No wonder Cliquot neighed low and quivered with delight when her small hand crept, as of old, under his mane, and the well-remembered “Up! up!” of his coltish days rang in his ears, giving him the signal when to do his best, that best which he had never done for any one but her.
The picture hanging in her room ever reminded Gwendoline of those “dear departed days.” That small rough sketch of mother and colt was taken when she little dreamed they would ever part, or, parting, meet again as they had done. At her father’s death, everything was sold; and she and her mother left the place they loved so well to seek a home in a city in another state, where she again met the horse and the man she loved.
By a strange fatality Emory had bought the creature, knowing nothing of his history. By the new name given him Gwendoline did not recognize her old “Notos” till she saw him led up on the track that dreadful day.
That night she woke from a wild and vivid dream of once more being seated on his back like a boy, firm and erect. She dreamed that, in scarlet jacket and jockey cap, she rode the race and won, gaining for the man who had been blind to the idolatry of years victory and a purse of gold. Then and there she seized the idea. She felt that her influence over that trembling, high-spirited steed would be as strong as in the olden days.
“Oh!” she murmured, “if I could but touch him! If I could but feel once more his bounding, quivering limbs beneath my own! For that alone I would risk my life, my beautiful! My beautiful!”
The blacksmith, Jess Peleg, who had lived on her father’s place, had moved with them and set up his forge just outside the city limits. Here Gwendoline often stopped in her carriage to exchange kindly greetings.
When a little girl, she had stood for hours, watching him at his work, while the light from the glowing coals shone on her face and hair. Sometimes, in the twilight, the man would turn to gaze upon her, as she lingered near; and, in the imperfect light, he would fancy it was the face of an angel. Strange that he alone should see the coming beauty so deeply hidden to all others who knew her!
Peleg had a little niece, whom, with his whole heart, the rough fellow loved, for she was his dead sister’s child.
Her father had gone to sea and left her with him and his wife, who lived in a cottage by the forge. There the “lady’s child” and the “laborer’s joy” grew fond of one another and Gwendoline taught the little Alice to read and sew and perform many other tasks.