He bent his eyes on the floor, fixing them on a flat tombstone at his feet, as if feeling half-guilty in thus wishing to desert them.
“Why do you need to leave us, Captain Desfrayne?” demanded Blanche, in a sharp, ringing tone, indicating great surprise and a dash of displeasure. “Are you obliged to go?”
“I—I must return to my quarters,” answered he, still avoiding her glance.
“Oh! it will be impossible for you to go without seeing Lady Quaintree, at least,” protested Miss Dormer. “Besides, it is nearer to the barracks from the principal gates of the Hall. You must, at least, pass through with us, and just see Lady Quaintree and mama.”
Paul glanced swiftly at Lois. She was standing up, the pride of a young empress dilating her figure, displayed in the turn of her head. Her face was half-averted, as if she would not deign to take part in the argument, but her fingers were twitching nervously in one another.
“Why should this strange mistrust—this presentiment of deadly ill, haunt me?” Paul asked himself. “There is no danger of my falling in love with this girl, and as little of her honoring me with any tender regards. Probably her heart is already fully occupied with the image of some one else. This vague fear is simply absurd, and I must master it. I am unwell, and my nerves are unstrung. Perhaps I may shortly find an opportunity of explaining to her how I am really situated. It would be better to speak to her myself than to leave the painful duty to others.”
He gave way to Blanche’s arguments, with a tolerable grace, though alleging that he saw no reason why he should feel it necessary to see the elder ladies.
One of the servants was directed to get his horse, and bring it round to the front of Flore Hall; then the party moved in the direction of the house.
Lois was determined on not giving way again, but she was faint and giddy, and at length was compelled to accept the support of Paul Desfrayne’s arm.
Not a word was exchanged on the way, though it seemed of a wearisome length.