"Because I have chanced to meet you again."
"It is not strange," she said. "I am nearly always out-of-doors. What a
beautiful horse!"
"Isn't it!" he said, grateful for her praise. "It is a new one--a
present from my father this morning."
"A very valuable present! It ought to be able to jump."
"It is. I put it at a bank just now, and it cleared it like a bird. I
am very glad I have met you. I wanted to tell you something."
She raised her eyes from the horse and waited, with the quietude, the
self-possession and dignity which seemed so strange in one so young,
and which, by its strangeness, fascinated him. "I--spoke to my father
about the land: he is innocent in the matter. It was bought through his
agent, and my father knows nothing of anything--underhand. I can't tell
you how glad I am that this is so. So glad that--I'll make a clean
breast of it--I rode over this morning in the hope of meeting you and
telling you."
She made a little gesture of acceptance.
"I am glad, too. Though it does not matter...."
"Ah, but it does!" he broke in. "I should have been wretched if you had
been right, and my father had been guilty of anything of the kind.
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