The heiress of Greenhurst

by Ann S. Stephens

I knew that it was wrong—that I should be sorry enough for it before night, but in my willfulness this only gave a keener zest to the enjoyment I proposed to myself.

Away we went, Jupiter and I, dashing through the trees, over the velvet sward, and across the broad avenues, along which the morning sunshine lay in rivers of light. The branches rained down their ripe brown and golden leaves on me as I passed; and a crisp white frost that lay like quicksilver among the grass, gave forth a rasping sound more exhilarating than music, as Jupiter’s feet flew over it. The air was clear and bright, with mingled frost and sunshine as it fell upon my face and swept my garments. The blood kindled like wine in my veins. I was wild with the joyousness of free motion, ready for leaping a ditch, flying through the air—any thing wild or daring that had life and quick motion in it.

Away we went toward the uplands, from which a view of Marston Court could be obtained. I thought of the strange man who had surprised me on that spot as we rushed along—laughed aloud as I remembered how Jupiter and I had baffled him once, how ready we were to do it again. I longed to see him, not for any specified purpose. Nothing then was important enough to have kept me motionless a moment. But abroad as I was, with a wild thirst for adventure of any kind, it would have been something like the excitement I wanted, could the mysterious language with which he cursed me have threatened us with danger once more.

But though I searched for this being, riding around and over the eminence on which he had appeared but once, nothing but the cool, beautiful solitude rewarded me. The luxurious stretch of country between me and Marston Court, brown, hazy, and many-tinted, with the picturesque old building looming up through the rich shadows—all its clear outlines drowned in soft autumnal colors—all its hoariness and age mellowed down and lost in the dreamy distance—this rare view, with the upland on which we stood, was wrapped in quiet. Not a human being was in sight.

A strange desire seized me to visit this building, which had so often charmed me with its loneliness and beauty. It was some miles distant. I knew that, but Jupiter had merely tried his strength as yet, simply breathed himself in our progress to the uplands. He had been shut up in the stable for days, and seemed as wild for action as his mistress.

“Shall we try it, Jupiter?” I said, smoothing his mane with my whip. “There is a glorious run for us, Jupiter, as we have determined to be disobedient and naughty. Ju! suppose we do something worth while?”

At the sound of my voice, the pony began to quiver his ears, and snuffed the air saucily, as if he knew some mischief was afloat, and was eager for his share.

“Come, then,” and I gathered up the bridle, shaking it gleefully. Jupiter gave his head a toss, and away we went toward Marston Court.

The eminence lay behind, and we were in a thickly wooded little valley, moving rather slowly, for I was charmed by broken glimpses of a small stream that flashed up from the shadows, when the having of hounds, the tramp of horses, and a wild confusion of sounds swept down the hollow. Before I could tighten my reins, a stag shot by me, so close that Jupiter reared with a wild snort, almost flinging me backward from the saddle.

The stag, a noble animal, cleared the stream with one desperate bound, and for an instant I saw him turn his great, wild eyes, glowing with pain and terror through the shadows. Blood-specked foam dropped from his jaws; and his strained limbs quivered with an agony of terror, that made me tremble upon my saddle with sympathy.