"Are you glad you came?"
And this time she did not try at all.
"Yes."
"That's good!" The reins fell loosely on the mare's back. "Peggy's tired," he said. "Don't hurry, old girl. Take your time."
Mona shivered nervously.
"You are cold," he said, taking a plaid from the back of the seat. "Will you put this round you?"
"No, thank you; I am not really cold, and I have no hands. I should be blown away altogether if I did not hold on to this iron bar."
"Should you?" he said, with a curious intonation in his voice. "Take the reins."
He put them in her hand, unfolded the plaid, and stooped to put it round her shoulders. In a momentary lull of the storm, he fancied he felt her warm breath on his chilled cheek; a little curl of her hair, dancing in the wind, brushed his hand lightly like a cobweb; and she sat there, unguarded as a child, one hand holding the reins, the other grasping the rail of the gig.
Then Dudley forgot himself. His good resolutions were blotted out, and he felt only a gambler's passionate desire to stake all in one mad throw. If it failed, he was a ruined man; but, if it succeeded, what treasure-house could contain his riches? He could not wait,—he could not, he could not! One moment would tell him all, and he must know it. The future might have pleasures of its own in store, but would it ever bring back this very hour, of night, and storm, and solitude, and passionate desire?