“You are mighty kind, Helen,” he said. “I don’t mistake myself; you see I have my own measure fairly accurately. Miss Dallas was saying the other day what came to almost the same thing that you’ve just said, only she didn’t get it from the same angle. I’ll try to play up when the time comes.” Helen’s horse leaped at the sudden pull which she gave the curb and the blow that she dealt him. The horse dashed away and Kit rapidly followed.
“Say, Helen, don’t give Jack-of-Spades surprise parties; he’s one of the sensible sort that doesn’t care for them, and he’s capable of giving a return surprise party,” Kit warned her, regaining his place at her bridle.
“I can conquer any fool brute I ever attempted!” said Helen, her colour high, her eyes flashing. Then she conquered herself.
“Did I scare you, good old Kit? You were the one I meant to surprise. Isn’t your aunt a dear to get me a horse like this? Isn’t she an old darling, anyway? She’s truly fond of me, I’m gratefully sure of that. It’s a big thing to win the love of a lonely old woman. She loves me next to you, Kit, and I’m not unappreciative. How these horses keep pace! What a pleasant thing it is to ride at the same gait, in unison of hoofbeats! That’s a sermon in brief, though unintentional, and it’s for you to draw the moral. So this is Daphne Woods! It’s the loveliest spot I ever saw. I’m glad that you are showing me this shadowy, green, mystic loveliness for the first time. We have many memories in common, my dear old pal. Daphne Woods is a dream. Don’t let me waken, Kit!”
CHAPTER IX
Soundings
HELEN and Kit rode on through the verdant shade of Daphne Woods with few words spoken between them. At times the brown accumulations of the leaves of past springs deadened the sound of the horses’ feet, but oftener their rhythm was distinctly beaten out on the perfectly kept road.
“Riding at the same gait, in unison of hoofbeats.” Kit found himself dwelling on the words as if they were an oracle’s prophecy and its fulfilment.
Was it possible that Helen meant what she surely conveyed? Was it possible that a nice girl would intentionally convey it?
Helen rode on pensively sweet and preoccupied. She rode somewhat in advance of Kit; the honest boy thought that it was to hide her face. He was right, but by inversion; Helen wanted Kit to see her back, which she had been told was provocatively graceful on horseback. He felt, as he had repeatedly felt in this visit of hers, that he did not know her. The Helen of her exhortation to him he knew, keen-witted, worldly, strong-willed, but this girl? Gentle, wistful, affectionate, dependent, almost child-like in appeal for sympathy? This was another Helen; this one might be as lovable as the other was dazzling. Suddenly she turned to Kit, resting her hand on her saddle, swinging halfway around in it to face him.