Mr. Withers knew that Daphne was not lightened of her trouble,
nor was he in his heart content with the point he had gained. The unwonted
touch of self-assertion it had called for rested uneasily on him; and he
could not but own that he had made himself Daphne's apologist, which no
confessor ought to be, in this disguise by which he named the deception he
was now helping her to maintain.
After a time, when Daphne had called his attention to the fact, he agreed
that it was indeed strange their companions did not return; they had been
gone an hour or more to find a spring said to be not half a mile away.
Daphne proposed to climb the grade and see if they were yet in sight, Mr.
Withers consenting. Indeed, under the stress of his thoughts, her absence
was a sensible relief.
From the hilltop looking down she could see the way they had gone; the
crooked gulch, a garment's crease in the great lap of the table-land,
sinking to the river. She saw no one, heard no sound but the senseless
hurry and bluster of the winds,--coming from no one knew where, going none
cared whither. It blew a gale in the bright sunlight, mocking her efforts
to listen.
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