“Oh, I’m quite prepared for you to do that. Then I should have something definite to meet, I should understand your position. But that you, without any right to follow me about and persecute me, without any proof that I have ever done anything disgraceful or unlawful, should keep watch over my movements and spy upon my actions, should pay unexpected calls upon my friends and relations, and appear to be always at hand when anything unusual takes place in my family, I say it is infamous, intolerable. I won’t put up with it, and I insist that you shall put an end to this persecution. Now--promise.” “I refuse to promise,” said Gerard stubbornly. The answer, though she might have expected it, seemed to disconcert her. She appeared to have thought that her determination, her cold, proud manner, her lofty indignation, would have had the effect of reducing him to submission to her will. To find him stubborn still surprised and perplexed her. They had reached Lady Jennings’ house, and the cab stopped. Gerard got out. Then Miss Davison, instead of getting out immediately and sweeping past him haughtily into the house, as he was prepared for her to do, sat still a moment, and suddenly threw at him a glance in which he read a thousand things that in a moment altered the opinion of her which her words would have formed. Instead of looking fierce, indignant, cold, hard, angry, and disdainful, she involuntarily let him see in her beautiful dark eyes, just for one short moment, the look which belied all the rest, the look of womanly gratitude and satisfaction which told that, mysterious as was her conduct, persistently unreasonable as was her attitude, and incensed as she had appeared to be by his obstinacy, she was at heart touched and melted by his pertinacious loyalty. Gerard started forward, but before he could speak, Miss Davison, recollecting herself, sprang out of the cab, and ran up the steps to the house without a word or a look of farewell. Gerard watched her without daring to follow her, with his heart and brain on fire. The door opened quickly, and she disappeared into the house, and the footman came out to pay the cabman. But Gerard had already done that, and begun to walk away. He threw one glance up at the window of the dining-room as he went. The lights were lowered, and the blind was drawn up to let the cool night air in through the open window. And between the curtains, standing immovable, he saw the figure of Miss Davison, and knew that she was watching him, and wondered what she was thinking. Remembering that last look of hers, in which the soul of the woman, grateful for admiration, grateful for love, had seemed to shine out upon him, he could not help the belief that she was thinking--and thinking kindly--of him. CHAPTER X