the radiant October
light; then she sighed: "What a good day for a gallop!"
Amherst felt a momentary chill, but the naturalness of the exclamation
disarmed him, and the words called up thrilling memories of his own
college days, when he had ridden his grandfather's horses in the famous
hunting valley not a hundred miles from Hanaford.
Bessy met his smile with a glow of understanding. "You like riding too,
I'm sure?"
"I used to; but I haven't been in the saddle for years. Factory managers
don't keep hunters," he said laughing.
Her murmur of embarrassment showed that she took this as an apologetic
allusion to his reduced condition, and in his haste to correct this
impression he added: "If I regretted anything in my other life, it would
certainly be a gallop on a day like this; but I chose my trade
deliberately, and I've never been sorry for my choice."
He had hardly spoken when he felt the inappropriateness of this avowal;
but her prompt response showed him, a moment later, that it was, after
all, the straightest way to his end.
"You find the work interesting? I'm sure it must be. You'll think me
very ignorant--my husband and I came here so seldom...I feel as if I
ought to know so much more about it," she explained.
At last the note for which he waited had been struck. "Won't you try
to--now you're here? There's so much worth knowing," he broke out
impetuously.
Mrs. Westmore coloured, but rather with surprise than displeasure. "I'm
very stupid--I've no head for business--but I will try to," she said.
"It's not business that I mean; it's the personal relation--just the
thing the business point of view leaves out. Financially, I don't
suppose your mills could be better run; but there are over seven hundred
women working in them, and there's so much to be done, just for them and
their children."
He caught a faint hint of withdrawal in her tone. "I have always
understood that Mr. Truscomb did everything----"
Amherst flushed; but he was beyond caring for the personal rebuff. "Do
you leave it to your little girl's nurses to do everything for her?" he
asked.
Her surprise seemed about to verge on annoyance: he saw the preliminary
ruffling of the woman who is put to the trouble of defending her
dignity. "Really, I don't see--" she began with distant politeness; then
her face changed and melted, and again her blood spoke for her before
her lips.
"I am glad you told me that, Mr. Amherst. Of course I wa
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