Here Kenneth drew rein, and calling to Zeb bade him ride on to the cross-roads and there await his coming; and if their fellow travellers should arrive first, tell them he would join them in a few moments. "Yes, sah," returned the lad, whipping up his horse, while Kenneth dismounted and made his way to a spot where four or five little graves, and one somewhat longer, were ranged side by side. Giving only a glance at the others, the young man turned to this last and stood for some moments gazing down upon it with a look of grave, sad tenderness upon his noble, manly face. "Angus Clendenin, aged fourteen," he murmured in low, moved tones, reading from the inscription on the headstone. "Ah, brother beloved, why were we so soon parted by grim death? We whose hearts were knit together as the hearts of David and Jonathan!" But time pressed and he must away. Plucking a violet from the sod that covered the sleeping dust, and placing it carefully between the leaves of his note book, he remounted and pursued his journey. As he reached the place of rendezvous, where Zeb was lazily sunning himself, seated on a fallen tree, with his horse's bridle in his hand, three large wagons came toiling along the intersecting roads; beside the foremost a graceful girlish figure, tastefully attired in riding hat and habit, and mounted upon a beautiful and spirited pony, which she was managing with the utmost apparent ease and skill; curbing its evident impatience to outstrip the slower and more clumsily built animals attached to the vehicles. At sight of Kenneth, however, she loosened her hold upon the rein, and came cantering briskly up with a gay "Good-morning, Dr. Clendenin." The face that met his gaze was so fair and winsome, so bright with youthful animation, that the grave young doctor could not forbear a smile as he returned her greeting with courtly grace. Nellie Lamar's beauty was of a very delicate type--a sylph-like form, delicately moulded features, a sweet, innocent expression, complexion of lilies and roses, a profusion of pale golden hair, beautifully arched and pencilled brows, large melting blue eyes, "deeply, darkly, beautifully blue," and fringed with heavy silken lashes, many shades darker than the hair. She was but fifteen, just out of school and quite as guileless and innocent as she looked. A charming blush mantled her cheek as she caught the admiring glance of Kenneth's eye. "So, so, Fairy, be quiet, will you?" she said, tightening her rein with one hand, while bending low over her pony's neck she softly patted and stroked it with the other. "If those clumsy, slow-moving creatures would but travel faster!" she exclaimed with pretty petulance, lifting her head again and sending an impatient glance in the direction of the approaching wagons. "Neither Fairy nor I can well brook having to keep pace with them."