A breath of soft spring wind went bounding over the road, rolling some brown twigs of the previous autumn before it.

The horse paced leisurely on, unguided.
"Tell me," he said, softly, "that you love me." Her eyes fell consciously.
"Own to it, dear," he said, feelingly; "you do, don't you ?" She made no answer, but he felt his victory.
"Tell me," he said, richly, drawing her so close that their lips were near together.

He pressed her hand warmly, and then released it to touch her cheek.
"You do ?" he said, pressing his lips to her own.
For answer, her lips replied.
"Now," he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, "you're my own girl, aren't you ?" By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon his shoulder..