we can encamp beside them and wait for the abating of the waters."
"But our provisions may give out," she suggested.
"Then we will look for game in the woods, and fish in the streams. No fear, little lady, that we shall not be fed."
Nell liked the title, and felt it restful to lean upon one who showed so much quiet confidence in – was it his own powers and resources or something higher?
The journey was a tedious and trying one, occupying several weeks; and Kenneth's office as leader of the party was no sinecure.
There were many vexatious delays, some occasioned by the wretched state of the roads, others incident to the moving of the cumbrous and heavily laden wagons; which latter might have been avoided had he travelled alone, or in company with none but equestrians.
But Kenneth was of too noble and unselfish a nature to grudge the cost of kindness to others.
And on him fell all the care and responsibility of directing, controlling, and providing ways and means; settling disputes among the drivers, and attending to the safety and comfort of the women and children.
These various duties were performed with the utmost fidelity, energy, and tact, and all annoyances borne with unvarying patience and cheerfulness; even Mrs. Barbour's peevish complainings and martyrlike airs failing to move him out of his quiet self-possession, or goad him into treating her with anything but the greatest courtesy and kindness.
He showed the same to all in the little company, and to those with whom they sought temporary lodgings here and there along the route; more especially to any who were sick, exercising his skill as a physician for their relief, and that without charge, though sometimes it cost him the loss of a much needed night's rest.
Mrs. Barbour was too completely wrapped up in herself and her own grievances, real or imaginary, to take note of these things beyond a passing feeling of wonder that Dr. Clendenin should bestow so much attention upon people who were not likely ever to make him any return; but ere the journey's end they had won for him a very high place in the respect and esteem of the other adults of the party, and in the hearts of the children.
Nell, who was often sorely tried by these same vexations and delays, formed an unbounded admiration for Kenneth's powers of forbearance and self-control.
She gave expression to it in talking with Mrs. Nash, as they found themselves alone for a few moments on the evening previous to their arrival at their destination.
"Yes," was the reply, "I am astonished at his patience; particularly with Nancy. She exasperates me beyond everything – she is such a martyr. Yes, always, in all places, and under all circumstances, she's a martyr."
CHAPTER III
Within five or six miles of Chillicothe an approaching horseman was espied by our travellers, and, as he drew near, Mrs. Nash and her two boys recognized him with a simultaneous cry of delight.
"Robert!"
"Father, father!"
To which he responded with a glad "Hurrah! so there you are at last!" as he put spurs to his horse and came dashing up to the side of the wagon containing his wife and children.
There was a halt of several minutes while joyous greetings, and eager questions and answers were exchanged; then leaving Mr. Nash in charge of the slow-moving vehicles, Kenneth and Nellie rode on toward the town.
It was the afternoon of a perfect day in May. Their path led them, now through the depths of a forest where grew in abundance the sugar maple, black walnut, buckeye, hackberry, cherry and other trees which give evidence of a rich soil; now across a beautiful prairie covered with grass from four to five feet high, and spangled with loveliest wild flowers, which with the blossoms of the plum tree, mulberry, crab apple and red and black haw, fringing the outer edge of the prairies, filled the air with delicious perfume, and feasted the eye with beauty.
Nellie was in ecstasies. "It is a paradise, Dr. Clendenin! is it not?" she cried.
"An earthly one," he answered with his grave kindly smile. "May you find much happiness in it, little lady."
"And you too, doctor," she said gaily, turning her bright, winsome face to his. "I'm sure you ought."
"You think it a duty to be happy? and you are right."
"A duty? I never thought of it in that light," she said laughing lightly.
"Ah! are we not bidden to be content with such things as we have, and to be always rejoicing?"
They had become excellent friends – these two – as day after day they rode side by side a little in advance of the wagons.
There was some ten years difference in their ages, a good deal seemingly at Nell's time of life. She looked up to Kenneth as to one much older and wiser than herself, and won by his ever ready sympathy and interest, talked to him with the charming frankness of her confiding nature and extreme youth. She told the history of her past years, particularly the last five, which had been spent in a boarding school in Philadelphia, and about the brother she was going to: – how he fought bravely for his country in the Continental army, had been taken prisoner by the British, what he had suffered on one of those dreadful prison-ships, till peace at last set him free, that he had married since and now had a family of children.
He was very much older than herself, she explained, being the eldest born while she was the youngest, and as both parents had died while she was a mere infant, he was like a father to her. Kenneth seldom spoke of himself, but she sometimes led him on by her questions to talk of his home at Glen Forest, his mother and Marian, for both of whom he evidently cherished a deep and tender affection.
Nell remarked that she had seen them at church once or twice, had thought Mrs. Clendenin very sweet and noble looking, and Marian the loveliest of little girls.
"You read them both aright," was Kenneth's answer, with a look and smile that made him, Nell thought, the handsomest man she had ever seen.
"If he were not quite so old," she said to herself, "perhaps, I don't know, but perhaps I might fall in love with him. It would be very foolish though, for of course he could never care for such a silly young thing as I am."
She had observed that he seemed a skilful physician and surgeon, and had discovered that he could tell her a vast deal about trees and plants and the birds and wild animals of the woods through which they passed.
They had never met in Philadelphia though living there at the same time, but it was pleasant to talk with him about the city and its various attractions.
So they had not been at a loss for subjects of conversation, nor were they to-day.
Silence fell between them for a few moments after Kenneth's last remark, then Nell said, with a saucy smile, "So you, I suppose, are never sad, Dr. Clendenin."
"Alas, Miss Lamar," he answered with a far away look in his eyes, an expression of keen anguish sweeping across his features, yet passing away so quickly that she could hardly feel sure it had been there, "my theory and practice do not always agree."
"Well," said she, "I don't believe there is anybody in the world who is not sad at times. Yet we have a great deal to make us glad, and just now I feel as blithe as a bird. We are coming to a river."
"Yes, the Scioto."
"Oh, then
