“I think that you are right, Margaret, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. He shall not find me so childish in the future. In my great love for him I may have acted weakly. I am the daughter of an earl,” she added, proudly.
There was a resolute ring in her tones, and her head resumed its haughty pose.
So when Sir Harold came to the Hall next day, an expectant smile upon his lips, a resolve in his heart to beg Elaine’s pardon, and to promise never to offend her again, he was informed by a servant that my lady had gone for a ride, and that she was accompanied by Viscount Rivington.
His face turned so white that the man noticed it, and asked:
“Are you ill, Sir Harold?”
“No,” he returned, shortly. “Which way did her ladyship go?”
“In the direction of Ashbourne, Sir Harold.”
The baronet rode away, and as he galloped through the park, he saw Viscount Rivington and Lady Elaine crossing a distant hill on their return home.
His brain was on fire. He dared not meet them now, and continued on his way—anywhere.
For three days he nursed his jealous wrath, and heard no word of Elaine. Then news came to him of a garden party at Seabright Hall, to be followed by a ball.