follow, as before."

She scarcely changed her posture as I spurred forward, riding now so
close to her side that I could feel the flap of her saddle rise and
fall against my knee. Whatever of evil she may have thought of us, I
felt that she was sorry enough now for her hasty action, and I forgave
the pain that yet stung me, and longed, without well knowing how, to
tell her so.




CHAPTER V

A DISASTER ON THE ROAD


To me she was merely a woman whom it had become my duty to protect, and
whatever of chivalrous feeling I may have held toward her was based
upon nothing deeper than this knowledge. She had come to us undesired
and in darkness, her form enveloped in a cavalry cloak, her face
shrouded by the night. As to whether she was young or old I had scarce
means of knowing, saving only that the tone of her voice and the
graceful manner of her riding made me confident that she had not lost
the agility of youth. But beyond this vague impression (it was little
more), and a fleeting gleam of the starlight in her eyes as she faced
me in anger, I was as totally unaware of how she really looked as
though we had never met. Her very name was unknown to me. Who was this
Major Brennan? Was he father, brother, or husband? and was her name
Brennan also? For some reason this last possibility was repugnant to