“Friar Tuck will dispense with the bride’s consent as well as with the license, and the wedding ring!” answered Goldsborough, coolly.
“Oh, villain! I hope—I do hope that neither steel nor ball may ever save you from the halter!” gasped Elfie, giving his ears a most vicious wring.
“See here, my girl, we are coming to the ford! and we must be careful! Just give my ears a holiday for a few minutes, will you, while you draw up your feet and fold your skirts up over your lap to keep them from getting wet,” said Albert, as they emerged from the wooded gorge of the mountain and descended to the banks of the river, now shining like a stream of fluid silver, in the broad moonlight.
“I won’t! I don’t care if I do get wet, or drown either! I’d be glad to drown, if I thought I could drown you with me!” exclaimed Elfie.
“See how she loves me! she is willing to meet death itself if shared with me,” mocked Albert. “So here we go.”
And he plunged into the river.
Splash! splash! splash! they went through the water, making the foam fly in every direction.
The gallant horse, heavily laden as he was, bravely breasted the current, and reached the opposite shore in safety.
“Elfie, my darling, do you know why I made this last raid into Maryland?” inquired the guerrilla, as they struggled up the slippery bank.
“No, nor care, you miscreant!” snapped Elfie.