Loved and Lost: A Deadly Secret

“How on earth did you get up there?” And the speaker put his glass in his eye, and coolly surveyed the dainty figure perched on one of the branches of the huge elm, under which he was standing. “That is the last place I expected to find you.”

“I suppose so,” she answered composedly; for Lady Gwendolyn was never flustered or ill at ease under the most trying circumstances. “The fact is, I have had an unpleasant adventure.”

“Indeed; I am very sorry. But hadn’t you better let me help you down before we talk it over; unless you like your quarters so well that you are inclined to stay there, and, in that case, I will join you.”

“Nonsense, Colonel Dacre!” but she laughed, too. “What would Mrs. Grundy say to such an extraordinary tête-à-tête?”

“She would say that it had the merit of novelty; and, considering how tired one is of everything that has happened, and how bored at the thought of prospective repetitions, I consider that any one who strikes out a new line for himself, and refuses to lag along in the old groove, deserves to be canonized.”

“Well, it is very nice when people will be a little original, certainly; but I am not sure that a woman dare get out of the old groove. Moreover, you men like pretty nonentities.”

“The deuce we do!” exclaimed Colonel Dacre. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody. One does not need telling things when one has eyes and ears. I have seen you dance as often as four times in one evening with Mrs. O’Hara.”