"We'll have no visitors tonight, at least. There'll be hours of time
for talk."
"Promise me, then. Tonight you'll open your heart?" Her mother gave a
queer sort of laugh.
"What little is left of it. Yes, yes, child, I promise. Now bring me
the tea and give me a moment's peace." Mary did as she asked.
Six
That same afternoon a single rider approached the steward's cottage,
in which now only Michael's mother remained. Hearing hoofbeats, she
went quickly to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains. Though
this woman had little left to lose, she was concerned almost in spite
of herself for the safety of her niece. And in her darkened frame of
mind, she could not help but fear the worst.
A British officer, seated on a majestic bay stallion, slowed his horse
to a loose trot and drew rein just beyond the porch. This in itself
did not seem such a threat. It could mean anything: some kind of
summons, a requisition for cavalry horses and supplies (which they did
not have), or simply a saddle-weary officer wanting a drink to soothe
his parched throat.
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