Margaret Maliphant

								

"Nonsense!" cried I, impatiently.
I hated to have Joyce seem as though she mistrusted my power of
managing a restive horse, and I hated equally to have her show herself
off as a woman with nerves. I had already got up into my place, and I
now took the reins from her hands and prepared to give the mare her
head.
"I think I shall walk, Margaret," said Joyce, in a voice which I knew
meant that there would be no persuading her from her purpose. She was
not generally obstinate, but when she was frightened she would not
listen to any reason.
Rather than have a scene, I knew it would be best to give in.
"Very well; then we will both walk," said I. "You had better get down,
and I will drive on and put the cart up at the inn. Reuben will have to
walk out this evening and take it home."
I know I spoke crossly; it was wrong, but I was annoyed. However,
before Joyce had had time to get down I saw that our new friend had
gone round to the other side of the dog-cart and was talking to her.
"Miss Maliphant," said he--and I could not help remarking what a
charming manner he had, and what a fascinating way of fixing his
wide-open light-brown eyes full in the face of the person to whom
he was speaking, and yet that without anything bold in the doing of
it--"Miss Maliphant, will you let me drive you and your sister home? I
know how uncomfortable it is to be nervous, and I don't think you would
be frightened if I were driving, for, you see, I understand the mare
quite well."
Joyce blushed, and I bit my lip. It certainly was very mortifying to
have a perfect stranger setting himself up as a better whip than I was.
Joyce answered, "Oh, thank you, I don't think we could trouble you to
do that," she said, with a bend of her pretty head.
"It would be no trouble," replied he, looking at her. "I am going in
your direction." He did not say it eagerly, only with a pleasant smile
as though his offer were made out of pure politeness.
I looked at him. He was young and handsome, and he was most certainly
a gentleman, for he had the most perfect and easy manners that I had
ever met with in any man; and he was looking at Joyce as I fancied a
man might look at the woman whom he could love. Suddenly all my offence
at his want of respect to my powers of driving evaporated; for a
thought flashed across my mind. Might this be the lover of whom I had
dreamed for my beautiful sister? He had learned her name beforehand;
therefore he must have seen her, and also have been sufficiently
attracted by her to wish to find out who she was.
Why was it not possible that he had fallen in love with her at first
sight, and that he had sought this opportunity of knowing her? Such
things had been known to happen, and Joyce was certainly beautiful
enough to account for any ardor in an admirer. I stood a moment
undecided myself. A young man from the shop where I had made my little
purchase came out and put the parcel in the dog-cart. He held another