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Lady John perceived that Jean had quietly slipped away from the others, and was standing behind her. If Mrs. Heriot had not been too absorbed in Dick Farnborough and Hermione she would have had a moment's pleasure in her handiwork that half-shamed scrutiny in Jean Dunbarton's face.
The Sagamore sat up in his blanket, wearing that half-irritated, half-shamed expression always to be seen on an Indian's countenance when cannon are fired. An Indian has no stomach for artillery, and hates sight and sound of the metal monsters. For a few moments I bantered him sleepily, then dropped back into my blanket. What cared I for their insolent morning gun! I snapped my fingers at it.
He showed no signs of bewilderment when such events as the Indian Mutiny or the French Revolution were mentioned, and the girl could not be sure whether he listened without comprehending, for the mere pleasure of hearing her voice and knowing her companionship, or whether some feeling of half-shamed reticence prevented his acknowledging that he had never heard of these things before.
"Mon coeur," whispered the lass, and her voice was low and her face half-shamed, but very brave. "We would have so great a son," said she, and hung her head low after one long look at the man. At the jerk on the rein, the horses stopped. "You are the bravest lass I will ever meet," said Bryde, and there was a fire of admiration in his eyes, and a ring in his voice.
"You killed it in the nick of time," he said, in a voice that still spoke of the ground, but with a note of half-shamed gratitude. "I want to thank you," he added. "You were brave. It would have turned on you if you had missed. I know them. I've killed five." He spoke very slowly, huskily. "Well, you are safe that is the chief thing," she rejoined, making as though to depart.
He did not; but led the reluctant, vanquished, defiant, half-angry, half-shamed lover forward, and gave his darling into the arms that seemed again almost unwilling, so strong was the old opposing determination that lay bound by love's bonds.
Fanny looked mysteriously at her mother-in-law with sudden confidence. "Look here," she said. "What?" The two women looked at each other, and neither said a word, but the meaning of one flashed to the other like telegraphy. "Do you s'pose that's it?" said Mrs. Zelotes, her old face relaxing into half-shamed, half-pleased smiles. "Yes, I do," said Fanny, emphatically. "You do?"
A girl in the merry party speeding along at the foot of the hill glanced around just then; she turned again, blushing hotly, and touched a girl near her, who also glanced around. Then their two blushing faces confronted each other with significant half-shamed smiles of innocent young girlhood. They locked arms, and whispered as they went on. "Did you see?" "Yes." "His head?" "Yes." "Her arms?"
She slid her long brown hand across the table and grasped Jack's. He returned the pressure quickly and fraternally, even to that half-shamed, half-hurried evasion of emotion peculiar to all brothers. This was also a new sensation; but he liked it. "You are too too good, Mr. Hamlin," she said quietly. "Yes," said Jack cheerfully, "that's what's the matter with me.
Adding: "I've frightened you, I suppose?" She bent her head. "Well" sulkily "it was your own fault. You roused the wild beast in me." Then, with a queer, half-shamed laugh, he added: "There's Spanish blood in the Trenbys, you know as there is in many of the Cornish folk." Nan supposed this avowal was intended as an apology, or at least as an explanation of sorts.
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