“Do your eyes trouble you, Mr. Eliot?” Alice had inquired sympathetically, as Max bent over to arrange the robe around her.
And Max had made answer, with perfect seriousness,—
“Very much, at times. You see, I suppose I study more than I ought, and it keeps them a little weak. It’s very trying, I assure you.”
“I feel very sorry for you,” said Miss Bernard, turning to face the goggles behind her. “It must be such an interruption to your work, besides being so very painful.”
“It is, very,” replied Max, in a tone so suggestive of patient suffering that Louis had a momentary longing to drop him out into a snowdrift, as he saw the compassionate glance which Miss Bernard gave the young deceiver.
But the clear, crisp air, the dazzling sun that blazed and sparkled over the snowy crust and, above all, the pretty young woman at his side, soon restored Louis to his usual good-humor, and he exerted himself to be as entertaining as possible while they sped away up the valley. Miss Bernard responded to his efforts, for both she and her sister had a genuine liking for this lad, who had put himself and his resources so entirely at their disposal during their visit at the school, so they chattered away pleasantly like the oldest of friends, while an occasional burst of laughter from the back seat, showed that his friend was successfully amusing Alice, who was as gay and full of fun as Max himself.
To the happy party in the sleigh, it seemed as if the sun were in an unusual hurry to hide himself behind the western hills, and it was with a feeling of unmixed regret that Louis turned the horses’ heads toward home. The afternoon had been so short and so full of enjoyment to the lad, and soon he would have left only the memory of what Miss Bernard had just called their “perfect drive.” To his eager young mind, it had all appeared to be created on purpose for his plans, the bright, cold day, the fine sleighing, even the spirits of the horses who arched their necks and tossed their heads with a pride far above their origin, as coming from a mere country livery stable. As the sun went slowly down towards the trees, the conversation had ceased, and Miss Bernard was leaning quietly back in her seat, gazing at the constantly-changing views of mountain and river. How pretty she looked, with the fresh, bright color in her cheeks, and the dreamy expression in her eyes! If he were only a little older, Louis thought, and if—
“Wing,” said Max abruptly; “I don’t want to complain, as long as I’m only a guest; but my nose is simply congealed, and I know Miss Alice is starving. Please remember that it’s almost supper-time and wake up those horses; they’re only just somnambulating.”
Alas for sentiment! There was never an opportunity for it, when Max was within reach; and Louis roused himself from his reverie, to start up the horses once more. Max’s sudden remark had set them all to talking again, and they went briskly on towards warmth and supper. With a sinking heart, Louis noted how they flew past one familiar landmark after another, now the upper cross-road, now Jerry’s cabin, now the lake and now the old turnpike. Then, as the sun threw one last golden beam over the white landscape and then lazily slid down out of sight, they reached the little bridge at the foot of the long hill leading up into the town.
Max breathed a sigh of relief.