But they did not come up with the others, despite his assurances, and the fact that they rode very fast for a considerable time. He professed himself very much astonished, and declared that they must have made a stupid blunder, and have gone by some other road.
“In that case, Sir Conrad,” said Monica, “I will dispense with your escort. I am perfectly well able to take care of myself alone.”
He read her displeasure in her face and voice. She had an instinct that she had been tricked, but it was not a suspicion she could put into words.
“Sir Conrad!” he repeated, with gentle reproach. “Have I offended you, Monica?”
“Sir Conrad, it is time we should understand one another,” said Monica, turning her head towards him. “I made you a sort of promise once—a promise of friendship I believe it was. I am not certain that I ever ought to have given it; but after my marriage with a man you hold as an enemy, it is impossible that I can look upon you as a true friend. I do not judge or condemn you, but I do say that we had better meet as infrequently as possible, and then as mere acquaintances. You have strained your right of friendship, as it is, by the unwarrantable and persistent use of my Christian name, which you must have known was not for you to employ now. We were playfellows in childhood, I know, but circumstances alter cases, and our circumstances have greatly changed. It must be Sir Conrad and Lady Monica now between you and me, if ever we meet in future.”
His eyes gleamed with that wild beast ferocity that lay latent in his nature, but his voice was well under command.
“Your will is law, Lady Monica. It is hard on me, but you know best. I will accept any place that you assign me.”
She was not disarmed by his humility.
“I assign you no place; and you know that what I say is not hard. We are not at Trevlyn now. You know your own world well; I am only just beginning to know it. You had no right ever to take liberties that could give occasion for criticism or remark.”