The forest was beginning to take on its autumnal tints, but Mr.
Henley's conscience barred his thorough enjoyment of the scene. They
followed the bank of a brook where wild ivy and rhododendrons
clustered. They climbed steep places and descended others, and
crossed a little river, where rocks and a rushing torrent made the
ford seem dangerous. It was lonely, but exquisitely beautiful, and
the mountain ridges closed about them on every hand.
The twilight was rapidly giving way to the soft illumination of a
full moon; and it was not until Paul noticed this, that he began to
ask himself, "Where are we going?" He could not put the question to
the girl, and expose his ignorance of a matter which he might
reasonably be supposed to know.
After a prolonged silence, Henley ventured to observe that he had
never been in the State of Virginia before, hoping that the remark
might lead to some information from his driver; but she only looked
at him with a wondering expression, and after a minute, with eyebrows
lifted, said: "And I have never been out of it."
Paul would have liked to pursue the conversation, but did not know
how to do it. So far from gaining any information, he felt that he
was sinking deeper in the mire. "After all," he reflected, "there are
worse things in life than being run away with by a pretty girl, even
if one doesn't happen to know exactly where she is taking him, and
even if she doesn't happen to know exactly whom she is taking." He
stretched out his feet and leaned back, resigned to his fate.
Not a house had been passed in more than a mile. The road was
deserted, and Paul's interest in future developments steadily
growing.
Suddenly there was a terrible crash, and Mr. Henley's side of the
cart collapsed. Dorothy drew up the horse and exclaimed: "There! It is the spring. I was afraid it would break!"
"Too much weight on my side, Miss Guir," said Paul, jumping to the
ground.
"It is not that; it was weak; and I should have remembered to place
your luggage on my side. It is too unfortunate."
"What are we to do?" inquired Henley.
"It is difficult to say. We are miles from home, and the road is
rough."
She was examining the broken spring by the uncertain light, and
seemed perplexed.
"Can I not lead the horse while we walk?" suggested Paul.
"We could, but the break is too bad. I fear the body of the cart will
fall from the axle. But stop; there is one thing I can do. There is a
smith about half a mile from here, upon another road, which leaves
this about a hundred yards ahead. I will drive on alone to the shop,
and, although it is late, I feel sure the man will do the work for
me. You, Mr. Henley, will wait here for the stage, which will be due
directly. Tell the driver to put you off at the Guir Road, where you
can wait until I come along to pick you up. The distance is not
great, and I will follow as quickly as possible."