cents, made
ready for morning's "bridal of the earth and sky ":--

"_As a vesture shall he fold them up. . . . In them hath he set a
tabernacle for the sun; which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his
chamber, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course_."

Darkling they rode, and in silence, as though by consent. Ruth had
never travelled this high way before: it glimmered across a country of
which she knew nothing and could see nothing. But no shadow of fear
crossed her spirit. Her heart was hushed; yet it exulted, because her
lord rode beside her.

They had ridden thus without speech for three or four miles, when her
chestnut blundered, tripped, and was almost down.

"All right?" he asked, as she reined up and steadied the mare.

"Yes. . . . She gave me a small fright, though."

"What happened? It looked to me as if she came precious near crossing
her feet. If she repeats that trick by daylight I'll cast her--as I
would to-morrow, if I were sure."

"Is it so bad a trick?"

"It might break your neck. It would certainly bring her down and break
her knees."

"Oh!" Ruth shivered. "Do you mean that it would actually break them?"
she asked in her ignorance.

He laughed. "Well, that's possible; but I meant the skin of the knee."

"That would heal, surely?"

He laughed again. "A horse is like a woman--" he began, but checked
himself of a sudden. She waited for him to continue, and he went on,
"It knocks everything off the price, you see. Some won't own a horse
that has once been down; and any knowledgeable man can tell, at a
glance. It is the first thing he looks for."

She considered for a moment. "But if the mark had been a scratch only--
and the scratch had healed--might she not be as good a horse as ever?"

"It would damage her price, none the less."

"But you are not a horse-dealer. Would _you_ value a horse by its
selling price?"

He laughed. "I am afraid," he owned, "that I should be ruled by other
men's opinions. Your connoisseur does not collect chipped chinaware.
. . . There's the chance, too, that the mare, having once fallen, will
throw herself again by the same trick."

"And women are like horses," thought Ruth as they rode on. The night
was paling about them, and she watched the rolling champaign as little
by little it took shape, emerging from the morning mist and passing from
monochrome into faint colours: for albeit the upper sky was clear as
ever, mist filled the hollo