A couple of days of mingled hope and fear passed before he encountered her again, when Brace Norton’s brow flushed and his pulses beat rapidly, for Isa was alone, save that a groom followed at a distance, with difficulty restraining his highly-bred steed, while his mistress’s little jennet gently ambled along.
It was to both like a dream, that meeting; as, walking slowly beside her horse, his hand resting upon the saddle, Brace listened to Isa’s faltered thanks, turning from time to time to gaze in the sweet, gentle face bent towards him—a face whose eyes met his with a soft, trusting look, that made his heart swell within his breast, till a rapid step from behind told of an intruder, and Lord Maudlaine made his appearance; when, with a sigh of regret, Isa held out her hand to be taken by Brace, who retained it within his own, while he unflinchingly encountered the fierce, haughty look of contempt and pride cast upon him by the Viscount.
The next minute Isa had withdrawn her hand, and, attended by Lord Maudlaine, gone towards the park, leaving Brace, as he strolled slowly home, to recall a score of things which he wished to have said.
Another meeting, and once more Brace was walking with her side by side, the hand which held her little whip not being withdrawn when he laid upon it his own, to stand at last gazing up in her face, and peering into her soft, sad eyes.
He tried to speak twice, but the words did not come; but he felt that time was passing, and with an effort he broke the silence.
“Isa,” he said, in deep, earnest tones, “I am going to be very bold. I have a question to ask—one whose answer shall make me happy, or send me wretched away. That gentleman—Lord Maudlaine—you know what rumour says: is the rumour true?”
She returned his gaze for a few moments by one as earnest, and in that brief space she saw once more the scene in the marsh—felt, too, the icy water, and the chill as of coming death stealing over her, even while those brave arms held her so tightly; and, as she thought on, it seemed to her that the life he had won from the black pit should by right be his; and her look, as she gazed on unflinchingly in his face, was even, though abstracted, loving, trusting enough to have sent him away at peace. It was an answer to his question; but not yet content, he whispered, softly: “Isa—dear Isa, may I, then, hope?” “Miss Gernon, Sir Murray has requested me to see you back in safety,” said a harsh voice at their side; and, on turning, Brace became aware of the presence of Lord Maudlaine, who must have approached upon the grass by which the lane was bordered for his coming to have been unperceived. “Sir Murray understands,” continued the Viscount, “that you are often encountered during your rides, and thinks it better that you should not be alone.”
“And, pray, who was his informant?” exclaimed Brace, fiercely.
“I was,” said his lordship, in cold, meaning tones. “If you have any more to say you know my address.”
Brace Norton felt that he had, indeed, much more to say, but a glance at Isa Gernon’s troubled face restrained him, and in silence he allowed them to pass away; but not without his seeing that Lord Maudlaine was talking earnestly to what seemed unwilling ears.