CHAPTER VIII.
She was returning with Margaret from her drive, and looked very comfortable; with a cushion behind her and a light rug over her lap, she sat leaning back under her lace-trimmed parasol.
"I enjoy these drives so much," she said to her nephew in her agreeable voice. "The barrens themselves, to be sure, cannot be called beautiful, though I believe Margaret maintains that they have a fascination; but the air is delicious."
"Do you really find them fascinating?" said Winthrop to Margaret.
"Extremely so; I drive over them for miles every day, yet never want to come in; I always long to go farther."
"Oh, well, there's an end to them somewhere, I suppose," remarked Mrs. Rutherford; "the whole State isn't so very broad, you know; you would come out at the Gulf of Mexico."
"I don't want to come out," said Margaret, "I want to stay in; I want to drive here forever."
"We shall wake some fine morning, and find you gone," said Mrs. Rutherford, "like the girl in the 'Dismal Swamp,' you know:
"'Away to the Dismal Swamp she speeds—'