"It won't take _me_ long to move. My furniter ain't very cumbersome; an' I kud let ye in to-morrow, ef 't wan't that I hev some unexpected bizness with my friend hyur. Say day arter the morrow? Ef ye'll kum then, ye'll find me ready to deliver up. Will that answer for ye?" "Admirably!" was my reply. "All right, then! I'd ask ye in, but thur's nothin' to gie you--'ceptin' that piece o' deer-meat, an' it's raw. Besides, strenger, I've some partickler _bizness jest now_, that I'm 'bleeged to see to." "Oh, never mind! I shall not need any refreshment till I reach Swampville." "Wal, then, I'll bid you good-mornin' at the same time wishin' you luck o' your bargin." "Thanks--good morning!" I leaped into the saddle, and turned my horse's head towards the entrance of the enclosure. I should have given him the touch to go forward with more reluctance, had I not perceived the fair Lilian gliding out of the cabin, and proceeding in the same direction! Two or, three of the bars had been replaced by the clerical visitor; and she had gone, apparently, to remove them. Was it simple courtesy, or a pretence to speak with me? My heart heaved with a tumultuous joy, as I fancied that the latter might be her motive. When I reached the entrance, the bars were down; and the young girl stood leaning against one of the uprights--her round white arm embracing the post. Envied piece of timber! "Promise me, we shall meet again?" said I, bending down, and speaking in a half-whisper. She looked back towards the cabin with a timid glance. We were not observed. The two men had gone into the horse-shed. In her fingers, I noticed the flower of a bignonia. She had taken it from among the golden tresses of her hair. Her cheek rivalled the crimson of its corolla, as she flung the blossom upon the saddle-bow. "Promise me!" I repeated in a more earnest tone. "Yes--yes!" she replied in a soft low voice, that resembled the whisper of an angel; and then, hearing noises from the house, she passed hurriedly away. "Yes--yes--!" cried the mimic thrush, as I rode on through the tall tulip-trees. "Yes--yes!" repeated a thousand rival songsters; or were the sounds I heard but the echoes of her voice, still pealing through the glad chambers of my heart? CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. AN ERRAND OF LOVE.