There was a waggon-gate at one side of the front fence which had never been used except by the man 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 parlour 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.
When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket—and what a pleasure it was to water one's
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