The Ghost of Guir House

The forest was beginning to take on its autumnal tints, but Mr.

Henley's conscience barred his thorough enjoyment of the scene. They

followed the bank of a brook where wild ivy and rhododendrons

clustered. They climbed steep places and descended others, and

crossed a little river, where rocks and a rushing torrent made the

ford seem dangerous. It was lonely, but exquisitely beautiful, and

the mountain ridges closed about them on every hand.

The twilight was rapidly giving way to the soft illumination of a

full moon; and it was not until Paul noticed this, that he began to

ask himself, "Where are we going?" He could not put the question to

the girl, and expose his ignorance of a matter which he might

reasonably be supposed to know.

After a prolonged silence, Henley ventured to observe that he had

never been in the State of Virginia before, hoping that the remark

might lead to some information from his driver; but she only looked

at him with a wondering expression, and after a minute, with eyebrows

lifted, said: "And I have never been out of it."

Paul would have liked to pursue the conversation, but did not know

how to do it. So far from gaining any information, he felt that he

was sinking deeper in the mire. "After all," he reflected, "there are

worse things in life than being run away with by a pretty girl, even

if one doesn't happen to know exactly where she is taking him, and

even if she doesn't happen to know exactly whom she is taking." He

stretched out his feet and leaned back, resigned to his fate.

Not a house had been passed in more than a mile. The road was

deserted, and Paul's interest in future developments steadily

growing.

Suddenly there was a terrible crash, and Mr. Henley's side of the

cart collapsed. Dorothy drew up the horse and exclaimed: "There! It is the spring. I was afraid it would break!"

"Too much weight on my side, Miss Guir," said Paul, jumping to the

ground.

"It is not that; it was weak; and I should have remembered to place

your luggage on my side. It is too unfortunate."

"What are we to do?" inquired Henley.

"It is difficult to say. We are miles from home, and the road is

rough."

She was examining the broken spring by the uncertain light, and

seemed perplexed.

"Can I not lead the horse while we walk?" suggested Paul.

"We could, but the break is too bad. I fear the body of the cart will

fall from the axle. But stop; there is one thing I can do. There is a

smith about half a mile from here, upon another road, which leaves

this about a hundred yards ahead. I will drive on alone to the shop,

and, although it is late, I feel sure the man will do the work for

me. You, Mr. Henley, will wait here for the stage, which will be due

directly. Tell the driver to put you off at the Guir Road, where you

can wait until I come along to pick you up. The distance is not

great, and I will follow as quickly as possible."