As she entered leisurely the door of her home, and was met by her maid in the hall, who relieved her of her wraps, she made known her intention of leaving on the morrow, and gave instructions to her to have everything in readiness for their departure. She then went from the rear porch of the house in the direction of the coachman’s quarters, to notify Thomas to make preparations desired. This, she had persuaded herself, was her real reason for going to the locality set apart for the horses; but, was it?
No sooner had Thomas been found than the very first question asked him was pertaining to the welfare of his charge. A few moments later, it was she who was gently caressing the milk-white, deer-head of the mare, with her soft hands, now stroking the shiny neck, now encircling it within her arms, while the warm breath from the pink nostrils fanned at intervals her fair brow, sending a-whirl some truant lock of her wavy hair.
“Thomas,” she now said, turning a face full of inquiry upon the coachman, who had stood with a look of amazement, gazing upon the manifest interest and affection of the young mistress, “what is her name?”
“Well, ma’am,” he replied, assuming the air now of one who feels the importance of being the proud possessor of some rare bit of information, “ever since she played in the paddock, three years ago now, by her mother’s side, and the master would come and take her little head in his hands, just as you have, ma’am, and pinch her cheeks, and laugh at her odd pranks, he called her Cassandra.”
“Cassandra!” she repeated. “Then he must have loved her?”
“Oh, indeed he did, ma’am, she was his favorite, and the trainer knew it, too.”
“Thomas, we start for San Francisco in the morning. You are to go, and have in your especial care, Cassandra. When you have arrived there deliver her again into the hands of the trainer, with instructions that the best of attention be shown her.”
“Thanky, ma’am,” said Thomas. “I’m proud of my charge, ma’am, indeed I am, for she’s a plum picture.”
IV
Five weeks passed. With her aunt beside her, and with Thomas upon the box, the mistress was sweeping through a bright avenue in the far Western city. The sky had forgotten the storm of the day before, and the splendor of a noonday sun now slept upon its bosom. Nature was smiling, but the smile was not wholly in accord with the feelings of the mistress. A restless, fitful mood had settled upon her in the early morning, and she had ordered the drive, as she now frequently did, to the race course.