"Were I ever to choose the 'rock, cave and desert,'" said Ralph, "I believe I should wish my solitary life, after all, to be terminated, as was the Solitude of Edwin, in the ballad of Goldsmith; that is, if I could ever hope that any Angelina would seek the solitude I sought. But I suppose that "Angelinas" are the creatures of poetry."
"And why not Edwins, too?" inquired Ruth, with an arch smile.
"And why, since we are asking questions," asked Ralph, with a look that brought a blush to the cheek of his companion, "may I not ask Miss Barton——"
But the question, however important to the happiness of either, or both of them, was interrupted by a sudden rustling of dry underbrush in their immediate vicinity, as if trodden upon by a hasty foot. Ralph turned suddenly round, and beheld the ill-natured countenance of Guthrie before him. The squatter stopped short, leaning upon his rifle, and said, with an attempt at civility, but in a gruff tone:
"You're a stranger in these parts, friend, and don't know that you may find it a little dangerous traveling through this forest by night."
"Dangerous, Guthrie! how so?" inquired Ruth.
"You, who live up at the cottage, Miss Ruth, mayn't know it, but the wolves have been prowling around here in reg'lar troops, for a few days past; and it will be dark now, afore you can get back to the cottage. I had a set-to with a rascally troop of them, last night."
Ralph thanked Guthrie for his caution, although he was half angry at the interruption, at that particular moment of time, and intimated to Ruth that perhaps they had better return. Ruth assented, the horses were unfastened, and they proceeded at a leisurely pace towards home, although more rapidly than they had come.
The labor and perplexity of making their way along the rough path and among the underbrush were such as to prevent any continued conversation. By the time they had traveled half a mile, the sun, with a broad, ruddy glow, had sunk behind the western hills. The twilight in the midst of the forest soon gave way to a deep shade, which rendered their path still more difficult.
Ralph, who had at first inwardly cursed the interruption made by Guthrie, in a conversation which had reached a point most deeply interesting to him, now almost wished that it had occurred a little earlier. Ruth evidently entertained the same thought, for her countenance exhibited much anxiety.