And dar’st not look a woman in the face?”
Certain it is, that, after having duly ascertained that my mare and baggage had passed through the hands of the Philistines uninjured, I returned gallantly to the drawing-room. There I behaved as a soldier of promise should do; ending by proposing a walk to the fair hostess, which invitation on her part was gracefully accepted.
The day had improved considerably; and we strolled arm-in-arm to the brow of a small hill, which, rising boldly above the copse that encircled it, commanded a splendid view of a spacious lake, with woodlands in the foreground and mountains in the distance. This was a favourite spot, and frequently, as my companion told me, visited by herself and Mr. Hartley. We placed ourselves on a rustic bench under the shading of a fine old elm; and, while I could not but admire the romantic scenery that everywhere met the eye, I marvelled that one who had mingled in the world, and had ample means to do so—as all about his domicile inferred—should seclude the young beauty beside me in a wilderness, fitted for men only of lawless habits and broken fortunes.
“Do you not, at times, find this place solitary, Miss Hartley?” I asked, in a careless tone.
“It is retired, certainly; but I have been accustomed from my childhood to retirement,” she replied.
“Yes, but one who has been in the world—”
“Would, no doubt, find this mansion disagreeable. I have been secluded from infancy.”
“Indeed!”
“For fifteen years I never set my foot beyond the convent garden.”
“Were you intended for a religieuse?”