And last evening Lord Rosmore had arrived, had bowed
low over her hand and whispered a compliment. His looks, his attitude,
had occasioned comment, for my Lord Rosmore seldom sought, he was so
consistently sought after. Had not King Charles once called him the
handsomest attraction of his acquaintance, and laughingly turned to warn
a bevy of beauties of the danger of running after so well favoured a
cavalier?
"It is all because I am a woman," said Barbara, with a little sigh. "I
suppose I ought to be happy, proud, pleased; and yet--"
She looked across the woods, far away into the blue distance where fancy
well might have its kingdom, and her thoughts became a day-dream. That
she was a woman, that the horizon of her mind had widened, that in
touching the great world she had understood things which before were a
sealed book to her, did not altogether account for the change. In her
day-dream she was conscious of a pair of grey eyes which seemed to look
into her soul; conscious of a voice--kindly, yet with something stern in
it--saying in her ear: "Can I be of service?" and again, "This is no
place for a woman."
It was strange that she should remember so vividly; strange, too, that
he had gone from her so quickly.
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