to propose giving up the visit, solely for his sake. It was not want of independence, but a maidenly shrinking from the inference of the act, which kept her silent. Mark, however, cut through the embarrassment. “I'll tell you what, Gilbert!” he exclaimed, “you go and get Roger from the field, while we ride on to Falconer's. If the girls will promise not to be too long about their patterns and their gossip, and what not, we can be back to the lane-end by the time you get there; then we'll ride up t' other branch o' Redley Creek, to the cross-road, and out by Hallowell's. I want to have a squint at the houses and barns down that way; nothing like business, you know!” Mark thought he was very cunning in thus disposing of Martha during the ride, unconscious of the service he was offering to Gilbert. The latter's eagerness shone from his eyes, but still he looked at Martha, trembling for a sign that should decide his hesitation. Her lids fell before his gaze, and a faint color came into her face, yet she did not turn away. This time it was Sally Fairthorn who spoke. “Five minutes will be enough for us, Mark,” she said. “I'm not much acquainted with Fanny Falconer. So, Gilbert, hoist Martha into her saddle, and go for Roger.” He opened the gate for them, and then climbed over the fence into the hill-field above his house. Having reached the crest, he stopped to watch the three riding abreast, on a smart trot, down the glen. Sally looked back, saw him, and waved her hand; then Mark and Martha turned, giving no sign, yet to his eyes there seemed a certain expectancy in the movement.