An impatient expression furrowed his brow. He had relied on easily prevailing upon her through her gratitude; continuing in his disinterested rôle for yet some time; resuming the journey on the morrow, carrying her farther away under pretext of mistaking the road, until––Here his plans had faded into a vague perspective, dominated by unreasoning self-confidence and egotism.
But her words threatened a rupture at the outset that would seriously alter the status of the adventure.
“It is a mistake to go on to-night,” he said, with a dissenting gesture. “However, if you are 161 determined––” And Mauville stepped to the window. “Why, the carriage is not there!” he exclaimed, looking out.
“Not there!” she repeated, incredulously. “You told them to change the horses. Why––”
“I don’t understand,” returned the land baron, with an effort to make his voice surprised and concerned. “He may––Hello-a, there! You!––Oly-koeks!” he called out, interrupting his own explanation.
Not Oly-koeks, but the driver’s face, appeared from behind the barn door, and, gazing through the window, the young girl, with a start, suddenly realized that she had seen him not for the first time that day––but where?––when? Through the growing perplexity of her thoughts she heard the voice of her companion
“Why don’t you hitch up the grays?”
“There are no horses in the barn,” came the answer.
“Strange, the care-taker did not tell me they had been taken away!” commented the other, hastily, stepping from the window as the driver vanished once more into the barn. “I am sorry, but there seems no alternative but to wait––at least, until I can send for others.”
She continued to gaze toward the door through which the man had disappeared. She could place him now, although his livery had been discarded for shabby clothes; she recalled him distinctly in spite of this changed appearance.