As we rolled along the quiet country roads, chatting, laughing, and occasionally singing a snatch of a song, no one would have dreamed that any shadows rested on the party except those which slanted eastward from the trees, which often hung far over our heads.
I took pains not to feign any forced gayety, nor had I occasion to, for I was genuinely happy—happier than I had ever been before. Nothing was assured save the absolute truth of the woman that I loved, but with this ally I was confident. I was impartial in my attentions to Adah and Zillah, and so friendly to both that Adah was as pleased and happy as the child. We chaffed the country neighbors whom we met, and even chattered back at the barking squirrels that whisked before us along the fences. Mr. Yocomb seemed almost as much of a boy as Reuben, and for some reason Miss Warren always laughed most at his pleasantries. Mrs. Yocomb looked as placid and bright as Silver Pond, as it at last glistened beneath us in the breathless, sunny afternoon; but like the clear surface fringed with shadows that sank far beneath the water, there were traces of many thoughts in her large blue eyes.
There was a cow lying under the trees where we meant to spread our table. I pointed her out to Miss Warren with humorous dismay. "Shall we turn back?" I asked.
"No," she replied, looking into my eyes gratefully. "You have become so brave that I'm not afraid to go on."
I ignored her reference to that which I intended she should forget for one day, believing that if we could make her happy she would recognize how far her golden-haloed lover came short of this power. So I said banteringly, "I'll wager you my hat that you dare not get out and drive that terrific beast away."
"The idea of Emily's being afraid of a cow, after facing Dapple!" cried
Reuben.
"Well, we'll see," I said. "Stop the rockaway here."
"What should I do with your hat, Mr. Morton?"
"Wear it, and suffer the penalty," laughed Adah.
"You would surely win it," retorted the girl, a little nettled.