"You were always brave," said Barton, cheerily, with just a little
strain in his voice; "you were in no danger, and it is all over."

No answer.

"You are not overcome?" with an anxious voice. "Oh," coming close to
her, "if I might offer you support!"

He held out his hand, and she put hers in it. How cool and firm his
touch was, and how her tremor subsided under it! He pulled her hand
within his arm, and hers rested fully upon his, with but their light
summer draperies between them.

"But a little way further," he said, in his cheery voice, and they
hurried forward.

Neither spoke. What did either think? The youth was sorry for the
awful fright of the poor girl, and so glad of the little thing that
eased his own humiliation. The girl--who can tell what a girl thinks?

As they reached the cleared land, a sense of relief came to Julia,
who had started a dozen times, in her escape out of the woods, at
imaginary sounds. Day was still in the heavens, and the sight of her
father's house gladdened her.

"Will you mind the dew?" asked her companion.

"Not in the least," she answered; and he led her across the pastures
to the rear of an enclosure that surrounded the homestead. He seemed
to know the way, and conducted her through a large open gate, and so