"I do indeed," she acknowledged. "In fact," she added laughingly, "I think, by rights, this woods belongs exclusively to us and our love, and I consider any one else guilty of sacrilegious effrontery in even walking through its sacred precincts. But you don't appear in especially radiant spirits, my friend, even though we are together in our hallowed woods," she said presently as he walked silently by her side.
"How can I be in radiant humor, Betty?" he retorted sadly. "This restraint and concealment are becoming unendurable to me. We are nearly to the bars now where you say I must turn back, and I must first have some serious words with you. For three months and more, I have obeyed your behest and have kept aloof from your house; but patience ceases to be a virtue. I am no nearer winning your father to a more cordial frame of mind than I was at first. On the contrary, in the few times I have encountered him of late, he has appeared to be getting colder and more formal, and I really believe this is due in a great measure to his suspecting that there is a secret understanding between you and me. He is a straightforward man and likes straightforward courses. Moreover, how can I ever win his consent to our marriage unless I ask him? That's only common sense; and furthermore, anything underhanded or clandestine is as obnoxious to me as to him."
"Oh," she begged with a frightened look, "please wait a little longer. He's sure to be in a more pliable humor after awhile, when this horrid old church difficulty is settled. Oh, Abner, my love, I know it is hard, but——"
"How hard," he interrupted gloomily, "you are far from realizing. These miserable weeks of suppression and concealment have worn my patience and self-control to the breaking-point. Now," he went on firmly, "I will wait no longer. I will see your father to-morrow. Patience, forsooth!" he ejaculated in answer to her further pleading, "when I'm debarred from entering your home, must be satisfied with an occasional stolen interview like this; when, too, I know that James Drane is a frequent and welcome guest at Oaklands! How can I help being moody and bitter and harassed? Sometimes I think I have overcome my former dislike for Drane; for he is, to give him his due, invariably cordial to me—in fact, he seems to seek and to enjoy my company—but when I think of him as a favored guest at your father's house while I'm prohibited from entering its doors, and while you, my betrothed wife, beg me not to come near the house, is it any wonder I am harassed? He was at Oaklands again yesterday, was he not?"
"Yes, he was; but that is of no moment," Betty answered frankly. "He is dad's friend, not mine. I treat him courteously, of course; but that——"
"Your father may consider himself the magnet that draws Drane to Oaklands," sneered Abner; "but I know better, and so do you, my girl. The attraction for him is very different. The fellow's in love with you. That's plain. 'He who runs may read.'"
"And he who reads had better run!" retorted Betsy, now thoroughly nettled, "if this reading construes anything I do or say into encouragement of this lawyer." And her eyes snapped wickedly, she drew herself up haughtily, and her face grew pale and set.
"No, dear," Abner replied, undaunted by her anger. "I do not mean that. You must not catch up my words in that way. I know the truth and steadfastness of your nature too well to believe that you encourage or coquette with Drane or any other man. My meaning is this: your father likes Drane and thinks so highly of his brilliant prospects that the mere fact that he is a possible suitor for your hand will dispose your father to think with the less favor of my pretensions. And indeed, Betty dear, though I do not for a moment think you encourage the fellow, still what I have said of the situation is true in regard to his feelings and intentions; he wears his heart upon his sleeve."
"That he does not!" returned Betty with spirit; "not all of his heart, at any rate; only such portions as are fit for public perusal. There's much in his heart that would, I'm convinced, make queer reading, if one could see into the depths of that well-controlled organ of his. You see, I haven't got over my original instinct of distrust of James Drane, if you have. Let him make love to me! Bah! I'd sooner listen to the uncouth love phrases of the veriest clodhopper in Bourbon County than to his honeyed, courtly utterances. Oh, there comes father!" she broke off abruptly, looking across the woods.
When Major Gilcrest came up to the couple, his conduct fully justified what Abner had been telling Betty. He nodded curtly to the young man, asked Betty where she had been, and appeared little pleased when she told him. Then, reminding her that it was getting late and that her mother would be anxious, he advised her not to linger.