Janice sprang to her feet. “And I’ve spoke to you as if you were just—just a man,” she cried in a horrified voice.
”’T was not fair so to beguile me!”
Evatt looked at the ground to hide the smile he could not suppress. “’T was done for the king, Janice,” he said. “And ’t is all the more romantic that I’ve won ye without your knowing. Sit down again; if ’t were not in view of the house I should be kneeling to ye.”
Janice sank back on the garden seat. “I can’t believe it yet!” she gasped breathlessly. “I knew of course thou wast a court gentleman, but—”
“And now I suppose ye’ll send me packing and wed the yokel?” suggested the lover.
“Oh, no!” cried Janice. “If you—if you really—” the girl gave a glance at the man, coloured to the temples, and, springing to her feet, fled toward the house. She did not stop till she reached her room, where she flung herself on the bed and buried her cheeks in the pillow. Thus she lay for some time, then rose, looked at herself in the mirror, and finding her hair sadly disordered, she set about the task of doing it over. “’T is beyond belief!” she murmured. “I must be very beautiful!” She paused in her task, and studied her own face. “Now I know why he always makes me feel so uncomfortable —and afraid—and—and gawky. ’T is because he is a lord. Sometimes he does look at me as if—as if he were hungry— ugh! It frights me. But he must know what ’s the mode. ‘Lady Janice Clowes.’ ’T is a pity the title is not prettier. Whatever will Tibbie say when she hears!”
It was a little after ten that evening when the squire and Evatt parted for the night in the upper hail, the former being, as usual, not tipsy, but in a jovial mood toward all things; and as this attitude is conducive to sleep, his snores were ere long reverberating to all waking ears. One pair of these were so keenly alive to every noise that not the chirp of a cricket escaped them, and from time to time their owner started at the smallest sound. Owing to this attention, they heard presently the creak of the stairs, the soft opening of the front door, and even the swish of feet on the grass. Then, though the ears fairly strained to catch the least noise, came a silence, save for the squire's trumpeting, for what seemed to the girl a period fairly interminable.
Finally the rustling of the grass told of the return of the prowler, and as the girl heard it she once more began trembling, “Oh!” she moaned. “If only I had n’t—if only he’d go away!” She rose from the bed, and stole to the window.
“Mr. Evatt, I’m so frightened, I don’t dare,” she whispered to the figure standing below. “Wait till to-morrow night!
“Nonsense!” said the man, so loudly that Janice was more cared than ever. “I told ye it must be to-night. Come down quickly.”