And with a stiff little bow she laid her hand on the gate which gave entrance to the field-path; the same path that led down through the coppice to the back of the Low Wood inn. She passed through.
He hesitated an instant, then he also turned in at the gate. And as she halted, eyeing him in displeasure—
“I really cannot let you stray from the high-road alone,” he said. “You will pardon me, I am sure, if I seem intrusive. But it is not safe. I have seen enough,” with a smirk, “to know that—that beauty unattended goes in danger amid these lovely”—he waved his hand in kindly patronage of the lake—“these lovely, but wild surroundings.”
“You mean,” she answered, with a dangerous light in her eyes, “that you will force your company on me, sir? Whether I will or no?”
“Not force, no! No! No! But I must, I can only do as I am ordered. I should not presume of myself,” he continued, with a touch of real humility—“even to offer my company. I should not look so high. I should think such an honour above me. But I was led to believe——”
“By Captain Clyne?”
“Yes, that—that, in fact, you were willing to make what amends you could for the injury done to him. And that, if only for that reason, I might expect a more favourable reception at your hands.”
“But why, sir?—why?” she cried, cut to the quick. To suffer this man, this stranger, to talk to her of making amends!” What good will it do to Captain Clyne if I receive you ever so favourably?”
He looked at her humbly, with appeal in his eyes.
“If you would deign to wait,” he said, and he wiped his forehead, “I think I could make that more clear to you afterwards.”