New England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- New England -- Fiction
"I'll try and make a good job of it," said Diana. So she took her
sun-bonnet and went out to the barn. The old horse was not far off, for
the "lot" in this case meant simply the small field in which the barn
and the barnyard were enclosed; but being a wary old animal, with a
good deal of experience of life, he had come to know that a halter and
a pan of corn generally meant hard work near at hand, and was won't to
be shy of such allurements. Diana could sometimes do better than
anybody else with old Prince; they were on good terms; and Prince had
sense enough to take notice that she never followed the plough, and was
therefore a safer venture than his other flatterers. With the corn and
the halter Diana now sought the corner where Prince was standing
whisking his tail in the shade of a tree. But it was a warm morning;
and seeing her approach, Prince quietly walked off into the sun on the
other side of the tree, and went on to another shady resting-place some
distance away. Diana followed, speaking to him; but Prince repeated his
ungallant manoeuvre; and from tree to tree across the sunny field Diana
trudged after him, until she was hot and tired. Perhaps Prince's
philosophy came in play at last, warning him that this game could not
go on for ever, and would certainly end in his discomfiture some time;
for, with no apparent reason for his change of tactics, he stood still
at length under the tree farthest from the barn, and suffered himself
to be made captive. Diana got the halter on, and, flushed and excited
with the chase, led him back over the lot and out to the road, where
Josiah had very culpably left the little waggon standing in the shade
of the elm, close by the lean-to gate. Just as she got there, Diana saw
a stranger who had his hand on the gate, but who left it now and came
forward to speak to her.
Diana stood by the thills of the waggon, horse in hand, but, to tell
the truth, forgetting both. The stranger was unlike anything often seen
in Pleasant Valley. He wore the dark-blue uniform of an army officer;
there was a stripe of gold down the seam of his pantaloons and a gold
bar across his shoulders, and his cap was a soldier's cap. But it was
not on his head just now; it had come off since he quitted the gate;
and the step with which he drew near was the very contrast to Joe
Bartlett's lounging pace; this was measured, clean, compact, and firm,
withal as light and even as that of an antelope. His hair showed the
regulation cut; and Diana saw with the same glance a pair of light,
brilliant, hazel eyes and a finely trimmed mustache. _She_ stood
flushed and still, halter in hand, with her sun-bonnet pushed a little
back for air. The stranger smiled just a little.
"May I ask how far I am from a place called Elmfield?"
"It is"--Diana's thoughts wandered,--"It is five miles."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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