"Will you mind riding before me, Miss Faith?"
"What, sir?" she said, not understanding.
"Will you let me take you across?"
"How can you, Mr. Linden?" she said, looking a little startled, and flushing.
"Very easily—on my horse. Stay where you are a minute, and let me try the ford." And not waiting for an answer to that, he rode down the bank and into the stream. It was easy enough, for a man who knew what to do with his horse's mouth; not easy, nor perhaps safe for another. The footing needed to be chosen by the hand of the rider; so chosen it was good. Mr. Linden rode to the other side and came back.
"Will you try, Miss Faith?"
"Yes," she said, putting her horse in motion,—"I am not afraid. I will follow you. It will be better than going round." But his horse did not stir.
"I shall not follow you, Miss Faith,—and yet if you cross it must be before me. No other way is safe for you."
"Well, we can go round, can't we?" said Faith.
"Yes," he said,—as the sun dropped down behind the low horizon, and the cool shade fell on everything but the tree tops. "You know it is about six times as far. Are you afraid of my horse?"