LOVE.
This was but one of many such meetings, Thurston growing more and more infatuated each time, while Marian scarcely tried to hide the pleasure which his society gave her.
One day when riding through the forest he met Marian returning from the village and on foot. She was radiant with health and beauty, and blushing and smiling with joy as she met him. A little basket hung upon her arm. To dismount and join her, to take the basket from her arm, and to look in her face and declare in broken exclamations his delight at seeing her, were the words and the work of an instant.
"And whither away this morning, fairest Marian?" he inquired, when unrebuked he had pressed her hand to his lips, and drawn it through his arm.
"I have been to the village, and am now going home," said the maiden.
"It is a long walk through the forest."
"Yes; but my pony has cast a shoe and lamed himself slightly, and I fear
I shall have to dispense with his services for a few days."
"Thank God!" fervently ejaculated Thurston to himself.
"But it is beautiful weather, and I enjoy walking," said the young girl.
"Marian—dearest Marian, will you let me attend you home? The walk is lonely, and it may not be quite safe for a fair woman to take it unattended."