"That is a dark way I am going," he said, looking down the trail. "But I shall not even remember the darkness, now that you are here again."
Constance laughed softly.
"Perhaps it is my halo that makes the difference."
A moment later he had turned to go, but paused to say—casually, it seemed:
"By the way, I have a story to read to you—a manuscript. It was written by some one I know, who had a copy mailed me. It came this morning. I am sure the author, whose name is to be withheld for the present, would appreciate your opinion."
"And my judgment is to be final, of course. Very well; Minerva holds her court at ten to-morrow, at the top of yon small mountain, which on the one side slopes to the lake, and on the other overlooks the pleasant Valley of Decision, which borders the West Branch."
"And do I meet Minerva on the mountain top, or do I call for her at the usual address—that is to say, here?"
"You may call for Minerva. After her recent period of inactivity she may need assistance over the hard places."
Frank did, in fact, arrive at the camp next morning almost in time for breakfast. Perhaps the habit of early rising had grown upon him of late. Perhaps he only wished to assure himself that Constance had really returned. Even a wish to hear her opinion of the manuscript may have exerted a certain influence.
They set out presently, followed by numerous injunctions from Mrs. Deane concerning fogs and trails and an early return. Frank had never ascended this steep little mountain back of the camp, save once by a trail that started from near the Lodge. He let Constance take the lead.