But strangely enough she was not afraid. The child whose life boundary did not extend far beyond the walls of the parental home looked out on a limitless horizon of men's passions and men's sins, but even beyond that horizon the personality of the man to whom she had given her innocent love stood out clear and pure: the master to obey, the hero to worship. That she had roused a great love in him, she could not fail to see; of that she was proud, for her feminine instinct whispered that the greatness of his love transcended any sin which he ever might commit.
How it all happened she never afterwards could say; but it was all so different to what had been prearranged by mother and father, and by all the friends. Rose Marie had not heard the pawing of horse's hoofs outside, nor yet the rumble of the coach. Truth to tell she was so lost in the wild dream of the moment that she had forgotten all about what was to come: the farewell to maman and papa, the noisy "good-bye" to friends, the conventional departure accompanied by shouts and cheers and showers of rose leaves which all richly-dowered brides have to experience.
In her case, too, it had all been duly planned, but it happened so differently!
She had been dancing with her lord, looking up like a fascinated bird into his face glowing with ardent love. Then the room began to spin round and round, she could see nothing very clearly, yet a delicious languor stole into her every limb, she closed her eyes, and gave herself over limp and motionless into his embrace. Suddenly she felt herself lifted off her feet and carried by strong protecting arms through door and passage, until the cold April wind struck her cheeks and forced her with the power of his frolicsome will to open her eyes once more. She saw as in a quick vision a rearing horse, two or three men in sad-coloured surcoats, one of whom clung to the horse's bridle, whilst the other held the stirrup, and then as a background of curious faces the crowd of street gaffers standing gaping round. Behind her the dense throng of 'prentices and wenches, of friends and serving-maids pressed forward down the narrow passage, shouting, clamouring cheering to the echoes; in the forefront of these papa and maman half laughing, half crying, waving hands and mopping tears.
But it was only a vision swift and sudden, for everything happened so quickly—and she was still so dizzy with the frantic whirl of the dance that she hardly remembered being lifted up on to the saddle and landed safely in the strong arms of her lord. The words of command had been so quickly spoken, my lord had jumped with such rapidity into the saddle, no wonder that she did not know exactly how she came to be where she was, clinging to him with all her might, and making herself very, very small lest she hindered him in the guiding of his horse.
She knew exactly how to hold on, and how to sit, for she had oft sat thus ere now, on her father's saddle when he took her with him for a ride—he bent on some business errand, she enjoying the movement, and the fresh air as soon as the grime and smoke of Paris had been left behind.
But no other ride had ever been quite like this one, for soon the horse settled down to an easy, swinging canter in the soft mud of the road, and there was an infinite sense of security in the clasp of the sinewy arm which held her so deliciously close.
Just one slight shifting of her lissome body to settle herself more comfortably, one little movement which seemed to bring her yet a little nearer to him.
"Is it well with you, my snowdrop?" he asked, bending his head in a vain endeavour to catch sight of her face.