"You will not hurt him?" asked Kate doubtingly.
"Hurt him? We shall not even catch him. He will leave you and fly for his life!" cried Trask.
"I tell you now, gentlemen, if he stands the test and disproves your taunts against his valour, my respect for him will be far more than you can ever hope to inspire. Yet, after all, it will be a diversion—it will be fun to see how he will act," mused the fair plotter.
It required all of Kate's courage and a dismal sacrifice of pride to suggest the ride to Captain Studdiford, but she did it the next morning, stopping him near the fort after having walked not thirty feet behind for more than two hundred yards. She was a trifle insecure as to her own valour in this preliminary step.
The rosiness of her cheeks might have been by others attributed to the chill of the December morn, but she knew they were the flames from an inward fire.
Captain Studdiford's heart thumped unusually fast as he looked down into the piquant face and big blue eyes, which for the first time since he had known her, wore a gleam bordering on embarrassment. They were very soft and timid this morning—there was something appealing in their tempting depths.
"May I not walk with you? I am going your way," were her first words as she reached his side.
"Whither, pray?"
"Oh, to—" and here she blushed, for in truth she had no destination—"to Anna Corwin's," she concluded in relief.
"But Mistress Corwin lives back yonder. How came you to be going this way?"