48 The Real Charlotte. 



" I'll leave you to find that out for yourself. I'll engage 

 it won't be long before you know all about them. You've 

 made a good start already." 



"Oh, very well," replied Francie, letting fall both the 

 reins in order to settle her hat ; '^ some day you'll be asking 

 me something, and I won't tell you, and then you'll be 

 sorry." 



" Some day you'll be breaking your neck, and then youHl 

 be sorry," retorted Lambert, taking up the fallen reins. 



They rode out of the gate of Gurthnamuckla in silence, 

 and after a mile of trotting, which was to Francie a period 

 of mingled pain and anxiety, the horses slackened of their 

 own accord, and began to pick their way gingerly over the 

 smooth sheets of rock that marked the entry of the road into 

 the stony tract mentioned in the last chapter. Francie took 

 the opportunity for a propitiatory question. 



" What were you and the old woman talking about all 

 that time ? I thought you were never coming." 



" Business," said Lambert shortly ; then viciously, " if 

 any conversation with a woman can ever be called busi- 

 ness." 



" Oho ! then you couldn't get her to do what you 

 wanted!" laughed Francie; ''very good for you too! I 

 think you always get your own way." 



" Is that your opinion ? " said Lambert, turning his dark 

 eyes upon her ; " I'm sorry I can't agree with you." 



The fierce heat had gone out of the afternoon as they 

 passed along the lonely road, through the country of rocks 

 and hazel bushes ; the sun was sending low flashes into 

 their eyes from the bright mirror of the lake ; the goats that 

 hopped uncomfortably about in the enforced and detested 

 tete-a-teie caused by a wooden yoke across their necks, cast 

 blue shadows of many-legged absurdity on the warm slabs 

 of stone ; a carrion crow, swaying on the thin topmost 

 bough of a thorn-bush, a blot in the mellow afternoon sky, 

 was looking about him if haply he could see a wandering 

 kid whose eyes would serve him for his supper ; and a 

 couple of miles away, at Rosemount, Mrs. Lambert was 

 sending down to be kept hot what she and Charlotte had 

 left of the Sally Lunn. 



Francie was not sorry when she found herself again under 



