The Squire's Daughter

The voice was soft and musical, but the tone was imperative."I say, young man, open that gate."The young man addressed turned slowly from the stile on which he had been leaning, and regarded the speaker attentively. She was seated on a high-stepping horse with that easy grace born of long familiarity with the saddle, and yet she seemed a mere girl, with soft round cheeks and laughing blue eyes."Come, wake up," she said, in tones more imperious than before, "and open the gate at...
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The voice was soft and musical, but the tone was imperative."I say, young man, open that gate."The young man addressed turned slowly from the stile on which he had been leaning, and regarded the speaker attentively. She was seated on a high-stepping horse with that easy grace born of long familiarity with the saddle, and yet she seemed a mere girl, with soft round cheeks and laughing blue eyes."Come, wake up," she said, in tones more imperious than before, "and open the gate at once."He resented the tone, though he was charmed with the picture, and instead of going toward the gate to do her bidding he turned and began to climb slowly over the stile.She trotted her horse up to him in a moment, her eyes flashing, her cheeks aflame. She had been so used to command and to prompt obedience that this insubordination on the part of a country yokel seemed nothing less than an insult."You dare disobey me?" she said, her voice thrilling with anger."Of course I dare," he answered, without turning his head. "I am not your servant."The reply seemed to strike her dumb for a moment, and she reined back her horse several paces.He turned again to look at her, then deliberately seated himself on one of the posts of the stile.