In the early days of their marriage the joy of a canter side by side had merged them in a community of sensation beyond need of speech; but now that the physical spell had passed they felt the burden of a silence that neither knew how to break.
Once only, a moment’s friction galvanized these lifeless rides. It was one morning when Bessy’s wild mare Impulse, under-exercised and over-fed, suddenly broke from her control, and would have unseated her but for Amherst’s grasp on the bridle.
“The horse is not fit for you to ride,” he exclaimed, as the hot creature, with shudders of defiance rippling her flanks, lapsed into sullen subjection.
“It’s only because I don’t ride her enough,” Bessy panted. “That new groom is ruining her mouth.”
“You must not ride her alone, then.”
“I shall not let that man ride her.”
“I say you must not ride her alone.”
“It’s ridiculous to have a groom at one’s heels!”
“Nevertheless you must, if you ride Impulse.”
Their eyes met, and she quivered and yielded like the horse. “Oh, if you say so—” She always hugged his brief flashes of authority.
“I do say so. You promise me?”
“If you like”
Amherst had made an attempt to occupy himself with
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