He saw that she was yielding, and, unlatching the gate, quickly drew her outside, placing her small, trembling hand on his arm, and leading her to the waiting trap.
A moment more, and he was lifting her into the elegant little trap, drawn by a magnificent blooded bay horse, whose silver-mounted harness glittered in the moonlight. Seating himself by her side, he took up the reins, and away they went through the town and out upon the broad country road, where the air, with the salty tang from the sea, was fresh and sweet and exhilarating.
“Almost seems like eloping, does it not?” laughed Charley Bonair. “What if it were so, dear little girl?”
Berry caught her breath with a startled gasp, a dizzy suspicion running through her mind.
Did he mean it?
Was it an elopement sure enough? Was he taking her away to marry her, now, to-night?
What would Rosalind Montague say?
She never dreamed of resisting if such were his will.
Poor little Berry was under the intoxicating spell of a maiden’s first love, and it did not seem to her as if her splendid hero could do anything wrong.
The bay horse flew over the smooth road, the fresh air blew in their faces, lifting the soft curls from Berry’s white brow, and she felt like one in Elysium. She was dwelling in a new and beautiful world, the golden land of love.