s becoming fast too much
for Rose, as it is too much for most. For none knew better than the
Spaniard how much more fond women are, by the very law of their sex,
of worshipping than of being worshipped, and of obeying than of being
obeyed; how their coyness, often their scorn, is but a mask to hide
their consciousness of weakness; and a mask, too, of which they
themselves will often be the first to tire.

And Rose was utterly tired of that same mask as she sat at table at
Annery that day; and Don Guzman saw it in her uneasy and downcast looks,
and thinking (conceited coxcomb) that she must be by now sufficiently
punished, stole a glance at her now and then, and was not abashed when
he saw that she dropped her eyes when they met his, because he saw her
silence and abstraction increase, and something like a blush steal into
her cheeks. So he pretended to be as much downcast and abstracted as she
was, and went on with his glances, till he once found her, poor thing,
looking at him to see if he was looking at her; and then he knew his
prey was safe, and asked her, with his eyes, "Do you forgive me?" and
saw her stop dead in her talk to her next neighbor, and falter, and drop
her eyes, and raise them again after a minute in search of his, that
he might repeat the pleasant question. And then what could she do but
answer with all her face and every bend of her pretty neck, "And do you
forgive me in turn?"

Whereon Don Guzman broke out jubilant, like nightingale on bough, with
story, and jest, and repartee; and became forthwith the soul of the
whole company, and the most charming of all cavaliers. And poor Rose
knew that she was the cause of his sudden change of mood, and blamed
herself for what she had done, and shuddered and blushed at her own
delight, and longed that the feast was over, that she might hurry home
and hide herself alone with sweet fancies about a love the reality of
which she felt she dared not face.

It was a beautiful sight, the great terrace at Annery that afternoon;
with the smart dames in their gaudy dresses parading up and down in twos
and threes before the stately house; or looking down upon the park, with
the old oaks, and the deer, and the broad land-locked river spread out
like a lake beneath, all bright in the glare of the midsummer sun; or
listening obsequiously to the two great ladies who did the honors, Mrs.
St. Leger the hostess, and her sister-in-law, fair Lady Grenville. All
chatted, and la