"Any longer way would be the more beautiful way!" said Robert.
The reply interested Barbara, and in musing over it she forgot to say anything more.
The wood-road, thick-carpeted with turf and moss, muffled the horses' hoofs, and an enchanted silence sank into the hearts of the young riders. Here and there the woods gave back for a little clearing with a lonely cabin; and the moonlight flooded in; and around the edges of the clearing the thick-leaved branches seemed afloat, bubbles of glass and silver on a sea of dream. Then, again, the fairy-lit glooms, haunted but unterrifying! And Barbara began to think repentantly of her harshness toward Robert. Soon the road dipped sharply, and crossed a wide, shallow brook, upon whose pebbles the horses' hoofs splashed a light music. Here they let the horses drink a mouthful, because Barbara said the waters of that brook were especially sweet. When they emerged on the other side, Barbara discovered she wanted a drink of it herself, so sovereign were the virtues of that water.
"How shall I bring it to you?" asked Robert, instantly dismounting, and casting a hasty glance about him in quest of a birch-tree, from whose bark to make a cup.
"Make me a cup of your hands, of course!" said Barbara. "Give me your reins. I must have the water, at once!"
Robert removed his leather gloves, rinsed his hands in the sliding sand, and then, with mighty painstaking care, got at least two mouthfuls of the crystal uplifted to Barbara's lips. As she sipped, and light as a moth her lips touched his hands, his heart seemed to turn over in his breast, and he could not find voice for a word. Silently he remounted, and in silence they ascended the slope from the brook. His apparent unresponsiveness puzzled Barbara; but an awakening intuition suggested to her that it was perhaps not so uncomplimentary as it might seem; and she was not displeased.
For half an hour they walked their horses thus, Robert sometimes laying a light hand on Black Prince's shoulder or satiny flank, but never daring to touch so much as Barbara's skirt. Then they saw the highway opening ahead of them, a ribbon of moonlit road. Barbara reined up.
"I think my saddle is slipping a little," said she. "I don't believe Amos can have girt it tight enough!"
"Why, I—" began Robert, about to remind her that, like a good horseman, he had himself looked well to the girth before letting her mount. But he cut the words short on his tongue, sprang from his saddle, and busied himself intently with Black Prince's straps. When he raised his head, Barbara smiled down upon him, and reached him her left hand, saying sweetly:
"Thank you, Robert. You are really very nice, you know!"