She was silent for a while, leaning on the table, tracing with her finger the outline of her dull reflection in the shining surface. Presently she looked up gaily, a smile breaking in her eyes.
"All that I said is false. I desire to live, Carus. I am not unhappy. Pray you, begin your writing!"
I drew the paper to me, dipped a quill full of ink from the musty horn, rested my elbow, pen lifted, and began, dating the letter from the Blue Fox, and addressing it most respectfully to Sir Peter and Lady Coleville.
First I spoke of the horses we had taken, and would have promised payment by draft enclosed, but that Elsin, looking over my shoulder, stayed my pen.
"Did you not see me leave a pile of guineas?" she demanded. "That was to pay for our stable theft!"
"But not for the horse I took?"
"Certainly, for your horse, too."
"But you could not know that I was to ride saddle to the Coq d'Or!" I insisted.
"No, but I saddled two horses," she replied, delighted at my wonder, "two horses, monsieur, one of which stood ready in the stalls of the Coq d'Or! So when you came a-horseback, it was not necessary to use the spare mount I had led there at a gallop. Now do you see, Mr. Renault? All this I did for you, inspired by--foresight, which you lack!"
"I see that you are as wise and witty as you are beautiful!" I exclaimed warmly, and caught her fingers to kiss them, but she would have none of my caress, urging me to write further, and make suitable excuse for what had happened.
"It is not best to confess that we are still unwedded," I said, perplexed.
"No. They suppose we are; let be as it is," she answered. "And you shall not say that you were a spy, either, for that must only pain Sir Peter and his lady. They will never believe Walter Butler, for they think I fled with you because I could not endure him. And--perhaps I did," she added; and that strange smile colored her eyes to deepest azure.
"Then what remains to say?" I asked, regarding her thoughtfully.
"Say we are happy, Carus."
"Are you?"
"Truly I am, spite of all I complain of. Write it!"
I wrote that we were happy; and, as I traced the words, a curious thrill set my pen shaking.
"And that we love--them."
I wrote it slowly, half-minded to write "one another" instead of "them." Never had I been so near to love.
"And--and--let me see," she mused, finger on lip--"I think it not too impudent to ask their blessing. It may happen, you know, though Destiny fight against it; and if it does, why there we have their blessing all ready!"