"Oh, no," she responded. She glanced up at the sky. Unnoticed by him a

cloud had drifted over the Langdale pikes, as the range of high

mountain is called. "It is going to rain, and heavily."

"And you have no umbrella, waterproof!" exclaimed Stafford.

She laughed with girlish amusement.

"Umbrella? I don't think I have such a thing; and this cloth is nearly

waterproof; besides, I never notice the rain--here it comes!"

It came with a vengeance; it was as if the heavens had opened and let

down the bottom of a reservoir.

Stafford mechanically took off his coat.

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"Put this on," he said. "That jacket is quite light; you'll get wet

through."

Her face crimsoned, and she laughed a little constrainedly.

"Please put your coat on!" she said, gravely and earnestly. "_You_ will

be wet through, and you are not used to it. There is a shed round the

corner; ride there as quickly as you can."

Stafford stared at her, then burst into a laugh which echoed hers.

"And leave you here! Is it likely?"

"Well, let us both go," she said, as if amused by his obstinacy.

"Is it far?" he asked. "See if you can manage to balance on the

saddle--I would run beside you. It's all very well to talk of not

minding the rain, but this is a deluge."

She glanced at the horse.

"I couldn't get up--I could if he were barebacked, or if it were a

lady's saddle--it doesn't matter. Look, Donald and Bess are laughing at

you for making a fuss about a shower."

"Will you try--let me help you?" he pleaded. "I could lift you quite

easily--Oh, forgive me, but I'm not used to standing by and seeing a

girl get soaked."

"You are walking--not standing," she reminded him, solemnly.

Perhaps her smile gave him courage: he took her just below the

shoulders and lifted her on to the saddle, saying as he did so, and in

as matter-of-fact a voice as he could: "If you'll just put your hand on my shoulder, you'll find that you can

ride quite safely--though I expect you could do it without that--I've

seen you ride, you know."

He kept his eyes from her, so that he did not see the hot blush which

mantled in the clear ivory of her face, or the sudden tightening of the

lips, as if she were struggling against some feeling, and fighting for

her usual self-possession.




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