The horses, feeling the pull of the powerful
arm, drew together. His knee pressed on the shoulder of her pony, and
feeling him almost against her she bent sideways, flinching from the
contact.
"Why do you shrink from me, Missy?"
"I'm afraid," she whispered.
They paced on for a moment in silence. When he tried to speak his lips
were stiff, and he moistened them to murmur:
"Of what?"
She shrunk still further and raised a hand between them. He snatched
at it, pulling it down, saying hoarsely:
"Of me?"
"Of something--I don't know what. Of something terrible and strange."
She tried to strike at her horse with the reins, but the man's hand
dropped like a hawk on the pommel and drew the tired animal back to the
foot pace.
"If you love me there's no need of fear," he said, then waited, the
sound of her terrified breathing like the beating of waves in his ears,
and murmured lower than before, "And you love me. I know it."
Her face showed in dark profile against the deep sky. He stared at it,
then suddenly set his teeth and gave the pommel a violent jerk that
made the horse stagger and grind against its companion.
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