Secretly angry, she was not baffled, and suddenly declared her intention of taking off her skates, she would then be better able to talk to Charles than flying round about him, and putting in a word here and there. She had had enough of the amusement for one morning, would Charles kindly come and help her? He was too polite to refuse, although it took him further away from the bank where Amy still held his horse. He gave one glance as he turned away—and yet another—the latter look betrayed him. Frances saw it, and a bitter remark rose to her lips, the only one she was guilty of that day; but it came angrily and vehemently; she could not help it, could not subdue it; she would have given worlds to have afterwards unsaid it.
"Miss Neville makes a capital groom. I suppose she has been accustomed to that sort of thing."
"I never heard Miss Neville say an unkind word of any one," was the severe rejoinder.
"I shall hate myself for that false move," thought Frances. "I must try and hide my feelings better," and she raised her foot to his knee, but even while she did so, a scream from Julia made him spring to his feet.
But he was too late; his horse was plunging and rearing violently, while Amy's weak arm seemed barely sufficient to curb and control him, although she was trying her utmost to pacify and quiet him.
Charles took it all in at a glance.
"I shall love that girl in spite of myself," he said, as he sprang across the frozen surface to her side.
How tenderly anxious he was, even his voice slightly trembled as he asked the question:
"Are you hurt?"
No, she was not. But her hand dropped helplessly to her side as he drew the reins from it.