"He is. Ask no more questions, but hasten on; take the first broad trail which leaves the road on the right, follow it until you come to Brother Bethuel's house; you can not miss it; it is the only one. He will guide you to the place where Richard is, and you must warn him that the troops are coming."
"Only one question, Honor. Come out into the moonlight; give me both your hands. Do you love this man?"
He looked at her fixedly. She gave a quick, strong start, as though she must break away from him at all hazards, and turned darkly red, the deep, almost painful, blush of the brunette. Her hands shook in his grasp, tears of shame rose in her eyes; it was as though some one had struck her in the face.
"Do you love this Eliot?" repeated Stephen, compelling her still to meet his eyes.
She drew in her breath suddenly, and answered, with a rush of quick words: "No, no, no! Not in the way you mean. But he is my cousin. Go!"
He went. Nearly two miles farther down the road the trail turned off; it climbed directly up a glen by the side of a brook which ran downward to the river in a series of little waterfalls. It was wide enough for a horse, and showed the track of Marcher's hoofs. It came out on a flank of the mountain and turned westward, then northward, then straight up again through the thick woods to a house whose light shone down like a beacon, and guided him.
Wainwright knocked; Brother Bethuel opened, started slightly, then recovered himself, and welcomed his guest effusively.
"Is there any one in the house besides ourselves?" said Stephen, ignorant as to whether there was or was not a Mrs. Head. There was; but she had gone, with her five offspring, to visit her mother in Tennessee.
"Then," said Stephen, "take me immediately to Richard Eliot."
The little minister stared innocently at his guest.