'I suppose,' said Stephen, 'that a man who can neither sit in a
saddle himself nor help another person into one seems a useless
incumbrance; but, Miss Swancourt, I'll learn to do it all for your
sake; I will, indeed.'
'What is so unusual in you,' she said, in a didactic tone
justifiable in a horsewoman's address to a benighted walker, 'is
that your knowledge of certain things should be combined with your
ignorance of certain other things.'
Stephen lifted his eyes earnestly to hers.
'You know,' he said, 'it is simply because there are so many other
things to be learnt in this wide world that I didn't trouble about
that particular bit of knowledge. I thought it would be useless
to me; but I don't think so now. I will learn riding, and all
connected with it, because then you would like me better. Do you
like me much less for this?'
She looked sideways at him with critical meditation tenderly
rendered.
'Do I seem like LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI?' she began suddenly,
without replying to his question. 'Fancy yourself saying, Mr.
Smith:
"I sat her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A fairy's song,
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew; "
and that's all she did.'
'No, no,' said the young man stilly, and with a rising colour.
'"And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88