“I will not fail to give them your orders,” he retorted quickly, and was gone ere I could make reply.
And presently they came.
Long ere they entered the room I heard the soft rustling of their gowns and the click of their heels upon the polished oaken floor. The younger sister’s face was pale, with a certain shrinking timidity in the covert glance she stole at me. My lady’s face was stone, and her eyes were hard and glittering. I bowed low to them on their entering, a salute which the younger woman returned with a slight acknowledgment, and which my lady totally ignored.
When they had seated themselves opposite me, and the steward had placed the covers upon the table, I lost some of my original nervousness in fulfilling the civilities of the table. And I strove to appear entirely at my ease, praising the beauty of the gardens and the cooking of the dishes before us. But to all my conversation—nay, even to direct questions, the younger woman replied only in monosyllables—my lady not at all.
And they made no pretence of eating what I pressed upon them. Stately and still, they sat and looked at me. And gradually I froze!
They could not have hit upon a better device whereby to unnerve me. Minute by minute, try as I would, my assumed air of assurance left me. Beneath the gaze of my lady’s scornful eyes, of her rigid figure and curled lip—that all proclaimed my presence as pollution—I felt the hot blood mantling to my brow, and the words died stammering from my tongue.
I strove to gather courage from the wine before me, and my hand was shaking.
Presently I could bear it no longer, and I pushed my plate from me and rose to my feet.
“If you would prefer for the future to dine alone, madam,” I said sullenly, “you have my permission to do so.”
“I thank you for the concession, sir,” my lady said coldly; “which, being prisoners, we have no right to expect. Also as our jailer,” she continued with bitter emphasis, “is it permitted us to take our daily ride alone?”