Kit’s hand went out as if to draw her to him; the space between them was slight. He flushed and quivered to her beauty as to her emotion. Then there arose before him a small figure, simply clad; a low, broad brow and beneath it steady eyes of brown, like a fire on a home hearth, and sweet, firm lips moved to let a soft alto voice say in memory to him again: “It would be a pity for you to fail with your life, because you can use it well if you follow your instincts. And what is counted gain is often tragic failure.” Kit straightened himself in his saddle. “You are mighty kind, Helen,” he said. “I don’t mistake myself; you see I have my own measure fairly accurately. Miss Dallas was saying the other day what came to almost the same thing that you’ve just said, only she didn’t get it from the same angle. I’ll try to play up when the time comes.” Helen’s horse leaped at the sudden pull which she gave the curb and the blow that she dealt him. The horse dashed away and Kit rapidly followed. “Say, Helen, don’t give Jack-of-Spades surprise parties; he’s one of the sensible sort that doesn’t care for them, and he’s capable of giving a return surprise party,” Kit warned her, regaining his place at her bridle. “I can conquer any fool brute I ever attempted!” said Helen, her colour high, her eyes flashing. Then she conquered herself. “Did I scare you, good old Kit? You were the one I meant to surprise. Isn’t your aunt a dear to get me a horse like this? Isn’t she an old darling, anyway? She’s truly fond of me, I’m gratefully sure of that. It’s a big thing to win the love of a lonely old woman. She loves me next to you, Kit, and I’m not unappreciative. How these horses keep pace! What a pleasant thing it is to ride at the same gait, in unison of hoofbeats! That’s a sermon in brief, though unintentional, and it’s for you to draw the moral. So this is Daphne Woods! It’s the loveliest spot I ever saw. I’m glad that you are showing me this shadowy, green, mystic loveliness for the first time. We have many memories in common, my dear old pal. Daphne Woods is a dream. Don’t let me waken, Kit!” CHAPTER IX _Soundings_ Helen and Kit rode on through the verdant shade of Daphne Woods with few words spoken between them. At times the brown accumulations of the leaves of past springs deadened the sound of the horses’ feet, but oftener their rhythm was distinctly beaten out on the perfectly kept road. “Riding at the same gait, in unison of hoofbeats.” Kit found himself dwelling on the words as if they were an oracle’s prophecy and its fulfilment. Was it possible that Helen meant what she surely conveyed? Was it possible that a nice girl would intentionally convey it?