"Who is misunderstanding now?" she says, with a decided change of tone. "Shall you be long away, Sir Guy?"
"Not very," icily. "Truston, as you know, is but a short drive from this."
"True." Then with charmingly innocent concern, "Don't you like going out so late?—you seem a little cross."
"Do I?"
"Yes. But perhaps I mistake; I am always making mistakes," says Miss Lilian, humbly; "I am very unfortunate. And you know what Ouida says, that 'one is so often thought to be sullen when one is only sad.' Are you sad?"
"No," says Guy, goaded past endurance; "I am not. But I should like to know what I have done that you should make a point at all times of treating me with incivility."
"Are you speaking of me?"—with a fine show of surprise, and widely-opened eyes; "what can you mean? Why, I shouldn't dare be uncivil to my guardian. I should be afraid. I should positively die of fright," says Miss Chesney, feeling strongly inclined to laugh, and darting a little wicked gleam at him from her eyes as she speaks.
"Your manner"—bitterly—"fully bears out your words. Still I think—— Why doesn't Granger bring round the carriage? Am I to give the same order half a dozen times?"—this to a petrified attendant who has answered the bell, and now vanishes, as though shot, to give it as his opinion down-stairs that Sir Guy is in "a h'orful wax!"
"Poor man, how you have frightened him!" says Lilian, softly. "I am sorry if I have vexed you." Holding out a small hand of amity,—"Shall we make friends before you go?"
"It would be mere waste of time," replies he, ignoring the hand; "and, besides, why should you force yourself to be on friendly terms with me?"