Ponsonby recoiled as if a flash of lightning had forked out of the cold, gray sky. “Good heavens! I did not mean to offend you. I declare solemnly I did not!”
But he had touched a vibrating chord unawares, and set every fibre in her heart thrilling and every pulse throbbing; and the disturbance was not to be laid by any words that he could utter. Franceline turned homewards, and they did not exchange a word until they reached The Lilies and Ponsonby was assisting her to alight.
“Say you forgive me!” he said, speaking very low and penitently.
She had already forgiven him but not herself.
“I do, and I am sorry for being so impetuous. Good-by!”
“And my mother may come and see you to-morrow?”
“No, no! It is no use; it is no use! I say again I wish you were my brother, Sir Ponsonby, but, as you care to remain my friend, never speak to me again of this.”
He pressed the hand she held out to him; the groom backed up to take the reins of her horse, and Ponsonby rode away with a thorn in his honest heart.
Miss Merrywig was within, chatting and laughing away with the count. Franceline was not in a mood to meet the garrulous old lady or anybody; so she went straight to her room, and only came down when the visitor was gone.