They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia was understanding, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little friend; scullery-maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel with the way of the world. But she decided to say nothing—the mark still glowed. It was to glow more before that day was out.
They came near to the gates. Julia felt a sudden pressure on her arm.
"Look!" whispered Sophy, her eyes lighting up again in interest.
A young man rode up the approach to the Hall lodge. His mare was a beauty; he sat her well. He was perfectly dressed for the exercise. His features were clear-cut and handsome. There was as fine an air of breeding about him as about the splendid Newfoundland dog which ran behind him.
Julia looked as she was bidden. "He's handsome," she said. "Why—" she laughed low—"I believe I know who it is—I think I've seen him somewhere."
"Have you?" Sophy's question was breathless.
"Yes, I know! When we were at York! He was one of the officers there; he was in a box. Sophy, it's the Earl of Dunstanbury!"
Sophy did not speak. She looked. The young man—he could be hardly more than twenty—came on. Sophy suddenly hid behind her friend ("To save my pride, not her own," generous Julia explains—Sophy herself advances no such excuse), but she could see. She saw the rider's eye rest on Julia; did it rest in recognition? It almost seemed so; yet there was doubt. Julia blushed, but she forbore from smiling or from seeking to rouse his memory. Yet she was proud if he remembered her face from across the footlights. The young man, too—being but a young man—blushed a little as he gave the pretty girl by the gate such a glance as discreetly told her that he was of the same mind as herself about her looks. These silent interchanges of opinion on such matters are pleasant diversions as one plods the highway.
He was gone. Julia sighed in satisfied vanity. Sophy awoke to stern realities.
"Gracious!" she cried. "He must have come to lunch! They'll want a salad! You'll be here to-morrow—do!" And she was off, up the drive, and round to her own regions at the back of the house.