"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps you were angry, too."
"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was bold to send for you?"
"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel.
"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh. "Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more."
"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel.
"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested—well, it is all a dream to me. I didn't know before that one could be perfectly happy and completely miserable at the same time."
Then, for the first time since he had entered the carriage she looked at him. Her eyes met his, and—well, nothing more was said for some time. Nan had as much as she could do to straighten her hat, and get her hair smoothed out as it should be, so that people wouldn't know that she and Gabriel were engaged. That was what she said, and she was so cute and lovely, so sweet and gentle that Gabriel threatened to crush the hat and get the hair out of order again. And they were very happy.
When they arrived at Shady Dale, Gabriel insisted that Nan go home with him, and he gave what seemed to the young woman a very good reason. "You know, Nan, my grandmother has been Bethuning me every time I mentioned your name, and I have heard her Bethuning you. We'll just go in hand in hand and tell her the facts in the case."
"Hand in hand, Gabriel? Wouldn't she think I was very bold?"
"No, Nan," replied Gabriel, very emphatically. "There are two things my grandmother believes in. She believes in her Bible, and she believes in love."