‘Certainly not the first; as to the last, I guess that you are she whom I overheard last night quarrelling with a man who might well be your father, since he appeared to be endeavouring to exercise authority, which you—with the licence of a daughter who is also a beautiful girl—resisted.’
‘Well, you have made a close guess. My father and I—if it was really ourselves you overheard—had disagreed. You remember voices well.’
‘Such a voice as yours, once heard, is no more to be forgotten than is your face, once seen.’
‘Oh, by the saints, if you are of the flattering order of cavaliers, we shall not long be friends. Come, have you seen my horse?’
‘No, I have not,’ I laughed; ‘but there is mine to be had for the asking.’
‘You would not be best pleased if I accepted the offer—though I thank you for making it. I was riding away—I know not whither, perhaps a very long journey—when my horse threw me: if I took your horse you might not see him again!’
‘That would be an irreparable loss only if he carried you away with him beyond return.’
‘Well, I mean to return, and that is why I am escaping.’
‘A riddle!’ I exclaimed, laughing. ‘Why are you escaping, if I may use the word—you who have only just arrived?’
‘How know you that?’ she asked sharply.