“I didn’t mean to scare you, Tom,” said the other; then he hesitated for a moment or two. “Look here, Tom,” said he, “you’d better go home; your mother has something to tell you. Your father was in town not half an hour ago; I saw him at Bradley’s blacksmith shop. I wish to heavens you’d been a little sooner; you might have ridden out home with him. If you’ll wait a bit, I’ll slip over and borrow uncle’s gig and drive you home.” “I don’t want to wait; I’ll walk,” said Tom. Then, “Look here, Will; what are you so anxious for me to go straight home for?” “What makes you think that I’m anxious?” “You ain’t answering my question, Will Gaines.” “I have no reason for wanting you to go straight home, except that I suppose your folks’ll want to see you.” “Is that all?” said Tom, looking sharply at the other. “Yes.” Tom looked at him a little while longer, and then he turned away. He did not believe Will, but he saw that nothing more was to be gotten out of him. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Will, presently, “you walk on out home, and I’ll go over and get uncle’s gig and drive after you, and pick you up. It won’t do to run in on your people without their knowing of your coming. Your mother ought to know of it before she sees you.” This was all very true, though Tom felt that Will’s plan was laid in order to secure his going home without stopping. He said nothing of his thoughts, however, but left the tavern, and started for home. He walked briskly along the dusky turnpike road, but there was a dull feeling of unhappiness resting upon his heart, for Will’s words, and looks, and tones, all told him that there was something wrong. So he came at last to the foot of the hill, where the turnpike road crosses Stony-Brook by the old county bridge. On the other side of the stream is a by-road that leads off from the highway and runs through the woods. Tom knew it well, for it was the old mill road, and led to Elihu Penrose’s house. Many a time had he walked it, and well he knew every bend and turn of it. The last time he had passed along it his heart had beaten high with love, and hope, and high resolve, albeit there was the bitterness of a coming parting lurking at the bottom of it. When he came to the spot where the mill road opens on the pike he stood still, and, as he stood, all the fear that had rested upon him since his homecoming seemed to gather and intensify into a dark and nameless dread. What had happened? What could it all mean? As his fears grew stronger his love waxed stronger with them. He looked back along the turnpike road—there was no signs of Will Gaines. Why should he go home, and not see his own dear love the first of all? “God bless her!” said he, with quivering lips, “I’ll not go home first; I’ll go and see her—my darling!”