"You are early, General," said she, giving him her hand with royal condescension; "early, but welcome, and—and—The horses will be round in five minutes—Have you had any breakfast? I am afraid my coffee is quite cold."
General St. Josephs knew what it was to starve in the Crimea and broil in the Mutiny; had been shot at very often by guns of various calibres; had brought into discipline one of the worst-drilled regiments in the service, and was a distinguished officer, past forty years of age. What made his heart beat, and his hands turn cold? Why did the blood rush to his temples, while she gave him greeting?
"Don't hurry, pray!" said he; "I can wait as long as you like. I'd wait the whole day for you, if that was all!"
He spoke in a husky voice, as if his lips were dry. Perhaps that was the reason she seemed not to hear.
Throwing the window wide open, she looked down the street. Taking more of that thoroughfare than was convenient by advancing lengthways, with many plunges and lashings out, and whiskings of her long square tail, a black mare with a side-saddle was gradually approaching the door. The groom who led her seemed not a little relieved when he got her to stand by the kerb-stone, patting her nose and whispering many expletives suggestive of composure and docility.
This attendant, though gloved, booted, and belted for a ride, felt obviously that one such charge as he had taken in hand was enough. He meant to fetch his own horse from the stable as soon as his mistress was in the saddle.
A staid person, out of livery, came to the door, looking up and down the street with the weary air of a man who resides chiefly in his pantry. He condescended to remark, however, that "Miss Douglas was a-comin' down, and the mare's coat had a polish on her same as if she'd been varnished."
While the groom winked in reply, Miss Douglas appeared on the pavement; and the baker, delivering loaves three doors off, turned round to wonder and approve.
"May I put you up?" said the General meekly, almost timidly.