So saying, she went downstairs to the sitting room, feeling secure against his intrusion.
She took up her work, a piece of silk embroidery, and began to trace the outline of the pattern, humming a little air to herself.
Less than half an hour had the lady sat at her needlework, when the door opened softly.
She heard the slight sound through the silence of the house, looked up, and saw Col. Anglesea enter the room and walk toward her.
She started as if she had seen an apparition, and impulsively exclaimed:
“I thought you were miles away! I thought you had gone out for the day!”
“You heard me gallop off? Doubtless. I took a brisk ride along the turnpike as far as Chincapin Creek, turned down its banks to the shore, cantered along until I reached the bridle path leading up to your stables, and then dismounted, leaving my horse with the groom, and walked to the house. It was a brisk run, but it has done me good,” Col. Anglesea explained, as, uninvited, he drew a chair toward the fire and seated himself at Mrs. Force’s worktable, facing her.
The lady gave her attention to the pattern of her embroidery, and made no reply.
“If you had foreseen my quick return—certainly, if you had foreseen my errand—I should not have found you here; you would have kept out of my way; and even if I had sent a message requesting to speak with you, you would have made some excuse to decline or to defer the interview.”
“Perhaps I should. Why do you intrude upon my privacy, Col. Anglesea? What is it that you want now?” she inquired, with that blending of fear and defiance in her tone and manner which fatally betrayed the weakness of her defenses.