"Don't stable him; just walk him back and forth till he cools down and then hitch him somewhere handy; I shall ride again presently." Walking rapidly up the path he stepped upon the porch, and there met Margaret face to face for the first time since he had gaily bidden her adieu at midsummer. "Margaret!" he exclaimed. "Boyd!" she answered, and a moment later he had taken her in his arms and caressed her fervently. [Illustration: "Margaret!" . . . "Boyd!"--_Page 436._] "You have come at last!" she said as she withdrew herself from his embrace. "At last?" he asked in answer. "It was only two hours ago that I learned that I might come at all. I was twenty miles away then, and I am here now, here to claim fulfilment of the most glorious promise a woman ever made to a man--here to claim you, Margaret." "I know," she answered, as they sank into porch chairs. "Don't let us waste time in explanations, now that they are so utterly unnecessary. Just let us be happy." The conversation thus begun lasted until near supper time. It is not necessary to report it for the information of any who have been lovers, and as for the rest, they would never understand. Just before the late supper time Westover suddenly awakened to his duty. "I must see your father," he said. "Without his permission I have no right to consider myself a guest in his house." Margaret, knowing her father's perplexed eagerness to see Westover and be reconciled with him, smiled as she answered: "I'll send for Father." She did so, and presently the old Colonel came limping into the porch. As he approached, Margaret slipped into the house, leaving the two men alone. They greeted each other with a cordiality that rendered all explanations and apologies needless, but Colonel Conway insisted upon explaining and apologizing. "I've been a coward, Boyd! I've been an abject coward." "I don't know any other man living who would dare say that, Colonel." "Perhaps not. No, I suppose not. Still it is true, and I'm profoundly ashamed of it." "Now my dear Colonel Conway," interjected Westover, "let us not talk of that. This is the happiest hour of my life and, I hope, of Margaret's. Let us not spoil it by discussing disagreeable things which are completely past and gone."