"You are well?" he continued.

"Yes."

"I need not have asked." His expression conveyed more--so much more, she bit her lip impatiently. "How do you like the new part?"

"It is hard to tell yet," she answered evasively.

"You would do justice to any role, but I prefer you in a historical or romantic play, with the picturesque old costumes. If it were in my domains, you should appear in those dramas, if I had to hang every justice of the peace in the district."

Her only response was a restless movement and he hastened to add: "I fear, however, I am detaining you."

He drew aside with such deference to permit her to pa.s.s that her conscience smote her and she was half-minded to turn and leave him more graciously, but this impulse was succeeded by another feeling, ill-defined, the prevailing second thought. Had she looked, she would have seen that her fluttering shawl touched his hand and he quickly raised it to his lips, releasing it immediately. As it was, she moved on, unaware of the gesture. The orchestra, or rather string quartet, had ceased; Hans, a host in himself, a mountain of melody, bowed his acknowledgments; the footlights glared, the din of voices subsiding; and the curtain rose.

Remaining in the background, the land baron watched the young girl approach the entrance to the stage, where she stood, intent, one hand resting against the scenery, her dress upheld with the other; the glimmer from the footlights, reflected through the opening, touching her face; suddenly, with a graceful movement, she vanished, and her laughing voice seemed to come from afar.

Was it for this he had made his hasty journey? To be treated with indifference by a wandering player; he, the patroon, the unsuccessful suitor of a stroller! She, who appeared in taverns, in barns, perhaps, was as cold and proud as any fine lady, untroubled about the morrow, and, as he weighed this phase of the matter, the land baron knew not whether he loved her most for her beauty or hated her for the slight she put upon him. But love or hate, it was all one, and he told himself he would see the adventure to the end.

"How do you do, Mr. Mauville?" said a gay but hushed voice, interrupting his ruminations, and Susan, in a short skirt and bright stockings, greeted him.

"The better for seeing you, Mistress Susan." Nonchalantly surveying her from head to foot.

She bore his glance with the a.s.surance of a pretty woman who knows she is looking her best.

"Pooh!" Curtesying disdainfully. "I don't believe you! You came to see some one else. Well"--lightly--"she is already engrossed."

"Really?" said the land baron.

"Yes. You understand? He follows her with his every glance," she added roguishly. Susan was never averse to straining the truth a little when it served her purpose.

"I should infer he was following her with more than his eyes,"

retorted the master of the manor dryly.

Susan tapped the stage viciously with a little foot. "She's a lovely girl," she continued, drawing cabalistic figures with the provoking slipper.

"You are piqued?" he said, watching her skeptically.

"Not at all." Quickly, startled by his blunt accusation.

"Not a little jealous?" he persisted playfully.

"Jealous?" Then with a frown, hesitatingly: "Well, she is given prominence in the plays and--"

"--You would not be subordinated, if she were not in the company?

Apart from this, you are fond of her?"

The foot ceased its tracing and rested firmly on the floor.

"I hate her!" snapped Susan, angered by this baiting. No sooner had she spoken than she regretted her outburst. "How you draw one out! I was only joking--though she does have the best parts and we take what we can get!"

"But she's a lovely girl!" concluded the land baron. Susan's eyes flashed angrily.

"How clever of you! You twist and turn one's words about and give them a different meaning from what was intended. If I wanted to catch you up--"

"A truce!" he exclaimed. "Let us take each other seriously, hereafter.

Is it agreed?" She nodded. "Well, seriously, you can help me and help yourself."

"How?" doubtfully.

"Why not be allies?"

"What for?"

"Mutual service."

"Oh!" dubiously.

"A woman's 'yes'!"

"No," with affirmative answer in her eyes.

He believed the latter.

"We will seal the compact then."

And he bent over and saluted Mistress Susan on the lips. She became as rosy as the flowers she carried and tapped him playfully with them.

"For shame! La! What must you think of me?"

"That you are an angel."

"How lovely! But I must go."

"May I see you after the play?"

"Yes."

"Do not fail me, or the soldier will not transfer his affections to you!"

"If he dared!" And she shook her head defiantly as she tripped away.

"Little fool!" murmured Mauville, his lips curling scornfully. "The one is a pastime; the other"--he paused and caught his breath--"a pa.s.sion!"

But he kept his appointment with Susan, escorting her to the hotel, where he bade her good-night with a lingering pressure of the hand, and--ordered his equipage to the door!

"Hadn't you better wait until morning?" asked the surprised landlord, when the young patroon announced his intention of taking an immediate departure. "There are the barn-burners and--traveling at night--"

"Have they turned footpads?" was the light reply. "Can't I drive through my own lands? Let me see one of their thieving faces--" And he made a significant gesture. "Not ride at night! These Jacobins shall not prevent me."

Barring the possible danger from the lease-holders who were undoubtedly ripe for any mischief, the journey did not promise such discomfiture as might have been expected, the coach being especially constructed for night traveling. On such occasions, between the seats the s.p.a.ce was filled by a large cushion, adapted to the purpose, which in this way converted the interior of the vehicle into a sleeping-room of limited dimensions. With pillows to neutralize the jarring, the land baron stretched himself indolently upon his couch, and gazed through the window at the crystalline lights of the heavens, while thoughts of lease-holders and barn-burners faded into thin air.