There was a wagon-gate at one side of the front fence which had
never been used except by the men who brought coal, and I got out
and opened this, very quietly, so as not to attract the attention
of Euphemia. It was earlier than I usually returned, and she would
not be expecting me. I was then about to lead the horse up a
somewhat grass-grown carriage-way to the front door, but I
reflected that Euphemia might be looking out of some of the windows
and I had better drive up. So I got in and drove very slowly to
the door.
However, she heard the unaccustomed noise of wheels, and looked out
of the parlor window. She did not see me, but immediately came
around to the door. I hurried out of the carriage so quickly that,
not being familiar with the steps, I barely escaped tripping.
When she opened the front door she was surprised to see me standing
by the horse.
"Have you hired a carriage?" she cried. "Are we going to ride?"
"My dear," said I, as I took her by the hand, "we are going to
ride. But I have not hired a carriage. I have bought one. Do you
see this horse? He is ours--our own horse."
If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,--all you
other men in the world,--you would have torn your hair in despair.
Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his
smooth sides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-
formed legs; she stroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was
brimful of joy.
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