She said—
'Richard Marston, I cannot tell how grieved I am to see you here. Both papa and I were so sorry to hear all about those Momberah cattle.'
I stammered out something or other, I hardly knew what.
She looked at me again with her great beautiful eyes like a wondering child.
'Is your brother here too?'
'No, Miss Falkland,' I said. 'They've never caught Jim yet, and, what's more, I don't think they will. He jumped on a bare-backed horse without saddle or bridle, and got clear.'
She looked as if she was going to smile, but she didn't. I saw her eyes sparkle, though, and she said softly—
'Poor Jim! so he got away; I am glad of that. What a wonderful rider he was! But I suppose he will be caught some day. Oh, I do so wish I could say anything that would make you repent of what you have done, and try and do better by and by. Papa says you have a long life before you most likely, and might do so much with it yet. You will try, for my sake; won't you now?'
'I'll do what I can, miss,' I said; 'and if I ever see Jim again I'll tell him of your kindness.'
'Thank you, and good-bye,' she said, and she held out her hand again and took mine. I walked away, but I couldn't help holding my head higher, and feeling a different man, somehow.