Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/366

 to the distant sail, that seemed plain to every eye on board but hers. At any rate, she appeared to be leagues off in mind, though her dainty feet, with slow, measured steps, were pacing to and fro on the terrace at Hamilton Hill. All at once her colour came, her eyes sparkled, she brightened up like one who wakes from sleep, for her heart still leaped to the trample of boot and jingle of spur, as it had leaped in the days gone by, when a certain Musketeer would visit his guard at unseasonable hours, that he might have an excuse for passing under her window.

She ran across the terrace to meet him, with a little exclamation of delight. "How long you have been, George!" she said, smiling up in his face; "why did you not ride faster? It is so dull here without you."

She had him by the arm, and clasped her pretty white hands across his sleeve, leaning her weight on his wrist. He looked affectionately down in the fair young face, but he had come at a gallop for five or six miles across the moor, as the state of his boots no less than his flushed face indicated, and he did not feel inclined to admit he had been dilatory, so his answer was less that of the lover than the husband.

"Dull, Cerise! I am sorry you find this place so dull, seeing that you and I must spend the greater part of our lives here. I thought you liked England, and a country life!"

Why is a man flattered by those exactions in a mistress that gall him so in a wife? Perhaps it is because a generous nature concedes willingly the favour, but is stern to resist the claim. When his mistress says she cannot do without him, all the protective instincts, so strong in masculine affection rise in her behalf, but the same sentiment expressed by one who assumes a right to his time and attention, rather awakes a sense of apprehension, and a spirit of revolt. Where woman only sees the single instance, man establishes the broad principle. If he yields on this occasion, he fears his time will never again be his own, and such misgivings show no little ignorance of the nature with which he has to deal, a nature to be guided rather than taught, persuaded rather than convinced, sometimes advised, but never confuted, and on