"
"You look troubled," was her answer. "Poor boy! I pray God to
keep you unspotted of the world." She was ever fearing unhappy
news of the mystery--that something evil would come out of it.
As Trove rode away he took account of all he owed those good people
who had been mother and father to him. What a pleasure it would
give him to lay that goodly sum in the lap of his mother and bid
her spend it with no thought of economy.
The mare knew him as one may know a brother. There was in her
manner some subtle understanding of his mood. Her master saw it in
the poise of her head, in the shift of her ears, and in her tender
way of feeling for his hand. She, too, was looking right and left
in the fields. There were the scenes of a boyhood, newly but
forever gone. "That's where you overtook me on the way to school,"
said he to Phyllis, for so the tinker had named her.
She drew at the rein, starting playfully as she heard his voice,
and shaking his hand as if to say, "Oh, master, give me the rein.
I will bear you swiftly to happiness."
Trove looked down at her proudly, patting the silken arch of her
neck. If, as Darrel had once told him, God took note of the look
of one's horses, she was fit for the last journey.
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