"What the devil do you mean?" he muttered.
"If I were a man, in your place, I would have the great Sir Stephen at my feet, to make or to break as I pleased. I would never rest until I could be able to say: 'You're a great man in the world's eyes, but I am your master; you are my puppet, and you have to dance to my music, whether the tune be a dead march or a jig.' That is what I should do if I were a man; but I am only a girl, and it seems to me nowadays that men have more of the woman in them than we have."
He stopped and stared at her in the moonlight, a dark frown on his face, his eyes heavy with doubt and suspicion.
"Look here, my girl," he said, "you are showing up in a new light to-night. You are talking as your mother used to talk. And you aren't doing it without a purpose. What is it? What grudge can you, a mere girl who has only known him for a couple of days, have against Sir Stephen?"
She smiled.
"Let us say that I am only concerned for my father's wounded pride and honour," she said. "Or let us say that I have a game of my own to play, and that I am asking you to help me while you gratify your own desire for revenge. Will you help me?"
"Tell me—tell me what your game is. Good Lord!"—with a scowl. "Fancy you having a game: it's—it's ridiculous!"
"Almost as ridiculous as calling me a girl and expecting to see me playing with a doll or a hoop," she returned, calmly. "But you needn't reply. I can see you mean to do it, like a good and indulgent father; and some day, perhaps soon, I will, like a good and dutiful daughter, tell you why I wanted you to do it. Is that you, Mr. Orme? Will I come and sing? Oh, yes, if you wish it. Where is the little dog?" she asked, looking up at him with a new expression in her languorous eyes, as she glided beside him.
"Asleep on my bed," replied Stafford, with a laugh. "My man has turned him off and made him a luxurious couch with cushions three or four times, but he would persist on getting on again, so he'll have to stay, I suppose?"
"Are you always so good-natured?" she asked, in a low voice. "Or do you reserve all your tenderness of heart for dogs and horses—as Mr. Howard declares?"