“What! Do you order me from my own parlor?”
Hope accelerated Peyton’s heart at this, but he feigned indifference.
“Go or stay,” he said; “’tis nothing to me!”
“You rebel, you speak like that to me!”
Her speech rang with genuine anger, and of a little hotter quality than he had thought to raise.
He was about to answer, when suddenly a sound, far and faint, reached his ear. “Isn’t that—do you hear—” he said, huskily, and turning cold.
“Horses?” said Elizabeth. “Yes,—on the road from King’s Bridge.”
She went to one of the eastern windows, opened the sash, unfastened the shutter without, and let in a rush of cold air. Then she closed the sash and looked out through the small panes.
“Is it—” said Peyton, quietly, with as much steadiness as he could command, “I wonder—can it be—”