Come, Sweet, come!" He sought her elusive fingers and tried to
draw her to him with a tenderness she could hardly withstand; but she
would not unbend, drawing from him, sinking further into the corner.
"And did Sir Julian know of this ruse of thine?" she asked, haughtily.
"Janet, methinks the maid speaks with thee!"
"What is it, Lambkin? I was not listening."
"I will wait until the storm ceases, perhaps thou wilt find thy
hearing by then." There was a long silence within the coach. The tears
of Mistress Penwick were dried and she sat sullen, deliberately trying
to hate Lord Cedric. There came a sudden burst of thunder that turned
the tide of her thoughts from him to Sir Julian, who rode by her
window constantly. At every flash of lightning she saw his spurs
glisten, saw the foam fly from the bits of his horse's bridle. He rode
there in the storm, heedless of all but her safety and comfort, he
that had wounds on his body that spake of great deeds of nobleness and
valour! Why should he care for her so? Like a flood he swept into
her heart, and she accepted his presence with gladness--shutting out
Cedric as well as she was able.
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