He was tired and perplexed, and it was with unaffected pleasure that he
rode out of an obscure hill-path into a bit of open wood overhanging a
curious defile and came upon Shirley Claiborne.
The soil was soft and his horse carried him quite near before she heard
him. A broad sheet of water flashed down the farther side of the narrow
pass, sending up a pretty spurt of spray wherever it struck the jutting
rock. As Shirley turned toward him he urged his horse over the springy
turf.
"A pity to disturb the picture, Miss Claiborne! A thousand pardons! But I
really wished to see whether the figure could come out of the canvas. Now
that I have dared to make the test, pray do not send me away."
Her horse turned restlessly and brought her face to face with Chauvenet.
"Steady, Fanny! Don't come near her, please--" this last to Chauvenet,
who had leaped down and put out his hand to her horse's bridle. She had
the true horsewoman's pride in caring for herself and her eyes flashed
angrily for a moment at Chauvenet's proffered aid. A man might open a
door for her or pick up her handkerchief, but to touch her horse was an
altogether different business.
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