"I think we did—yes," said Mr. Rutledge, with an almost imperceptible compression of the lips, as, bending forward, he startled the eager horses with a galling lash of the whip.
Grace was quite white with alarm as we reached the village.
"Mr. Rutledge, why do you drive so frightfully fast? I am terrified to death."
He drew the horses in a little, and, looking down at her, said:
"Were we going fast? I am sorry I frightened you; for my part, I thought we crept."
He paused a moment at the Parsonage gate. Mrs. Arnold was in the garden; Mr. Rutledge called out to her that he had brought Mr. Shenstone's letters and papers, but had not time to stop to see him. She approached the carriage, looking so lady-like and attractive, with her soft, white hair smoothed plain under her neat cap, and her clinging dark dress, that Victor said, involuntarily to me:
"What an attractive-looking person! I never saw a gentler face."
She was quite absorbed in attending to the message Mr. Rutledge left for Mr. Shenstone, and in her retiring modesty I do not think she ventured a look at us, till Victor, who had been watching her with interest, addressed some remark to her. She raised her eyes at the sound of his voice in a startled way, the same fluttering, frightened look transformed her quiet features, and trying in vain to command herself, she stammered some excuse, and turned away.
"Strange!" exclaimed Victor, as we drove on. "Did you notice the odd way in which that person looked at me, both now and the other day?"
"It is strange," said Mr. Rutledge, thoughtfully. "Can you account for it in any way?"