The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900)
“There is a mistake," she said; “the gentleman is misled by appearances. It is possible
that I may remind him of another Rachel whom he knew, but let him be assured that I
am quite another person."
Again she would have passed on but again he stopped her, drawing so near this time
that she shrank back lest he should touch her.
"I am not deceived,” he said in a low voice. "It may be that I know you better than you
know yourself."
He spoke so low that no one but Rachel heard the words. She threw him another scared
look, and then suddenly darted past him. In another moment, jesting and laughing, the
whole party had strolled on.
Simon stood as though rooted to the ground, oblivious of the curious looks and meaning
smiles of those who had been spectators of the little scene. By-and-bye, with a deep
sigh, he was preparing to move away, when his eyes suddenly met the watchful gaze of
other eyes which had been fixed on him for some moments eagerly and questioningly.
A lady, handsomely but very quietly dressed, had sat leaning back in the corner of one
of the rustic high-backed seats, or “settles," before alluded to, her face half screened by
her fringed parasol. As the royal party passed on she had lowered this, and was now
bending forward, earnestly considering the young yeoman.
[350]
Something familiar in her face, as well as the anxious, almost pleading query in her
gaze, arrested his attention. He paused, hesitated, but, as the lady apparently in
confusion turned away her head, he came to the conclusion that he had been mistaken in
supposing she wished to address him, and walked on, soon forgetting the little incident
in the overwhelming sense of his own misery.
Actuated merely by the desire to escape from this vapid throng, he bent his steps
towards the bottom of the Steine, and presently found himself near the Alcove, a small
summer-house, at that moment deserted. Throwing himself upon a bench he sat gazing
drearily seawards, endeavouring to collect his thoughts, and to fix upon some definite
plan of action. Rachel had publicly denied him —what result would he hope to gain
from the projected interview that evening? She had looked him full in the face, and