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14, 1863.] him he was on again and riding towards us, to get way for another attempt. I saw he was looking fiercely annoyed, and it occurred to me how cold the water would be this frosty morning, if, as was very likely, I should be even less fortunate than the Major. However, there was little time for such thoughts, for we were charging the brook, and, to say the truth, I was thinking more of whether Miss Keith’s horse would carry her across safely, and would gladly have had a ducking to save her from the effects of a false step.

“I have wonderful faith in Rover,” I said; “and will go just before you to encourage your horse, for I feel quite sure mine won’t refuse.”

“Very well,” she replied; “but I’m not a bit afraid.”

And we galloped on. If Rover had pulled up at the brink of the ditch, I should have been shot far over his head into the next field, but he seemed only to make an immense stride, and I had crossed the gap, hardly alighting on the other side before Miss Keith joined me. We were pleased with our success, and turning back saw half a dozen of the field already in difficulties at the ditch, and Anton savagely galloping round to a gateway, his horse having refused a second time.

There were not more than twenty before us now, and I was growing more excited and more confident every moment. The charming enthusiasm of my companion inspired me, and if I felt at the first hedge as if charging infantry, now the battle seemed won, and I intoxicated with triumph.

Unsporting reader! do not think I rave: it needs strong language to express the sensations of a gallop after foxhounds. I shall never more wonder that the universal topic of conversation in hunting districts is the last run, and I shall henceforth only pity the men whose shallow powers of utterance does not enable them to give fuller expression to their emotion.

Our horses laboured up the ascent evidently a little tired by their long and heavy gallop; about half-a-dozen determined riders passed us as we were approaching the wood, where Danvers, with Lady Caroline, and a group of about a score, were standing still, their jaded horses, with outstretched necks and legs, steaming in clouds. The hounds were howling in the wood, and we soon heard that the fox had been run to earth and they disappointed of their prey.

“Well done, Miss Keith; and well done, Templar,” said Mr. Danvers, as we rode up. “You found Rover a good nag, didn’t you?”

“Yes, it’s all his doing that I am here.”

“Well, we’ve had a glorious run, although we haven’t killed our fox; but what have you done with Anton, Lady Caroline?”

“Really, Mr. Danvers, I don’t know,” replied Lady Caroline. “I think he was very near putting himself into that ditch below us; but here he comes to answer for himself.”

And Anton rode up, looking very discomfited; Lady Caroline’s eyes welcoming him with a prettily malicious pleasure, as she pertly thanked him for his devoted attention throughout the run. Delapierre and Miss Morland were nowhere to be seen, and Miss Keith and I followed Lady Caroline and Anton on the way homewards. After riding for some time in silence, she said:

“I am so sorry you are going away to-morrow, Mr. Templar.”

“Thank you,” I replied; “my unwillingness to do so is greatly increased by your kind remark.”

“Well, why do you, then?”

“Because—”

“Because you are tired of our company, I suppose, and are already sighing for the pleasures of your London life.”

“Miss Keith, how can you do me such injustice? It is even cruel of you to suggest the thought of my solitary chambers while I am enjoying the sunshine of your company. But I suppose it is on principle that you do it, warning me against drinking too deeply of my present happiness.”

“Really, Mr. Templar, no one would suppose you had such pretty speeches left in you after that tremendous leap of yours, when, I hope you will forgive me for thinking that you rolled about like a Chinese doll.”

“You forget, Miss Keith, that the fox was before while you were behind me, or you would easily comprehend how at that moment, while Rover forced me forward, my inclination led me backward.”

A little blush betrayed that I had at least won this skirmish. Our horses hadn’t a canter left in them, so we allowed them to walk towards home.

“How beautiful those woods are!”—and I called my companion’s attention to the rich clumps of trees which fringed the hills near us. Their gorgeous autumn colouring, with the sunlight shining full upon them through the cold clear air of a November afternoon, formed part of a splendid landscape.

“They are, indeed,” she replied; adding—“which do you like best, Mr. Templar, London or the country?”

“You forget, Miss Keith, I have never yet tried riding with you in a London street, therefore I must withhold my judgment.”

“Oh, what nonsense you talk; you know what I mean.”

“I think I do; but really I am at present so well contented with the country, that it will be dangerous for me to decide. I wish this was the exception to the rule regarding long lanes, and that it had no turning, but led straight on for ever.”

“Well, you are unmerciful. If you have forgotten such material things as dinner, you might at least have had some feeling for your poor horse’s wants. I am afraid you are becoming selfish, Mr. Templar.”

“If it is selfish to centre one’s thoughts upon one individual; to love one person to the exclusion of all others; to know no pleasure in life except in the society of one single human being; if to love her with all my heart and soul and strength, and to feed continually upon the hope of being permitted to devote my existence to making her life happy; if, in short, dearest Miss Keith, to love—”

At this moment a loud halloo from Danvers