Barbara and Roger watched them as they went slowly up the tawny road that trailed like a ribbon over the pageantry of the hill. When they came to the crossroads, where one road led to the church and the other into the boundless world beyond, Eloise leaned far out to wave a fluttering bit of white in farewell.
| "And on her lover's arm she leant, |
| And round her waist she felt it fold, |
| And far across the hills they went |
| In that new world which is the old," |
quoted Barbara, softly.
O'er the Hills
| "And o'er the hills, and far away, |
| Beyond their utmost purple rim, |
| Beyond the night, across the day, |
| Through all the world she followed him," |
added Roger.
The carriage was now only a black speck on the brow of the hill. Presently it descended into the Autumn sunset and vanished altogether.
"I'm glad they asked us," said Roger.
"Wasn't it dear of them!" cried Barbara, with her face aglow. "Oh, Roger, if I ever have a wedding, I want it to be just like that!"