The village people stared at Dan as he got into the stage with the stranger. They wondered where he was going. One of the boys made bold to slide up to the coach and ask him, but he got little satisfaction.
"Just running down to New York for a few days," Dan answered nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of every-day occurrence.
Amid the envious stares of the boys, the coach drove away into the evening, and Daniel sat silently beside his companion, wondering at himself, his heart throbbing greatly that he might within a few hours see the girl who had made such a difference in his life.
About midnight everybody but Charles and Daniel got out of the coach. Comfortably ensconced, the two young men might have slept, but Charles was too nervous and excited to sleep, and Daniel was not far behind him.
"Daniel," said Charles, suddenly breaking the silence that had fallen upon them, though each knew the other was not sleeping, "by what name did she go? Your mother spoke of her as Miss Montgomery. Was that the name she gave?"
"Yes," said Daniel, wondering; "Mary Montgomery."
"It was her mother's name," said Charles reverently. Dawn had talked to him of her mother on their wedding trip.
"Daniel, there is something more that perhaps I ought to tell you. Did she tell you that she and I are married?"
"No," said Dan. His voice was shaking as he tried to take in the thought. It was as if he were expecting an unbearable pain in a nerve that had already throbbed its life out and was at rest. He was surprised to find how natural it seemed. Then he stammered out:
"I guess I must have known, though. She said she belonged to you, and so nobody else could take care of her."