"Who is that riding up the hill?" she said, controlling her voice
admirably. "It is Miss Heron, is it not?"
"Yes, it is," he said, as impassively as he could.
Her lips curled scornfully at his assumption of indifference. "I have
seen her and met her," she said, "but I have not been introduced to
her. Let us overtake her, and you can introduce me. I should like to
know her."
He looked straight before him, his face grave and set.
"Is it worth while?" he said in a low voice. "Some other time--"
"Why not now?" she asked. "We can catch her quite easily."
The moment had come for him to tell her.
"Not now," he said, huskily. "I have something to tell you, Maude;
something you ought to know before--before you make Miss Heron's
acquaintance."
She turned to him with a low laugh.
"Do you think I don't know?" she said, between her teeth. "I have know
all along! I read the letter you wrote to her--I got it--stole it, if
you like--from Pottinger. I have known all along--do you not think I
have been very patient, very discreet? Even now I bear no malice. I can
forget the past, forget and forgive. Why should I not, seeing that I am
assured of your love and good faith? You will see how completely I
forget, how little importance I attach to your fancy for the girl; a
fancy which I am sure you have quite outgrown. Oh, I can trust you! We
will join Miss Heron by all means."
His face was dark and heavy.
"Do not, Maude, until you've heard all," he began, but with a scornful
laugh that yet had something doubting and desperate in it, she sent
Adonis on. He sprang forward nervously and shivering under a stroke
from her whip, and swiftly lessened the distance between him and
Rupert, who heard his approach before Ida did, and who neighed a
welcome. Ida turned and saw who was following her, saw Stafford just
behind, and gathering her reins together she rode Rupert quickly to the
top of the hill.
"Miss Heron!" cried Maude, in a voice of covert insolence, but almost
open triumph. "Miss Heron, stop, please!"
Ida did stop for a moment, then, feeling that it was impossible for her
to meet them, that day, at any rate, she let Rupert go again. By this
time, Stafford had almost gained Maude's side. His face was dark with
anger, his teeth clenched tightly. He knew that Maude intended to
flaunt her possession of him before Ida. In a low but perfectly
distinct voice, he said: "Stop, Maude! Do not follow her." She looked over her shoulder at him,
her face flushed, her eyes flashing.