a hearing. Somehow I must make it clear, and you must try——”
“My name it iss Miss Macleod, and I would think it clear enough already at all events. I will be thanking you to let me pass, sir.”
Her words bit, not less the scorch of her eyes. My heart was like running water.
“And is this an end to all— Will you let so small a thing put a period to our good comradeship?” I cried.
“Since you mention it I would never deny that I am under obligations to you, sir, which my brother will be blithe to repay——”
“By Heaven, I never mentioned obligations; I never thought of them. Is there no friendship in your heart for me?”
“Your regard iss a thing I have valued, but”—there was a little break in the voice which she rode over roughshod—“I can very well be getting along without the friendships of that girl’s lover.”
She snatched open the gate and flung past me to the house, this superb young creature, tall, slim, supple, a very Diana in her rage, a woman too if one might judge by the breasts billowing with rising sobs. More slow I followed, quite dashed to earth. All that I had gained by months of service in one moment had been lost. She would think me another of the Volney stamp, and her liking for me would turn to hate as with him.
A low voice from the arbour called “Kenn!” But I had had enough of gallivanting for one night and I held my way sullenly to the house. Swift feet pattered down the path after me, and presently a little hand fell on my arm. I turned, sulky as a baited bear.
“I am so sorry, Kenn,” said Mistress Antoinette demurely.
My sardonic laughter echoed cheerlessly. “That there is no more mischief to your hand. Oh never fear! You’ll find some other poor breeched gull shortly.”
The brown dovelike eyes of the little rip reproached me.
“’Twill all come right, Kenn. She’ll never think the worse of you for this.”
“I’ll be no more to her than a glove outworn. I have lost the only woman I could ever love, and through my own folly, too.”
“Alackaday, Kenn! Y’ ’ave much to learn about women yet. She will think the more of you for it when her anger is past.”
“Not she. One of your fashionables might, but not Aileen.”
“Pooh! I think better of her than you. She’s not all milk and water. There’s red blood in her veins, man. Spunk up and brazen it out. Cock your chin and whistle it off bravely. Faith, I know better men than you who would not look so doleful over one of ’Toinette Westerleigh’s kisses. If I were a man I would never kiss and be sorry for all the maids in Christendom.”
The saucy piquant tilt to her chin was a sight for the gods to admire.
“You forget I love her.”
“Oh, you play on one string. She’s not the only maid i’ the world,” pouted the London beauty.
“She’s the only one for me,” I said stubbornly, and then added dejectedly, “and she’s not for me neither.”
The little rogue began to laugh. “I give you up, Kenn. Y’are as moonstruck a lover as ever I saw. Here’s for a word of comfort, which you don’t deserve at all. For a week she will be a thunder-cloud, then the sun will beam more brightly than ever. But don’t you be too submissive. La! Women cannot endure a wheedling lover.”
After that bit of advice my sage little monitor fell sober and explained to me her reason for sending me the note. It appeared that Sir Robert Volney was due to meet the party at the inn that very evening, and Miss Westerleigh was of opinion that I and my charge would do well to take the road at once. I was of that mind myself. I lost no time in reaching the house and ordering a relay of horses for our immediate travel. Then I took the stairs three at a time and came knocking at Aileen’s door.
“Who iss there?” asked a small voice, full of tears and muffled in a pillow.
Her distress went to my heart, none the less because I who had been the cause of it could not heal it.
“Tis I—Kenneth Montagu. Open the door, please.”
There was a moment’s silence, then—
“I am not wishing to see Mr. Montagu to-night.”
“Not for the world would I trouble you, Miss Macleod, but there is a matter I have to disclose that touches us nearly.”
“I think you will not have heard aright. I am desiring to be alone, sir,” she answered, the frost in her voice.
It may be guessed that this dismissal chafed me. My eagerness was daunted, but yet I would not be fubbed off.
“Miss Macleod, you may punish me as much as you like some other time,” I cried desperately, “but ’fore God! if you do not open the door you will regret it till the last day of your life.”
“Are you threatening me, sir?” she asks, mighty haughty.
“Threatening—no! I do not threaten, but warn. This matter is of life and death, not to be played with;” and to emphasize my words I mentioned the name of Volney.
She came raging to the door and whipped it open very sudden. Her affronted eyes might have belonged to a queen, but the stains on her cheeks betrayed her.
“Well, and what iss this important matter that cannot be waiting? Perhaps Mr. Montagu mistakes this for the room of Mistress Westerleigh.”
I told her that Sir Robert was expected shortly to arrive at the inn, and that we must be on the road at once. She thanked me very primly for the information, but declared she would not trouble me further, that she meant to abide at the inn all night no matter who came; moreover, that when she did leave Hamish Gorm would be sufficient guard. I argued, cajoled, warned, threatened, but she was not to be moved. The girl took a perverse pleasure in thwarting me, and the keener I grew the more dour grew she. We might have disputed the point an hour had I not come to my senses and appeared to give way.
Suspecting that the girl’s fears of Sir Robert would reassert themselves when she was left to herself, I sought her maid and easily induced the girl to propose to her mistress a departure without my knowledge. The suggestion worked like a charm, and fifteen minutes later I had the pleasure of seeing the chaise roll out of the lighted yard into the night. Need it be said that Kenneth Montagu was ahorse and after the coach within a few minutes.
All night I jogged behind them, and in the morning rode up to the inn where they stopped for breakfast. From Mistress Aileen I got the slightest bow in the world as I passed to my solitary breakfast at a neighbouring table. Within the hour they were away again, and I after to cover the rear. Late in the day the near wheeler fell very lame. The rest of the animals were dead beat, and I rode to the nearest hamlet to get another horse. The night was falling foul, very mirk, with a rising wind, and methought the lady’s eyes lightened when she saw me return with help to get them out of their difficulty. She thanked me stiffly with a very straight lip.
“At all events there will be no end to the obligations I am under, Mr. Montagu. They will be piling high as Ben Nevis,” she said, but ’twould
