“A thousand apologies, my dear Captain, for my reckless riding and my awkward tongue—there is small excuse for the former, I admit, but my veil may explain the latter.—You are not hurt?”
A voice so soft and sweet must have a face to match it, and Hertz went a step nearer.
“Madame can cure everything but my heart, if she but raise the veil,” he said.
The voice laughed softly.
“Then, sir, I am afraid to raise it—your heart would not survive the shock. Good-bye, and thank you,” and she spurred across to where old Scartman was standing near the stables.
“I am to meet some one here at four o’clock,” she said; “has my party come?”
Boniface’s shrewd little eyes had taken her in at a single glance.
“Gentleman, I suppose?” he asked.—“None of them?” jerking his thumb toward the two lancers.—“No? then he’s not here yet.”
She glided gracefully out of saddle, and hooked up her skirt.
“Put my horse in the stall nearest the door,” she ordered; and herself saw it done. “Now, I want a room—the big one on the lower floor—for an hour or so.”