This expedition seemed to Flor such a proud and gratifying confidence,
that in her pleasure she forgot to think; she only danced round about
her mistress, with a return of her old exuberance, till the more quiet
path of the latter resembled a straight line surrounded by an arabesque
of fantastic flourishes. But, in fact, the young patrician, unaccustomed
to exertion, was well wearied before they reached the river-bank. They
had yet the long border of the swamp to skirt, and there towered Longfer
Hill. Why could they not go across, she wondered. They would sink, Flor
answered her; and then the moccasins! But there were all those green
hummocks,--skipping from one to another would be mere play,--and there
were no moccasins for miles. And before Flor could gainsay her, she had
sprung on, keeping steadily ahead, in a determination to have her own
way; and with no other course left her, Flor followed, though, at every
spring, alighting on the hummocks that Miss Emma had trodden, the water
splashed up about her bare ankles, and her heart shook within her at the
thought of fierce runaways haunting these inaccessible hollows, and the
myths of the deeper district.
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