"Yes. I am going for a gallop. That's my way of working off my excitement."
"You don't seem as if you were excited. You are quite pale and cold and resolute. It is only your eyes that have a wild look."
"They look wild, do they? They ought not to look wild when they are fixed on you." They were fixed on her now searchingly. "Go back to bed, Miss Valliant. Nothing will disturb you. You may sleep as soundly and peacefully as a child."
"I am frightened. I was going to find my sister's room," she said falteringly. "I don't like being here alone—so far from everyone."
"You should not be frightened. No one will hurt you. What frightens you?" he said.
"I don't know. It's very stupid, I suppose. Things seem odd and eerie—it's so odd my standing here talking to you at this hour."
"There's nothing so odd in that. Go back to bed. Don't wake up your sister. I'm sorry that I told you about my wild mood. The truth is that I come of a hot-headed race. I love adventure—violent exercise—all sorts of things that stir one's blood, and make life worth living. I love solitude, and for weeks I have been living in a crowd and putting a curb on myself"
"But there is Mr. Trant. You will not be alone."
"Oh, Trant understands me, and lets me have my fling. To-morrow I shall be as meek as a lamb, and you won't recognize the spurred and booted desperado of to-night." He laughed as he spoke and made a movement with his arms which caused his cloak to fall back. In the moonlight Elsie saw the gleam of something at his waist, and realized that it was the shining handle of a pistol.
"You look like a desperado. Why do you carry that pistol."
"Oh, that—I had forgotten. Moonlight may be about, you know. It is as well to be armed when one scours the country at full moon."
