So uneasy did he become, in his sensitive concern for
Mrs. Peyton's half-concealed mortification, that he gladly accepted
Peyton's offer to go with him to visit the farm and corral. As the
afternoon approached, with another twinge of self-reproach, he was
obliged to invent some excuse to decline certain hospitable plans
of Mrs. Peyton's for his entertainment, and at half past three stole
somewhat guiltily, with his horse, from the stables. But he had to pass
before the outer wall of the garden and grille, through which he had
seen Mary the day before. Raising his eyes mechanically, he was startled
to see Mrs. Peyton standing behind the grating, with her abstracted gaze
fixed upon the wind-tossed, level grain beyond her. She smiled as she
saw him, but there were traces of tears in her proud, handsome eyes.
"You are going to ride?" she said pleasantly.
"Y-e-es," stammered the shamefaced Clarence.
She glanced at him wistfully.
"You are right. The girls have gone away by themselves. Mr. Peyton has
ridden over to Santa Inez on this dreadful land business, and I suppose
you'd have found him a dull riding companion. It is rather stupid here.
I quite envy you, Mr. Brant, your horse and your freedom."
"But, Mrs. Peyton," broke in Clarence, impulsively, "you have a horse--I
saw it, a lovely lady's horse--eating its head off in the stable. Won't
you let me run back and order it; and won't you, please, come out with
me for a good, long gallop?"
He meant what he said.
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