It struck me afterwards that perhaps I, too, had said a queer thing; but we seemed to understand each other. Presently we sat down again, and he talked to me about the Parsees; he appears to know a great deal about them.
We narrowly escaped a second run downhill; again the wind seized my hat, but he nimbly caught it on the wing.
“Why don’t you do as I do?” he asked, passing his fingers through his hair. “It’s a great mistake to wear a hat, especially if one has a turn for trespassing.”
“Who tells you,” laughed I then, “that I am trespassing? For aught you know, this may be my own ground.”
The young man looked at me curiously.
“Are you, then, Emilia Fletcher?” he cried.
I nodded assent; whereupon he held out his hand and jerked his head forward; it was evidently an attempt at courtesy. I took the hand and laughed outright: he looked so funny with his bright eyes twinkling beneath the tangled forelock.
“I have heard of you,” he said, “and I am glad to meet you. The other day I asked to whom the land belonged, and was told that you were half Italian and rather eccentric. You seem to be a human being. I am glad to have met you. My name is Gabriel Norton.”
Here the big bell rang out from the house, summoning me to tea,—it had rung once already. So the apparition and I parted company.
I wonder if he has caught cold; I am sure that I have; I have been sneezing all the evening.