Striding into the
hall, where the party was discussing plans for the day, he planted
himself before Mary, and invited her to drive. The others, looking out of
the window, exclaimed with pleasure at the pretty little sleigh, and Mary
gladly threw on her cap and coat. Gunther tucked her in and started
without a word. They were a mile from the house before he broke silence.
"This sleigh comes from my country, Mrs. Byrd; I wish I could drive you
there in it."
He did not speak again, and Mary was glad to enjoy the exhilarating air
in silence. By several roads they had gradually climbed a hillside. Now
from below they could see the house at some distance to their right, and
another road running in one long slope almost straight to it from where
they sat. Gunther suddenly stood up in the sleigh, braced his feet, and
wrapped a rein round each arm.
"Now we will drive," said he. They started, they gathered speed, they
flew, the horse threw himself into a stretching gallop, the sleigh
rocked, it leapt like a dashing wave. Gunther half crouched, swaying with
it. The horse raced, his flanks stretched to the snow. Mary clung to her
seat breathless and tense with excitement--she looked up at the driver.
His blue eyes blazed, his lips smiled above a tight-set jaw, he looked
down, and meeting her eyes laughed triumphantly.
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