A WOMAN'S WILL
Riding through the darkness of an autumn night with loose rein—a weary journey and dangerous too for the solitary traveller; but Michael Berrington recked nothing then of such danger, seeing he was set to fight a much greater.
A fetish, this honour, say many; but the few who guard her as a possession dearer than life smile, knowing that she is precious, with her songs of inspiration and lofty ideals.
So Michael rode, and found his heart first beating high with that fighting hope which deems failure impossible and the age of miracles not passed, and again enveloped in the pall of shame and doubt.
He spared neither spur nor whip that night. Thrice he changed horses and thrice felt the weary beasts stumbling beneath him ere he reached his destination, and by then the dawn was widening and spreading into the glory of morning light.
They were early risers at Langton Hall, and there was small delay in gaining admittance, whilst Giles, grinning a sly welcome, made haste to usher him into the sunny morning-room.
Count Jéhan was finding English customs as extraordinary as they were agreeable. French breakfasts of roll and chocolate were as little understood here as French pruderies and proprieties.
During the last two days he had found himself wondering what his mother would say could she see him sitting tête-à-tête at meals with this pretty and adorable little cousin. He had not altogether grasped the fact that Gabrielle, motherless and alone, had been brought up with a freedom wholly unknown to other English maidens.
A cousin—to Gabrielle—seemed to be a vastly superior sort of brother, one who never flouted, but was always kind and most considerate.
During those two days she had heard so much too of Madame her Aunt, and Cécile, that she was longing more than ever for the day to come when she might welcome them to England. And of course they would come—they would have to come.