“Yes, I will go, mamma, and I will try to be as agreeable as possible. I want to please you, just now. I dare say it will be all right in the end.” A smile crept slowly over the lips of the speaker, and she repeated, quite low, “In the end!”
And so the note was answered, accepting Col. Coutell’s invitation to Miss Gwinn for a ride on horseback that afternoon—a gallop on her own little mare, the one relic of departed glory. When her mother left the room a few minutes later, the girl turned her head as she lay back in her chair, and looked around the pretty parlor, a dainty little place, with brightness over all. The cottage piano stood open and a piece of new music was on the rack—she played a little, now and then. On the wall, over the instrument, hung a colored crayon picture of a little gray poodle, holding a handkerchief in his mouth—a jolly face, with big brown eyes, over which the fluffy hair hung. There was a landscape at the back, and in the distance a brown mare and colt were grazing.
“Poor little Fluffy,” murmured the girl, “how he loved me—and they are all gone!”
Her face grew inexpressibly sad as she gazed on the portrait. That day, after dinner, as they sat for awhile in the parlor, Mrs. Gwinn remarked:
“Gwendoline, that picture’s the only ugly thing in here.”
Next morning it hung in Gwendoline’s own room.
Emory met the pair later in the evening, returning from their ride, and it seemed to him that never had Gwendoline looked so beautiful, her dark green habit fitting to perfection and the loveliness of her soft eyes enhanced by the glow of health on her cheek. They were riding slowly through the park and stopped for a moment to speak to him. The tall form of the Colonel showed well on horseback, and, in the gathering twilight, he appeared almost a young man.
Emory received his congratulations on his success in securing a jockey.
“I trust he will do,” said Coutell, “and we will yet see the race.”
“Thanks,” replied Neil. “I am sure he’ll suit, though I fear somewhat for the fellow’s life. There’s no counting on such horses.”