“Do you want to hear some sweet music?” she asked.
“I have heard it all the way from the house to this place,” he said, gallantly.
“Nay, listen!” and she stepped to the heads of the horses, ran her hand lightly over their faces and softly called them by name.
A low, quivering neigh answered her.
“They know you,” said Maury; “how sweetly it sounds!”
She quickly opened the gate, and he drove through. It shut with a clang behind them, and he was about to get out to help her in, when she stopped him.
“Never do that! Always remain seated to take care of the horses. You can assist me quite as well from where you sit.”
“But I thought you knew my steeds and were not afraid of them?”
“Nor am I; but do as I tell you; my father taught me that it was right.”
So saying, she was beside him in a moment, and they drove out into the open moonlight. Yes! the queen of night rode high above them, shedding her lustre upon the white turnpike that lay before them, like a sheet of snow. Long years after, they remembered that ride—the flowery lanes and sweet night breeze. She was happy with this slim, bright boy. His gay talk and laughter amused her. No care for the morrow filled her heart. She pulled off her tennis cap to catch the winds of heaven upon her brow, and, as they sped on, the mellow ringing sound of those eight hoofs upon the road reminded her of her old home.