When I had got used to this, my uncle made me stand on the horse's broad
back, holding on by his shoulders; and it was wonderful how soon, and how
unconsciously, I accommodated myself to every motion of the strength that
bore me, learning to keep my place by pure balance like a rope-dancer. I
had soon quite forgotten to hold by my uncle, and without the least
support rode as comfortably, and with as much confidence, as any rider in
a circus, though with a far less easy pace under me. When my uncle found
me capable of this, he was much pleased, though a little nervous at
times.

Able now to ride his big horse any way, he brought me one afternoon the
loveliest of Shetland ponies, not very small. With the ordinary human
distrust in good, I could hardly believe she was meant for me. She was a
dappled gray--like the twilight of a morning after rain, my uncle said.
He called her Zoe, which means Life. His own horse he called Thanatos,
which means Death. Such as understood it, thought it a terrible name to
give a horse. For most people are so afraid of Death that they regard his
very name with awe.

My uncle had a riding-habit made for me, and after a week found I could
give him no more trouble with my horsewomanship. At once I was at home on
my new friend's back, with vistas of delight innumerable opening around
me, and from that day my uncle seldom rode without me. When he went
wandering, it was almost always on foot, and then, as before, he was
always alone. The idea of offering to accompany him on such an occasion,
had never occurred to me.

But one stormy autumn afternoon--most of my memories seem of the
autumn--my uncle looked worse than usual when he went out, and I felt, I
think for the first time, a vague uneasiness about him. Perhaps I had