"Already, General! No; if you mean to be a tyrant you must wait till you come to the throne. I intend to show at Punchestown the first day of the races. I have made an assignation with you. If you like to keep it, well and good; if you like to let it alone, do! I shall not break my heart!"
He felt at a disadvantage. She seemed so cool, so unimpressionable, so devoid of the sentiment and sensibility he longed to kindle in her nature. For a moment, he could almost have wished to draw back, to resume his freedom, while there was yet time; but no, she looked so handsome, so queenly—he had rather be wretched with her than happy with any other woman in the world!
"Of course, I will not fail," he answered. "I would go a deal further than Punchestown, only to be within hearing of your voice. When do you start? If Mrs. Lushington, or anybody you knew well, would accompany you, why should we not cross over together?"
"Now, you're too exacting," she replied. "Haven't I told you we shall meet on the course, when the saddling-bell rings for the first race. Not a moment sooner, and my wish is the law of the Medes and Persians—as yet!"
The two last words carried a powerful charm. Had he been mature in wisdom as in years, he ought never to have thought of marrying a woman who could influence him so easily.
"I shall count the days till then," he replied gallantly. "They will pass very slowly, but, as the turnspit says in the Spanish proverb, 'the largest leg of mutton must get done in time!' Good-bye, Miss Douglas. Good luck to you; and I hope Satanella will win!"
He bowed over the hand she gave him, but did not attempt to kiss it, taking his leave with a mingled deference and interest she could not but appreciate and admire.
"Why can't I care for him?" she murmured passionately, as the street-door closed with a bang. "He's good, he's generous, he's a gentleman! Poor fellow, he loves me devotedly; he's by no means ugly, and he's not so very old! Yet I can't, I can't! And I've promised him, almost promised him! Well, come what may, I've got a clear week of freedom still. But what a fool I've been, and oh! what a fool I am!"
Then she sent her excuse to Mrs. Lushington, declined dinner at home, ordered tea, didn't drink any, and so crept sorrowful and supperless to bed.