Helen was at the Laird's side.
"But I have never ridden so," said she. "Would Monsieur take me to the bridge—a little way and back," but before the Laird had given his assent she was in the saddle and off with a wave of her arm; and I thought of the night when she had ridden that way once before, with the father of Bryde on the big roadster, and the Laird was thinking the same thing.
They were back in a little; indeed, the hoof-beats were very plain all the time, but Helen was white as she dismounted, and her good-bye was very low, and she listened to the klop-to-klop of the hoofs for a long time before she came in.
That night she came into Margaret's room (for the lass told me everything), and sat down wearily by the bedside.
"Your spell works, Mistress Margaret," said she.
I think Margaret would raise herself on her pillows.
"Ah," said she, "have you brought Bryde to heel, Helen?"
"The spell works," said Helen, "but I think backwards. Margaret, ma belle, he brings me to heel, it seem."
"They all have that knack, my men-folk," said Margaret—"mostly."