She drew down his face to hers, and kissed him.
“But I wished you to be reconciled with your father,” she said; “I could not bear to come between you. You—you are reconciled, aren't you?”
“Indeed, we are,” he said.
“I am glad, Bob,” she answered simply. “I should not have been happy if I had driven you away from the place where you should be, which is your home.”
“Wherever you are will be my home; sweetheart,” he said, and pressed her to him once more.
At length, looking past his shoulder into the street, she saw Lem Hallowell pulling up the Brampton stage before the door.
“Bob,” she said, “I must go to Coniston and see Uncle Jethro. I promised him.”
Bob's answer was to walk into the entry, where he stood waving the most joyous of greetings at the surprised stage driver.
“I guess you won't get anybody here, Lem,” he called out.
“But, Bob,” protested Cynthia, from within, afraid to show her face just then, “I have to go, I promised. And—and I want to go,” she added when he turned.