Effie did not take this view of matters. To her he professed himself the most devoted of knights. She fully believed that he enjoyed riding beside her more than anything in the world, and he certainly seemed to profess as much. But when off and away with Sheila, he would give her a laughing look, and say—
“There, now we can enjoy ourselves. Aren’t we good to be so patient over our task? But it’s worth it, for what we get afterwards. Don’t you find it so too, little cousin?”
And then Sheila would feel guilty and uncomfortable, and ask herself if she were being hypocritical. But surely Cyril could not be that, and she quickly drove away the unwelcome misgiving.
Once rather a strange thing happened whilst they were riding together. A man on horseback suddenly joined them—rather as though he were waiting for them. She thought Cyril changed colour and looked angry; and he said to her at once—
“Ride on, Sheila. I will join you almost at once. I have a little business to talk over with this gentleman.”
Sheila did as she was bid. She rode ahead; but she heard the voices of the men behind in argument, and what sounded rather like disagreement. At least, the other man seemed angry. Sometimes he spoke quite loud and roughly, and once Sheila heard him say—
“Is that the heiress you are riding with, then?” But she could not hear Cyril’s reply; and when he came back to her, his face was pale and very much clouded over.
“Is anything the matter, Cyril?” she asked. But he tried to laugh as he answered in an off-hand way—
“Oh, we all have our little worries, Sheila! It’s nothing much! It’s nothing to bother over! I’ve squared the fellow for the present. He won’t trouble us again; and don’t you say anything about this to anybody! It’s nothing to anybody but myself!”
(To be continued.)