Gothic fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Glorious Madge! I had never expected to mount her again. I had never
expected to burden her with such a heavy heart. What a contrast to the
daring young rider of a few short months ago. Madge Wildfire was as
eager and untamed as then, but not so her mistress. Her mistress, the
fire quenched in her eye, the pride of her free step humbled, the
courage of her spirit broken, trembled at the very beauty of the animal
she rode.
"You are not fit for this," said Mr. Rutledge, in a low tone, as he put
me in the saddle. "You had better give it up. It is not too late; let
one of the others take your place."
"No, thank you. I shall be better for the ride."
"Captain McGuffy, you must remember your pupil is rather inexperienced,"
he said, uneasily, as the captain mounted and rode up beside me. "Madge
has not been used for some time, and she is feeling very fine."
"No danger," said the captain, as, followed by Phil, we trotted rapidly
down the avenue. There must have been a touch of human intelligence and
sympathy in Madge; she was burning to be off on a mad race across the
country; she was fairly throbbing with impatience; my weak grasp upon
her bridle she could have thrown off with one toss of her arched neck;
but, quivering with life and fire as she was, she restrained her pace to
suit my fears, and minded my slightest touch, with more than human
gentleness. By degrees, I came to realize this, and reassured and
emboldened, I sat more firmly and rode less timidly. The cool air of the
morning braced and strengthened my nerves; I could hardly have believed
that I could have felt so differently in so short a time, and every foot
of ground we put between us and Rutledge, seemed to distance just so
far my anxiety and wretchedness. My companions amused themselves, and
thought they were amusing me, by reminiscences of military adventures,
frontier experiences, and camp life; which served to keep them occupied,
and give me time to rest and recover myself. When we rode into the lodge
gate at Windy Hill, I was indeed so much better for my ride, that even
Phil noticed the change in my expression.
"You ought to have ridden every day while we have been here. You must
ride to-morrow by all means."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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