accompanied me merely to escape from threatened danger; that her graciousness was largely acting, and that she would remain a companion only so long as I continued respectfully attentive. I knew I loved her; I felt now that I had loved her ever since we were boy and girl together. The touch of her hand sent a wild thrill through me, and my heart throbbed to the memory that she was actually my wife. But I dare not permit her to even guess the truth, for I felt that she regretted the weakness of that moment and would resent the slightest reference to it. I could only hope that time, and courtesy combined, would awaken her interest in me. If I could serve her quietly, the very love I gave might arouse response—but not yet.
I released her hand, venturing upon no reply, and we rode down the steep bank into the black water. The horses advanced slowly, cautiously, and I made little effort to guide them, although from that lower level, I felt assured I saw the fork of the dead tree silhouetted against the sky above the opposite bank. There were a few stars out, and their light reflected along the surface of the water, the faint gleam more confusing than helpful. The current was strong, but steady, and the stream deepened rapidly, until we were obliged to lift our feet to keep them dry. The bottom seemed to be rock strewn, and occasionally
