For the rest of the evening the girl was like one moving in an enchanted dream. Her eyes shone, her cheeks glowed, her hair glittered in the lamplight like a crown set over her fair brows. Miss Gastonguay, fascinated by her beauty, could not keep her gaze from her, and even Chelda threw her a frequent glance of an apparently generous admiration.
They did not go to bed until a late hour, but Derrice was too much excited to sleep long. She dropped into one short nap, then her excited brain, having thrown this sop to her fatigued body, woke her up and drove her to the window.
She stood in its embrasure, a dove-coloured dressing-gown thrown over her shoulders, her face turned toward the town, her whole attitude one of charming expectancy. To-morrow he would be at home,—her own adored husband.
The night was not very dark. There was no moon, but the stars were shining brightly, and some light was afforded to the atmosphere by the shining bosom of the river.
Across the face of her musings there suddenly drifted the fat figure of the pony. Either allured by the calm beauty of the night, or disturbed in his slumbers by some remembrance of a too hearty supper, he had left his loose box, whose door was always open, and was employing his time by strolling about the lawn and the gravel drive.
Derrice knew that in his younger days he had been a circus pony, and although long since rescued from that life by Miss Gastonguay, he yet retained some habits not in general peculiar to the equine race.
He could neatly brush Miss Gastonguay's coat by means of a whisk held between his teeth, he could also look for a hidden handkerchief, and upon one or two occasions he had been ignominiously expelled from the house while indulging in an interested search for a sugar-bowl.
To-night he was evidently uneasy, and Derrice watched him compassionately as he walked slowly up and down before the house, and presently, by way of quieting his nerves, went to practise his steps on a trick ladder that Miss Gastonguay had had erected on the lawn for him.
Up and down the steps he went, carefully balancing himself on his dainty hoofs, but he found no peace for his troubled mind in the exercise, and soon returned to the pawed spot on the grass below his mistress's window, where he stood nervously throwing his head in the air and seeming to catch it as it came down.
"Poor pony, he is unhappy and I am so happy," murmured Derrice, and hastily thrusting her arms into the sleeves of her gown, she drew on a pair of shoes and resolved to go down and beg him to return to the stable.