"Rose Macleod!" she exclaimed, for Black Bess was still far in the
rear, and she imagined her friend unaccompanied, "and on that
desperately dangerous little Flip!"
"The very same," responded Rose saucily, "but I don't know how long I
may remain on him. We want you to join us in a glorious old gallop."
"Good morning, Mademoiselle," exclaimed Edward, reining in his black
steed. "I hope Madame DeBerczy is better than usual, as I have some
thoughts of leaving my wild sister with her. She's every bit as
unmanageable as Flip."
"Leave me, indeed," retorted Rose, "as though I could trust you alone
in the woods--with a pretty girl."
The last words were inaudible, save to Helene, between whom and Rose
there passed a subtle glance which gave Edward a vague alarm. Could it
be that Helene had received intelligence of his encounter with Wanda?
No, it was clearly impossible. There was nothing of mocking in her
look--nothing but the pretty consciousness of a girl who could not
forget that her shoulders and arms were gleaming beneath the mist of a
muslin altogether too thin, and a weight of loosened braids altogether
too thick, to be proper subjects for a young man's contemplation.
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