"I saw that bad as you are, I could trust you," she said, laughing; "a fact that I was glad to learn since you are so bent on forcing your society upon us all for a time." "Thank Heaven!" I exclaimed, "I thought yesterday that I was a bankrupt, but I must have a little of the man left in me to have passed this ordeal. Had I seen distrust in your eyes and consequent reserve in your manner, I should have been sorely wounded." "No," she replied, shaking her head, "when a man's character is such as to excite distrust, he could not be so sorely wounded as you suggest." "I'm not sure of that," I said. "I think a man may know himself to be weak and wicked, and yet suffer greatly from such consciousness." "Why should he weakly suffer? Why not simply do right? I can endure a certain amount of honest wickedness, but there is a phase of moral weakness that I detest," and for a moment her face wore an aspect that would have made any one wronging her tremble, for it was pure, strong, and almost severe. "I do believe," I said, "that men are more merciful to the foibles of humanity than women." "You are more tolerant, perhaps. Ah! there's Dapple," and she ran to meet the spirited horse that was coming from the farmyard. Reuben, driving, sat confidently in his light open wagon, and his face indicated that he and the beautiful animal he could scarcely restrain shared equally in their enjoyment of young, healthful life. I was alarmed to see Miss Warren run forward, since at the moment Dapple was pawing the air. A second later she was patting his arched neck and rubbing her cheek against his nose. He looked as if he liked it. Well he might. "Oh, Reuben," she cried, "I envy you. I haven't seen a horse in town that could compare with Dapple." The young fellow was fairly radiant as he drove away. She looked after him wistfully, and drew a long sigh. "Ah!" she said, "they do me good after my city life. There's life for you, Mr. Morton--full, overflowing, innocent life--in the boy and in the horse. Existence, motion, is to them happiness. It seems a pity that both must grow old and weary! My hand fairly tingles yet from my touch of Dapple's neck, he was so alive with spirit. What is it that animates that great mass of flesh and blood, bone and sinew, making him so strong, yet so gentle. At a blow he would have dashed everything to pieces, but he is as sensitive to kindness as I am. I sometimes half think that Dapple has as good a right to a soul as I have. Perhaps you are inclined toward Turkish philosophy, and think so too." "I should be well content to go to the same heaven that receives you and Dapple. You are very fearless, Miss Warren, thus to approach a rearing horse."