“You are not coming with me?” was his answer, noting her.
“Yes—” she gave back hurriedly. “You see—I am dressed—”
“Yesterday, you said you would not accompany me, madam,” he commented coldly, “and I see no need.”
“I should prefer to, my lord.”
“Why?” he frowned.
“I—I do not care to be alone—these people outside frighten me.”
“There are the servants.”
She moved uneasily. “I do not trust servants—indeed, I would rather come.”
He looked at her curiously; it was rare indeed for her to be anxious for his company; though since his father’s death with no one to foment it, the bitterness between them had grown less active, still he was surprised that she should so far depart from her usual silent avoidance of him as to desire to accompany him to-night—to-night when his servants shrank from driving with him through Edinburgh Town.
She waited his verdict anxiously, her slender fingers pulling heedlessly at the roses and violets beside her.