"And what said he of our English roses?" she asked herself, with some faint color coming into her face at the mere thought of it.
But then she forcibly dismissed these recollections, feeling that that was due to her own modesty, and busied herself with her blossoms and sprays; and presently, as she set out in good earnest for the town, she strove to convince herself that there was nothing more serious in her brain than the tune of "Green-sleeves:"
"Green-sleeves, now farewell, adieu;
God I pray to prosper thee;
For I am still thy lover true—
Come once again and love me!"
CHAPTER XVII.
WILD WORDS.
Her light-heartedness did not last long. In the wide clear landscape a human figure suddenly appeared, and the briefest turn of her head showed her that Tom Quiney was rapidly coming toward her across the fields. For a second her heart stood still. Had he been riding home from Ludington? Or from Bidford? Was it possible that he had come over Bardon Hill, and from that height espied the two down by the river? She could not even tell whether that was possible, or what he had done with his horse, or why he had not interfered sooner, if he was bent on interfering. But she had an alarmed impression that this rapid approach of his boded trouble, and she had not long to wait before that fear was confirmed.
"Judith, who is that man?" he demanded, with a fury that was but half held in.
She turned and faced him.
"I knew not," she said, coldly and slowly, "that we were on a speaking platform."