appear on the streets. This would greatly intensify my danger, for, at
any moment, I might encounter some one who knew me, who might denounce me
to the authorities.

That this was the exact truth of the situation could not be denied, yet,
now, every reckless impulse of my disposition urged me to remain; the
invitation of those laughing blue eyes, the challenge I read in the
lady's fair face, the unsolved mystery of her identity, all combined in a
temptation I found it impossible to resist. As I rode slowly northward,
out of the denser crowd into the almost deserted streets, the shades of
evening already closing about me, the memory of the girl I had
encountered so strangely, and parted with so suddenly, became more and
more alluring, more and more vivid. My thoughts dwelt upon the arch face,
the red lips, smiling to reveal the white teeth, the flushing cheeks, the
mass of soft brown hair revealed beneath the turban, the mocking laughter
in the depths of the blue eyes, and the straight, lithe figure, as she
moved swiftly away to rejoin her friends. Who was she, this lady of the
Blended Rose? this girl with the dignity of rank, and the carelessness of
youth? I must know the answer; it was not in young blood to run away.
Certain facts regarding her were at least clear already--she must be the
daughter of a loyalist, or else related to some of the English officers;
her very presence proved this, while her selection as one of the ladies
of honor, was evidence of high standing socially. And she had dared me,
challenged me with her eyes, to remain, and learn more. There was no
promise, no word spoken I could construe into a pledge, and yet there was
invitation, a suggestion, vague but comprehended, which youth could not
easily ignore. My veins throbbed with anticipation--already was my arm
about the slender waist, my eyes looking into her own. For a dance with
her, a possible understanding, I was willing to venture life itself.