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."

She was off before he had time to answer, leaving him standing by the
roadside, waiting for the promised coach. It was not long before the
rumbling of a heavy vehicle was heard, and but a few minutes more
when an antiquated stage with four scrubby horses emerged from the
shadow of a giant oak into the open moonlight, scarce fifty yards
away. Mr. Henley hailed the driver, who stopped, and looked at him as
if frightened. The man was a Negro, and, when convinced that it was
nothing more terrible than a human being who had accosted him, smiled
generously and invited him to a seat on the box.

"I 'lowed yer was a _hant_" observed the man, by way of opening the
conversation, when Paul had handed up his bags and taken his place on
top. Henley lighted a cigar, and the cumbersome old vehicle moved
slowly forward.

Their way now lay through a beautiful valley, beside a picturesque
stream, tunneling its course through wild ivy and magnificent banks
of calmia, and under the wide spreading limbs of pines and hemlocks.
The country appeared to be a wilderness, and Paul could not help
feeling that the real world of flesh and ambition lay upon the other
side of the ridge, now far behind. The night was superb, but the road
rough, so that the horses seldom went out of a walk. Presently the