Lyon Berners cracked his long wagoner’s whip, and started on the road leading away from the river towards the east.
It was yet early in the autumn night, and but for the cause of the journey, the young pair would have enjoyed it very much.
“It is a very pleasant evening for the season,” said Lyon, cheerfully looking up at the clear, blue-black, star-spangled sky.
“Yes, indeed,” answered Sybil briskly.
“Are you quite comfortable, darling?”
“Very! Captain Pendleton, dear Captain Pendleton, arranged my seat so nicely. It is so soft and easy. I could go to sleep here, if I were sleepy.”
“You may have to sleep there, dear. We must travel all night, in order to get a good distance from this neighborhood before morning.”
“I can bear that very well, as comfortably as I am placed. But you, dear Lyon, you who are driving, you will be tired to death.”
“Not at all. My work to-night will not be more than many men frequently undertake for mere amusement.”
“And the horses?”