"And the Primroses are----" "Uninteresting." "For uninteresting, say insufferable. If Lucifer wishes to gain me over to his side, let Mrs. Primrose be made my guardian angel, and his work is done." "Your horse has cast a shoe," said Morton, abruptly,--"yes; and he is lame besides." "It is this broken, stony road. I wish we were at the end of it." "So do I. If the clouds would break for a moment, and show us the sun, I could form some idea of the direction we are following." "Why," said Fanny, in alarm, looking at her watch, "the sun must be very near setting." Morton began to be very anxious, for his companion's sake, when, a moment after, they came upon a broader track, which intersected the other, and seemed a main thoroughfare of the woodcutters. "This looks more promising," said Morton; and turning to the left, they pushed their horses to their best pace. Twilight came on, and it was quite dark when they emerged at length upon the broad and dusty highway. In a few minutes they saw a countryman, with his hands in his pockets, and a long nine between his lips, lounging by the roadside. "How far is it to New Baden?" "Wal," replied the man, after studying his querist in silence for about half a minute, "it's fifteen mile strong." Morton looked at Fanny, whose horse was very lame, and who, in spite of her spirit, began to show unmistakable signs of fatigue. "Is there a public house any where near?" "Yas; it ain't far ahead to Mashum's." "How far?" "Rather better nor a mile." On coming to the inn, Morton commended Fanny to the care of the landlady, an honest New Hampshire woman, remounted without delay, and urged his tired horse to such speed that he reached the hotel before half past nine. His arrival relieved the anxieties, or silenced the tattle of the inmates; and in the morning Fanny's uncle drove to the inn, and brought back the adventurous damsel to New Baden. CHAPTER XIII. Men will woo the tempest, And wed it, to their cost.--_Passion Flowers_. Then fly betimes, for only they Conquer love that run away.--_Carew_. Morton had been for some time of opinion that he had better leave New Baden; yet still the philosophic youth staid on,--a week longer,--a fortnight longer,--and still he lingered. It would be too much to say that he was in love with his handsome, dare-devil cousin; but his mind was greatly troubled in regard to her--shaken and tossed with a variety of conflicting emotions. The multiplied and constantly changing phases of her character, its strong but utterly ungoverned resources, its frankness, enthusiasm, detestation of all deceit or pretension, and, in spite of her wildness, a deep vein of womanly tenderness which now and then betrayed itself, all conspired to keep his interest somewhat painfully excited.