One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

One of Our Conquerors
Colney remarked: ‘I was a poet—for once.’
A neat-legged Parisianly-booted lady, having the sea,
winds very enterprising with her dark wavy, locks and jacket
and skirts, gave a cry of pleasure and—a silvery ‘You dear!’
at sight of Nesta; then at sight of one of us, moderated her
tone to a propriety equalling the most conventional. ‘We
ride to-day?’
‘I shall be one,’ said Nesta.
‘It would not be the commonest pleasure to me, if you
were absent.’
‘Till eleven, then!’
‘After my morning letter to Ned.’
She sprinkled silvery sound on that name or on the adieu,
blushed, blinked, frowned, sweetened her lip-lines, bit at the
underone, and passed in a discomposure.
‘The lady?’ Colney asked.
‘She is—I meet her in the troop conducted by the ridingmaster:
Mrs. Marsett.’
‘And who is Ned?’
‘It is her husband, to whom she writes every morning. He
is a captain in the army, or was. He is in Norway, fishing.’
‘Then the probability is, that the English officer continues
his military studies.’
‘Do you not think her handsome, Mr. Durance?’
‘Ned may boast of his possession, when he has trimmed it
and toned it a little.!
‘She is different, if you are alone with her.’
‘It is not unusual,’ said Colney.
At eleven o’clock he was in London, and Nesta rode beside
Mrs. Marsett amid the troop.
A South-easterly wind blew the waters to shifty goldleaf
prints of brilliance under the sun.
‘I took a liberty this morning, I called you “Dear” this
morning,’ the lady said. ‘It’s what I feel, only I have no right
to blurt out everything I feel, and I was ashamed. I am sure
I must have appeared ridiculous. I got quite nervous.’
‘You would not be ridiculous to me.’
‘I remember I spoke of Ned!
‘You have spoken of him before.’
‘Oh! I know: to you alone. I should like to pluck out my
heart and pitch it on the waves, to see whether it would sink
or swim. That’s a funny idea, isn’t it! I tell you everything
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