ping trot, then
galloped; then gave the horse his head up a long hill. Proud Aleck,
excited by the gusty wind, sped like a racer over the bone-white winter
grasses. They faced the blast gloriously. The warm reek of the flying
horse blew back in Loring's face. He felt the great body plying nobly
against his legs. Now they swept downward, jumped a brook, leaped into
fallow. The huge horse seemed bounding over a floor of dark-red cloud,
so easily he took the ploughland of spongy clay, so noiselessly his
hoofs went over it. Now they breasted another hill. This was living! To
ride with the winter wind through the cold flame of moonlight to the
glowing hearth of his Lady!...

Would she be alone, he wondered--in her own study?... Or would she be
sitting with her sister and the Judge in the general living room?... He
cantered across the lawn. Ah--there was a flicker of firelight from her
study window!... Perhaps she was there. Perhaps he would have the joy of
seeing her alone, this first moment after those interminable six
weeks....

Mammy Nan told him that she opened "de do'" for him, "'caze Miss Chalt
an' dee Jedge done step over tuh dee Univussity, an' I'se sleepin' in
dee house tuh keep keer uv Miss Sophy."

Miss Sophy was "in her steddy," Mammy Nan further informed him. She
"sut'ny wuz glad he done come tuh cheer Miss Sophy up some. 'Peared
like, to Mammy Nan, that she'd ben a-mopin' ever sence Miss Chalt an'
dee Jedge tuck an' lef' her behine."

Loring found Sophy sitting in the firelight, gazing at the big logs of
hickory, and smoothing her collie's head as it rested against her knee.
The room was large but cosy. It had old-fashioned curtains of dark-red
worsted grosgrain at the windows. Little green "steps" set between them
held pots of flowers. There was all through the room a sweet scent of
rose-geranium, lemon verbena, and the clean, fresh fragrance of new-cut
logs. It was the perfume that he associated with her. He stood near the
door after entering, breathing deep of this pleasant, candid scent, and
drinking her with his eyes.

She looked up, startled. And he shook inwardly with the soft firelit
beauty of her face. She was wearing a gown that he loved--an old gown of
olive velveteen trimmed with narrow bands of fur. It was made like the
gown in a picture, quite straight from throat to shoe-tip. The long,
wide sleeves opened from the shoulder. They hid her arms usually; but
when she reached for something, her