“And where will we go?” she asked, as they rode out of the gate.
“We will go,” returned Sir Harry, with concentrated venom, “straight to the sandhills, and let this uneasy jade have her fill of dancing and prancing.”
“Ah, that will be splendid!” cried Eveleen, forgetting tact, and instantly reminded of it by the malevolent glance bent upon her.
“Yes, we shall have a splendid ride, and my lovely companion and my interesting aide will congratulate themselves on carrying out their purpose of seeing the old man look a fool. That is correct behaviour nowadays, I understand.”
So vehemently did he hiss out the fashionable catchwords which he hated, that Eveleen was more taken aback than she had ever been in her life. But she was not the woman to suffer meekly at Sir Harry’s hands any more than at Richard’s. Withdrawing her gaze primly to her horse’s ears, she remained stonily silent, taking no notice of her companion. In this wise they rode through the part of the Cantonments which lay between Government House and the desert, and the ladies they met—after observing with disapproval that there was that Mrs Ambrose riding with the General again—remarked with unction that it looked as though Sir Henry was finding out at last what sort of temper Mrs Ambrose possessed. As for Eveleen, she suspected irony in Richard’s parting injunction—in which she probably did him injustice.
Possibly the air and exercise mollified Sir Harry’s chafed spirit, or perhaps he realised that he had been rude, for instead of calling for a gallop as soon as they were on the sand, he drew rein and said, in a voice half surly, half apologetic—
“Not very much to say for yourself to-night—eh, ma’am?”
Eveleen turned innocent eyes upon him. “Sure I’m afraid to talk, Sir Harry. I’m in a shocking bad temper this evening, and I’d maybe say something I oughtn’t.”
“Meaning that I’m in a shocking bad temper, I suppose? My apologies, ma’am—my most humble apologies. Not that I ever do lose my temper—you’re wrong there.” Eveleen wished she had eyes in the back of her head, to see Brian’s face when he heard this. “I’m apt to be betrayed into using strong language occasionally—very wrong, I know, and I try to break myself of the habit,—but I assure you I have the sweetest temper in the world. All we Lennoxes have; we got it from our parents before us.”
“But oughtn’t a person lose their temper sometimes?” enquired Eveleen meekly. “When there’s good cause for it, I mean?”