riding, and in bullying his spirited horse. Then he pulled quickly up.
What was he doing? What was he going to do? What foolish, vapid deceit
was this that he was going to practice upon that noble, queenly,
confiding, generous woman? (He had already forgotten that she had always
distrusted him.) What a fool he was not to tell her half-jokingly that
he expected to meet Susy! But would he have dared to talk half-jokingly
to such a woman on such a topic? And would it have been honorable
without disclosing the WHOLE truth,--that they had met secretly before?
And was it fair to Susy?--dear, innocent, childish Susy! Yet something
must be done! It was such trivial, purposeless deceit, after all; for
this noble woman, Mrs. Peyton, so kind, so gentle, would never object
to his loving Susy and marrying her. And they would all live happily
together; and Mrs. Peyton would never be separated from them, but always
beaming tenderly upon them as she did just now in the garden. Yes, he
would have a serious understanding with Susy, and that would excuse the
clandestine meeting to-day.

His rapid pace, meantime, had brought him to the imperceptible incline
of the terrace, and he was astonished, in turning in the saddle, to find
that the casa, corral, and outbuildings had completely vanished, and
that behind him rolled only the long sea of grain, which seemed to have
swallowed them in its yellowing depths. Before him lay the wooded ravine
through which the stagecoach passed, which was also the entrance to
the rancho, and there, too, probably, was the turning of which Susy had
spoken. But it was still early for the rendezvous; indeed, he was in
no hurry to meet her in his present discontented state, and he made a
listless circuit of the field, in the hope of discovering the phenomena
that had caused the rancho's mysterious disappearance. When he had
found that it was the effect of the different levels, his attention was
arrested by a multitude of moving objects in a still more distant