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"No," I rejoined, "the first step would be the last."

We're going to get married, but don't tell pa--"

"Maiden passing fair, turn away thine eyes! Turn away thine eyes ere my bosom burn,

Breathe, O! breathe to me, as these love-languid skies To yon twilight star breathe, Return, return!

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"Oh, I don't doubt you have; though I didn't know but it might be Charlie Toliver or something."

Our intercourse became more amiable and the fellow dragged in his advice that I spend the rest of the night at the house of Mr. Oliver. His acquaintance with that gentleman seemed to grow while we talked, and broke into bloom like a magician's rosebush. He described him as a kind old bird who made hospitality to strangers his meat and drink. A conjecture darted into my mind. "Why, yes! that is his married son, is he not, yonder in the cabin; the one with the fair hair?"

"But if she--oh, yes!--Yes, to be sure; she could easily have got here yesterday afternoon."

My hearer grinned. "Oh, that ain't no sign. Boys will be boys. You know that, yo'se'f. An' o' co'se she know it. Oh, yass, she at home."

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