And she blushed rosy red with a thought but half-conceived, turning away lest those twinkling stars should read it—yet unformed.
CHAPTER XVI
A MORNING ADVENTURE
A morning of sunshine, Nature's atonement for past cruelties.
And Morice Conyers was ready enough to accept it, seeing that the storm itself had been something less than an enemy in bringing him to Kérnak.
However, he must leave to-day and ride for Varenac. Steenie would be on his way there, and Denningham too, not to mention Marcel Trouet, whose coming would not be delayed more than a week at most. And yet he could do nothing till Trouet came. The temper of his people was too uncertain to dare announce his policy with none to back him up.
"Ça ira" might possibly stick in Breton throats, and then what would happen if Marcel were not by to teach them another tune?
All this was food for thought as Morice strode moodily along the uneven path bordered by heather and gorse.
He had risen early, and, being in restless mood, had gone out.