Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/443

 importance, and probably would not in the least interest you. I am sorry I came in."

"Not at all," he replied, in the same matter-of-course voice. "When I am at leisure I am always glad of your society. Just now, I fear, I cannot take advantage of it. I must be absent all the morning, but St. Croix is, doubtless, at home, and will keep you company."

Guarded as was his tone, either her woman's ear detected a false note in the mention of Florian's name, whom he seldom spoke of so ceremoniously, or her woman's intuition taught her to suspect the true grievance. At any rate, she persuaded herself she ought to be more displeased than she really felt. It would have been only right to show it. Now was the time to get upon her high horse, and she would have mounted at once, but that her blushes would not be kept down. It was too provoking! What must her husband think of them? She could have burst out crying, but that would be infinitely worse. She turned away, therefore, and assuming all the dignity she could muster, walked off to her own apartment without another word.

Sir George did not follow. Had he done so, it might have altered his whole morning's employment, to see his young wife fling herself down on her knees at the bedside, and weep as if her heart would break.

No, he flung himself into the saddle, and in five minutes was alone with Emerald on the moor.

I wonder what the good horse thought of his rider, when he felt his head steadied by the strong familiar hand, the well-known limbs grasping his sides with pliant energy, the caressing voice whispering its cheering words of caution and encouragement? Did he know that his master urged him to his speed because the care that is proverbially said to sit behind the horseman cannot keep her seat on a fine goer, in good condition, when fairly in his swing? Did he know that while that smooth, powerful stride, regular and untiring as machinery, swept furlong by furlong over the elastic surface of the moor, she must be left panting behind, to come up indeed at the first check, rancorous and vindictive as ever, but still beaten by a horse's length at least so long as the excitement of the gallop lasted and the extreme pace could hold?