THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
pony crowded closer to the big, white faced sorrel, and the girl, stirred by the weird loveliness of the scene, broke the silence with an exclamation, "O Matt! Ain't it fine? Look there!" She pointed to the view ahead. "Makes me feel like I could keep on a goin', and goin', and never stop."
The man, too, felt the witchery of the night. The horses were crowding more closely together now, and, leaning forward, the girl looked up into his face; "What's the matter, Matt? Why don't you talk to me? You know it ain't true what them folks said back there."
The sorrel was jerked farther away. "It's true enough, so far as it touches me," returned the man shortly. "When are you goin' to the city?"
"I don't know," she replied. "Let's don't talk about that to-night. I don't want even to think about it, not to-night. You—you don't believe what they was a sayin', Matt; you know you don't. You mustn't ever believe such as that. I—I never could get along without you and Aunt Mollie and Uncle Matt, nohow." The brown pony was again crowding closer to his mate. The girl laid a hand on her companion's arm. "Say you don't blame me for what they said, Matt. You know I wouldn't do no such a thing even if I could. There mustn't anything ever come between you and me; never—never. I—I want us always to be like we are now. You've been so good to me ever
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