“Now, John, you are jesting.”
“Indeed—indeed I am not.”
“Do you really mean to say that it was you who ran against my— Oh! you must be jesting!”
“Again I say I am not. I am the man—the coward.”
“Well, dear John,” said Milly, flushing considerably, “I must believe you; but the fact does not in the least reduce my affection for you, though it will lower my belief in your prudence, unless you can explain.”
“I will explain,” said Barret; and we need scarcely add that the explanation tended rather to increase than diminish Milly’s affection for, as well as her belief in, her lover! But when Barret went on further to describe the meeting in the Eagle Pass, she went off into uncontrollable laughter.
“And you are sure that mother has no idea that you are the man?” she asked.
“Not the remotest.”
“Well, now, John, you must not let her know for some time yet. You must gain her affections, sir, before you venture to reveal your true character.”
Of course Barret agreed to this. He would have agreed to anything that Milly proposed, except, perhaps, the giving up of his claim to her own hand. Deception, however, invariably surrounds the deceiver with more or less of difficulty. That same evening, while Milly was sitting alone with her mother, the conversation took a perplexing turn.