The Real Charlotte. 373 



he said, and withdrawing her hand from his^ she began 

 hurriedly to button on her gloves. 



Christopher did not wait for further dismissal, but when 

 his hand was on the door, her old self suddenly woke. 



" Look at me letting you go away without telling you a 

 bit how grateful I am to you ! " she said, with a lift of her 

 tear-disfigured eyes that was like a changeling of the look 

 he used to know ; '' but don't you remember what Mrs. 

 Baker said about me, that 'you couldn't expect any 

 manners from a Dublin Jackeen.' ? " 



She laughed weakly, and Christopher, stammering more 

 than ever in an attempt to say that there was nothing to be 

 grateful for, got himself out of the room. 



After he had gone, Francie gave herself no time to think. 

 Everything was reeling round her as she went out on to the 

 steps, and even Michael the groom thought to himself that 

 if he hadn't the trap to wash, he'd put the saddle on the 

 chestnut and folly the misthress, she had that thrimulous 

 way with her when he put the reins into her hands, and 

 only for it was the mare she was riding he wouldn't see her 

 go out by herself. 



It was the first of June, and the gaiety of the spring was 

 nearly gone. The flowers had fallen from the hawthorn, 

 the bluebells and primroses were vanishing as quietly as 

 they came, the meadows were already swarthy, and the 

 breaths of air that sent pale shimmers across them, were full 

 of the unspeakable fragrance of the ripening grass. Under 

 the trees, near Rosemount, the shadowing greenness had 

 saturated the daylight with its gloom, but out among the 

 open pastures and meadows the large grey sky seemed 

 almost bright, and, in the rich sobriety of tone, the red 

 cattle were brilliant spots of colour. 



The black mare and her rider were now on thoroughly 

 confidential terms, and, so humiliatingly interwoven are soul 

 and body, as the exercise quickened the blood in her 

 veins, Francie's incorrigible youth rose up, and while it 

 brightened her eyes and drove colour to her cheeks, it 

 whispered that somehow or other happiness might come to 

 her. She rode fast till she reached the turn to Gurthna- 

 muckla, and there, mindful of her husband's injunctions 

 that she was not to ride up to the house, but to wait for him 

 on the road, she relapsed into a walk. 



