Edith looked up with flashing eyes, crimsoned face, and silent voice, as if she would annihilate him by her very look. Gradually a change, like the sunlight breaking through the storm-clouds, overspread her features. The light of her eyes grew softer, and the expression of her face more merciful, until, as the hunter had paused and scarcely breathed for her reply, she said, with one of her most enchanting smiles:
"I am not offended. You may kiss me again if you wish to do so."
"If I wish to," said the Rifleman, drawing her to him. "If I wish to——"
Here his words became unintelligible. He continued kissing her until she checked him.
"Sh!"
The crackling of some bushes a few yards away showed that they were no longer alone. The whole aspect of the Rifleman changed. The lover became the ranger instantly. Cocking his rifle, he placed himself in front of Edith so as to confront this unexpected danger.
CHAPTER VII.
THE COUNTRYMAN.
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
Shakspeare.