I
do not know quite how I should conduct. I am unaccustomed to comrades
like you, cousin; and, in the untasted delights of such companionship,
have run wild till my head swims wi' the humming thoughts you stir in
me, and I long for a dark, still room and a bed to lie on, and think of
this day's pleasures."
After a silence, broken only by our horses treading the moist earth: "I
have been starving for this companionship.... I was parched!... Cousin,
have you let me drink too deeply? Have you been too kind? Why am I in
this new terror lest you--lest you tire of me and my silly speech? Oh, I
know my thoughts have been too long pent! I could talk to you forever! I
could ride with you till I died! I am like a caged thing loosed, I tell
you--for I may tell you, may I not, cousin?"
"Tell me all you think, Dorothy."
"I could tell you all--everything! I never had a thought that I do not
desire you to know, ... save one.... And that I do desire to tell
you ... but cannot.... Cousin, why did you name your mare Isene?"
"An Indian girl in Florida bore that name; the Seminoles called her
Issena."
"And so you named your mare from her?"
"Yes."
"Was she your friend--that you named your mare from her?"
"She lived a century ago--a princess. She wedded with a Huguenot."
"Oh," said Dorothy, "I thought she was perhaps your sweetheart.
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