"No; those wretches in uncle's stables did not half buckle the girth,
and, as I was going in a hard gallop up the steep, it flew apart and
gave me a tumble; that's all," said Cap, desisting a moment from her
occupation to take breath.
"You were not hurt?" inquired Craven, with deep interest in his tone.
"Oh, no; there is no harm done, except to my riding skirt, which has
been torn and muddied by the fall," said Cap, laughing and resuming her
efforts to tighten the girth.
"Pray permit me," said Craven, gently taking the end of the strap from
her hand; "this is no work for a lady, and, besides, is beyond your
strength."
Capitola, thanking him, withdrew to the side of the road, and, seating
herself upon the trunk of a fallen tree, began to brush the dirt from
her habit.
Craven adjusted and secured the saddle with great care, patted and
soothed the pony and then, approaching Capitola in the most deferential
manner, stood before her and said: "Miss Black, you will pardon me, I hope, if I tell you that the peril
I had imagined you to be in has so agitated my mind as to make it
impossible for me longer to withhold a declaration of my sentiments----"
Here his voice, that had trembled throughout this disclosure, now
really and utterly failed him.
Capitola looked up with surprise and interest; she had never in her
life before heard an explicit declaration of love from anybody. She and
Herbert somehow had always understood each other very well, without
ever a word of technical love-making passing between them; so Capitola
did not exactly know what was coming next.
Craven recovered his voice, and encouraged by the favorable manner in
which she appeared to listen to him, actually threw himself at her feet
and, seizing one of her hands, with much ardor and earnestness and much
more eloquence than any one would have credited him with, poured forth
the history of his passion and his hopes.
"Well, I declare!" said Cap, when he had finished his speech and was
waiting in breathless impatience for her answer; "this is what is
called a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage, is it? It is
downright sentimental, I suppose, if I had only sense enough to
appreciate it! It is as good as a play; pity it is lost upon me!"
"Cruel girl! how you mock me!" cried Craven, rising from his knees and
sitting beside her.
"No, I don't; I'm in solemn earnest. I say it is first rate. Do it
again; I like it!"