He, who had watched her every movement, and even by some devilish inspiration seemed to know her every intention beforehand—he, lurking in the shade of the curtain, and looking from his chamber window, had seen her come out of the house, warmly dressed in her quaint walking suit of a brown cloth winter cloak “all buttoned up before,” and brown beaver poke bonnet tied down under her chin, cross the lawn and pass out of the south gate toward the woods beyond—followed by the faithful house dog.
He knew instinctively why she had left the house and where she was going.
He waited until she had entered the wood, and then he left his hiding place, drew on his overcoat, took his hat and gloves, went downstairs and left the house in pursuit of her.
He walked fast until he came into the woods, where he heard her voice a few rods ahead of him talking to her dog.
Then he slackened his pace and walked softly behind her. The closeness of the undergrowth prevented him from catching even a glimpse of her little poke bonnet; but he still heard her talking to her dog.
Presently these sounds ceased, and he crept cautiously on and found her sitting on a stone at the further end of the rustic bridge that crossed Chincapin Creek, with the dog lying at her feet.
Joshua never could abide Anglesea, and his threatening growl was the first warning that Odalite had of the approach of her natural enemy.
“You should not walk alone in these woods, my dear Miss Force,” he said, coming up to her side and leaning on the railing of the bridge as he bent over her.
“I am not alone. The dog is with me, and he would not let any one injure or even annoy me. See! if I had not now his head on my lap and my hands around his neck, he would fly at you even. Easy—easy, Joshua, good fellow!” she added, softly caressing the guardian who was showing his teeth and muttering low thunder.
“I hope I do not annoy you. Miss Force,” he pleaded, in a persuasive tone, as he bent nearer to her.