For he had thought much of her since they had parted, and much of the fact that she was John Audley’s heir. Her beauty, her spirit, her youth, had caught his fancy. He had looked forward to renewing his acquaintance with her, and he was in no mood, now he saw her, to spoil their meeting by a quarrel. He thought Colet, whose doings had been reported to him, a troublesome, pestilent fellow, and he was not sorry that he had got his head broken. But he need not tell her that. Circumstances had favored him in bringing them together and giving him the beau rôle, and he was not going to cross his luck.
So, “Fire is an excellent thing of course,” he continued with an air of moderation, “but, believe me, it’s not safe amid young trees in a wind. Whatever your views, to express them in all companies may be honest, but is not wise. I have no doubt that a parson is tried. He sees the trouble. He is not always the best judge of the remedy. However, enough of that. We shall agree at least in this, that our meetings are opportune?”
“Most opportune,” Mary answered. “And from my point of view very fortunate!”
“There really is a sort of fate in it. What but fate could have brought about our meeting at the Hôtel Lambert? What but fate could have drawn us to the same spot on the Chase to-night?”
There was a tone in his voice that brought the blood to her cheek and warned her to keep to the surface of things. “The chance that men call fate,” she answered lightly.
“Or the fate that fools call chance,” he urged, half in jest, half in earnest. “We have met by chance once, and once again—with results! The third time—what will the third time bring? I wonder.”
“Not a fright like this, I hope!” Mary answered, remaining cheerfully matter of fact. “Or if it does,” with a flash of laughter, “I trust that the next time you will come up a few moments earlier!”
“Ungrateful!”
“I?” she replied. “But it was Etruria who was in danger!”
For the peril had left her with a sense of exhilaration, of lightness, of ease. She was pleased to feel that she could hold her own with him, relieved that she was not afraid of him. And she was glad—she was certainly glad—to see him again. If he were inclined to make the most of his advantage, well, a little gallantry was quite in the picture; she was not deceived, and she was not offended. While he on his side, as they walked over the moor, thought of her as a clever little witch who knew her value and could keep her head; and he liked her none the less for it.