"You may have changed little; but that little in you has caused whatever change you find in me."
"It is true, then, that you are angry with me? I had hoped otherwise," said Mrs. Pennroyal, with a sad dignity that sat well upon her.
"Angry with you!" broke out Archibald, his face flushing. "Has it been a desire to keep my--my friendship that has caused you to--"
Mrs. Pennroyal interrupted him, drawing herself up proudly. "Pardon me, sir, I had no intention of forcing your good-will. If you will be my enemy, please yourself, and perhaps I may learn to become yours." And she turned her horse as she spoke. But Archibald, thus seemingly put in the wrong, and unwilling now to terminate the interview so abruptly, pressed his heel against his horse's side, and was again beside her.
"You misunderstand me," said he. "What could I think? You will not deny that your--that Richard Pennroyal has shown himself no friend of mine."
"I shall deny nothing that you see fit to charge against me, sir," rejoined the lady, still hurt and indignant, and the more irresistible.
Archibald reflected that she was not, perhaps, justly responsible for the malevolence of another person, even though that person were her husband; and from this thought to thinking that she might, perhaps, be inclined to sympathize against her husband and with himself, was an easy transition. This perilous fancy made his pulses throb and his eyes gleam. He caught her horse's bridle.
"Do not go yet! Let us talk a little, since we are met."
"What has Sir Archibald Malmaison to say to me?"
"You called me 'Archibald' just now."