exquisite head, which she carried so proudly--how would she look
and what kind of figure would she cut among the shaggy, stunted,

sedate-looking nags of the Sognefiord district? But the captain,
though what he said was irrefutable, had to suspend all argument

when he saw how utterly wretched Erik became at the mere thought
of losing Lady Clare. So he took his chances; and, after having

ordered blankets of three different thicknesses for three
different kinds of weather, shipped the mare with the rest of his

family for his new northern home.
As the weather proved unusually mild during the northward voyage

Lady Clare arrived in Sogn without accident or adventure. And
never in all her life had she looked more beautiful than she did

when she came off the steamer, and half the population of the
valley turned out to see her. It is no use denying that she was

as vain as any other professional beauty, and the way she danced
and pirouetted on the gangplank, when Erik led her on to the

pier, filled the rustics with amazement. They had come to look
at the new captain and his family; but when Lady Clare appeared

she eclipsed the rest of the company so completely that no one
had eyes for anybody but her. As the sun was shining and the

wind was mild, Erik had taken off her stripedovercoat (which
covered her from nose to tail), for he felt in every fibre of his

body the sensation she was making, and blushed with pleasure as
if the admiring exclamations had been intended for himself.

"Look at that horse," cried young and old, with eyes as big as
saucers, pointing with their fingers at Lady Clare.

"Handsome carcass that mare has," remarked a stoutish man, who
knew what he was talking about; "and head and legs to match."

"She beats your Valders-Roan all hollow, John Garvestad," said a
young tease who stood next to him in the crowd.

"My Valders-Roan has never seen his match yet, and never will,
according to my reckoning," answered John Garvestad.

"Ho! ho!" shouted the young fellow, with a mocking laugh; "that
black mare is a hand taller at the very least, and I bet you

she's a high-flyer. She has got the prettiest legs I ever
clapped eyes on."

"They'd snap like clay pipes in the mountains," replied
Garvestad, contemptuously.

Erik, as he blushingly ascended the slope to his new home,
leading Lady Clare by a halter, had no suspicion of the

sentiments which she had aroused in John Garvestad's breast. He
was only blissfully conscious of the admiration she had excited;

and he promised himself a good deal of fun in future in showing
off his horsemanship. He took Lady Clare to the stable, where a

new box-stall had been made for her, examined the premises
carefully and nailed a board over a crevice in the wall where he

suspected a draught. He instructed Anders, the groom, with
emphatic and anxious repetitions regarding her care, showed him

how to make Lady Clare's bed, how to comb her mane, how to brush
her (for she refused to endure currying), how to blanket her, and

how to read the thermometer which he nailed to one of the posts
of the stall. The latter proved to be a more difficult task than

he had anticipated; and the worst of it was that he was not sure
that Anders knew any more on the subject of his instruction at

the end of the lesson than he had at the beginning. To make sure
that he had understood him he asked him to enter the stall and

begin the process of grooming. But no sooner had the unhappy
fellow put his nose inside the door than Lady Clare laid back her

ears in a very ugly fashion, and with a vicious whisk of her tail
waltzed around and planted two hoof-marks in the door, just where

the groom's nose had that very instant vanished. A second and a
third trial had similar results; and as the box-stall was new and

of hard wood, Erik had no wish to see it further damaged.
"I won't have nothin' to do with that hoss, that's as certain as

my name is Anders," the groom declared; and Erik, knowing that
persuasion would be useless, had henceforth to be his own groom.

The fact was he could not help sympathizing with that
fastidiousness of Lady Clare which made her object to be handled

by coarse fingers and roughly curried, combed, and washed like a
common plebeian nag. One does not commence life associating with

a princess for nothing. Lady Clare, feeling in every nerve her
high descent and breeding, had perhaps a sense of having come

down in the world, and, like many another irrational creature of
her sex, she kicked madly against fate and exhibited the

unloveliest side of her character. But with all her skittishness
and caprice she was steadfast in one thing, and that was her love

for Erik. As the days went by in country monotony, he began to
feel it as a privilege rather than a burden to have the exclusive

care of her. The low, friendly neighing with which she always
greeted him, as soon as he opened the stable-door, was as

intelligible and dear to him as the warm welcome of a friend.
And when with dainty alertness she lifted her small, beautiful

head, over which the fine net-work of veins meandered, above the
top of the stall, and rubbed her nose caressingly against his

cheek, before beginning to snuff at his various pockets for the
accustomed lump of sugar, he felt a glow of affection spread from

his heart and pervade his whole being. Yes, he loved this
beautiful animal with a devotion which, a year ago, he would

scarcely have thought it possible to bestow upon a horse. No one
could have persuaded him that Lady Clare had not a soul which

(whether it was immortal or not) was, at all events, as distinct
and clearly defined as that of any person with whom he was

acquainted. She was to him a personality--a dear, charming
friend, with certain defects of character (as who has not?) which

were, however, more than compensated for by her devotion to him.
She was fastidious, quick-tempered, utterly unreasonable where

her feelings were involved; full of aristocraticprejudice, which
only her sex could excuse; and whimsical, proud, and capricious.

It was absurd, of course, to contend that these qualities were in
themselves admirable; but, on the other hand, few of us would not

consent to overlook them in a friend who loved us as well as Lady
Clare loved Erik.

The fame of Lady Clare spread through the parish like fire in
withered grass. People came from afar to look at her, and

departed full of wonder at her beauty. When the captain and his
son rode together to church on Sunday morning, men, women, and

children stood in rows at the roadside staring at the wonderful
mare as if she had been a dromedary or a rhinoceros. And when

she was tied in the clergyman's stable a large number of the men
ignored the admonition of the church bells and missed the sermon,

being unable to tear themselves away from Lady Clare's charms.
But woe to him who attempted to take liberties with her; there

were two or three horsy young men who had narrow escapes from
bearing the imprint of her iron shoes for the rest of their days.

That taught the others a lesson, and now Lady Clare suffered from
no annoying familiarities, but was admired at a respectful

distance, until the pastor, vexed at her rivalry with his sermon,
issued orders to have the stable-door locked during service.

There was one person besides the pastor who was ill pleased at
the reputation Lady Clare was making. That was John Garvestad,

the owner of Valders-Roan. John was the richest man in the
parish, and always made a point of keeping fine horses.

Valders-Roan, a heavily built, powerful horse, with a tremendous
neck and chest and long tassels on his fetlocks, but rather squat

in the legs, had hitherto held undisputed rank as the finest
horse in all Sogn. By the side of Lady Clare he looked as a

stout, good-lookingpeasant lad with coltish manners might have
looked by the side of the daughter of a hundred earls.

But John Garvestad, who was naturally prejudiced in favor of his
own horse, could scarcely be blamed for failing to recognize her

superiority. He knew that formerly, on Sundays, the men were
wont to gather with admiring comment about Valders-Roan; while

now they stood craning their necks, peering through the windows
of the parson's stable, in order to catch a glimpse of Lady