"Oh, yes; but I don't want to ride fast, because it will tire my horse."
"You shall go just as you please, my angel," said the traveler.
"I wonder whether this wretch thinks me very simple or very depraved? He must come to one or the other conclusion," thought Capitola.
They rode on very slowly for a mile further, and then, having arrived at an open glade, the stranger drew rein and said:
"Come, pretty lark, hop down; here's a nice place to sit and rest."
"Very well; come help me off," said Capitola, pulling up her horse; then, as by a sudden impulse, she exclaimed: "I don't like this place either; it's right on top of the hill; so windy, and just see how rocky the ground is. No, I'll not sit and rest here, and that I tell you."
"I am afraid you are trifling with me, my pretty bird. Take care; I'll not be trifled with," said the man.
"I don't know what you mean by trifling with you any more than the dead. But I'll not sit down there on those sharp rocks, and so I tell you. If you will be civil and ride along with me until we get to the foot of the hill, I know a nice place where we can sit down and have a good talk, and I will tell you all my travels and you shall tell me all yours."
"Ex-actly; and where is that nice place?"
"Why, in the valley at the foot of the hill."