"Do stay!" she said, coming near, and almost entreating me. "My brother will be so vexed by your leaving us; and I too. If you go I shall always think it was my presence that had driven you away."
What could be the meaning of that speech? It made me feel that I was either a favored or a flattered man. If the first she who made it was an angel; if the second, a cruel coquette. In which category should I place Cornelia Woodley?
To discover this, was the object of my next remark, the rudeness of which can only be excused by the torture my suspicions were causing me.
"Not your presence, Miss Woodley," I said, "but that of one whose absence would no doubt cause you far greater regret than mine."
The surprise that leaped up into her great gazelle eyes was not unpleasing to me. There was something in it that spoke of innocence. At least, it was not coquetry.
"Of whom do you speak, sir?"
I hesitated to give the name. I may have been wronging her. In any case I had no right to interfere with her predilections. My speech had placed me in a dilemma, from which I would have been too happy to escape without further controversy. Fortunately there was a chance; by her brother at that moment reappearing, to renew his solicitations.
This time they were successful. The short conversation with his sister had caused a change in my sentiments. It had inspired me with fresh hope; under the whisperings of which I was easily persuaded to stay for the grand bear-hunt.
Next day, according to promise, Bradley brought back the horse—one of his negroes riding another.