The Finding of Jasper Holt by Grace Livingston Hill

When Jean reached the Harrington home she found a group of girls on the piazza, waiting for her, who chattered and laughed and took absolute possession of her. They were planning an all-day trip on horseback with lunches and all sorts of interesting things by the way, and Jean must help them. Then they gave her no chance to speak, but told her all in chorus, until she could scarcely make out what it was about. She smiled and agreed, but half the time she did not know what they were saying, for something still and beautiful within her soul was claiming her attention, something that seemed too high and holy to be affected by any of these foolish little things wherewith the others wanted to while away the time -- the brief, dear time left her to be in _his_ neighborhood! Yet she smiled and agreed, and they all thought her charming, and went on making their plans.

They made out their list of men who were to be invited. She heard the names read, and took no account of whom they had selected for her escort. What did it matter? _His_ name was not among them! She heard their talk about their horses.

"Robin Hood has gone lame," declared one maiden pettishly, "isn't that a shame? Father says it's my fault, but I know better. He's going to get me a new horse pretty soon when he can find one to suit him. I know just the one I want, coal-black and shines like satin. He can go like the wind and take a river as if he had wings. I'm dead in love with him. I'm just dying to ride him, but his owner won't sell him. Isn't that mean? He belongs to Jasper Holt. Father has offered him a fabulous price, but he won't sell him at any price, he says. I think he's perfectly horrid. Of course he only does it just to be disagreeable because he thinks I want him. That man makes me tired!"

There was a soft color on Jean's cheeks and she looked up as if a challenge to defend her friend had been flung to her.

"Perhaps he's fond of the horse," she said gently, as she glanced around on all those scornful young faces.

"He, fond of anything! Oh my dear! You don't know him! " declared one of the girls.

"He never was fond of anything in his life," laughed another. "Why, he's the cruellest thing! You don't know, Jean."

"Men grow very fond of horses," said Jean, holding her head high and the roses in her cheeks deepening, "and their horses grow fond of them. A horse loves one who is kind to him."

She was remembering the proud arch of Jasper Holt's black as he rode beside her in the woods but a short half hour before.

Her words were met by a shout of merriment, and a boisterous young voice with a sneer in it pierced above the laughter:

"Kind to them! Jasper Holt was never kind to anything in his life! My dear, you simply don't know him!"

"But I _do_ know him! " said Jean now, rising from her rocker and standing slim and straight against the vine-covered pillar of the porch. "I know him better than you all, and I know he is kind. He was kind and splendid to me! No man could have done more! I am sorry you feel that way about him. It isn't right! He is my friend!"

She had spoken! She had always meant to, ever since she came; but there had been little opportunity without being deliberately disagreeable and dragging the subject in. Perhaps Eleanor had warned her callers not to mention Jasper Holt, for they usually seemed to avoid speaking of him; but she had always felt the time would come when she could speak and let them all know what she thought about him, and now it had come and she had spoken. Her heart beat wildly, her cheeks were rosy red, and her eyes shining starrily, but she stood unabashed and faced them all.

A sudden silence fell upon the little group and they exchanged furtive glances of understanding as if a mutual agreement sealed their lips to things that they might say if she were not with them.

"Oh, well, of course you're grateful," said one girl in a conciliatory tone. "One couldn't help being grateful under such circumstances; but he would have been a brute not to have pulled you out of the water and showed you the way to Hawk Valley."

"Perhaps he wants his black to ride in the tournament," said another girl mischievously, hoping to lift the cloud that had fallen over them all. "He has audacity enough for anything, though he has never seemed to care for anything going on in the town. Of course he has never been encouraged to have."

"He wouldn't dare! " said another with flashing eyes.

"Why wouldn't he dare? " asked Jean, turning steady eyes to the haughty young speaker.

"Because it wouldn't be tolerated," declared the girl still haughtily.

"I have seen him dare greater things than that," said Jean with a far-away look in her eyes and something like a smile on her lips.