“This is insolent, sir.”
“It is open to that construction, I admit,” said Somers, as he picked up the letter which the major had read with so much astonishment.
It was a blank sheet, but the direction on the outside was in a lady’s handwriting, evidently Maud’s. It was nothing but a “blind,” to afford a reasonable pretence for the major’s sudden departure. Somers put it in his pocket for future reference.
“The chaise is ready, captain,” said Maud.
“So am I; but you are not.”
“My hat and shawl are in the entry,” she replied, sullenly.
They passed out of the house when she had robed herself for the ride. Somers assisted her into the vehicle.
“Where is the major?” asked he, turning to the spot where he had stood a moment before. Maud’s reply was a silvery laugh, which was a sufficient explanation that he had taken himself off.
“So much the better,” said Somers. “Good afternoon, Miss Hasbrouk,” he added, as he walked rapidly up the road, in the direction of the farm-house.
She was so surprised by this sudden and unexpected change in the programme, that she could make no reply. She did not know whether the movement boded good or evil; whether the captain had gone in pursuit of the major, or to the place where he had left his horse.