'Thank you. Is this better?'

'Yes, better. A little more yet. You ought to have your stirrups shorter. It is a poor affectation to ride like a trooper. Their own officers don't. You can tell any novice by his long leathers, his heels down and his toes in his stirrups. Ride home, if you want to ride comfortably.'

The phrase was new to me, but I guessed what she meant; and without dismounting, pulled my stirrup-leathers a couple of holes shorter, and thrust my feet through to the instep. She watched the whole proceeding.

'There! you look more like riding now,' she said. 'Let us have another canter. I will promise not to lead you over any more fences without due warning.'

'And due admonition as well, I trust, Clara.'

She nodded, and away we went. I had never been so proud of my mare. She showed to much advantage, with the graceful figure on her back, which she carried like a feather.

'Now there's a little fence,' she said, pointing where a rail or two protected a clump of plantation. 'You must mind the young wood though, or we shall get into trouble. Mind you throw yourself back a little--as you see me do.'

I watched her, and following her directions, did better this time, for I got over somehow and recovered my seat.

'There! You improve,' said Clara. 'Now we're pounded, unless you can jump again, and it is not quite so easy from this side.'

When we alighted, I found my saddle in the proper place.

'Bravo!' she cried. 'I entirely forgive your first misadventure. You do splendidly.'

'I would rather you forgot it, Clara,' I cried, ungallantly.

'Well, I will be generous,' she returned. 'Besides, I owe you something for such a charming ride. I _will_ forget it.'

'Thank you,' I said, and drawing closer would have laid my left hand on her right.

Whether she foresaw my intention, I do not know; but in a moment she was yards away, scampering over the gra.s.s. My horse could never have overtaken hers.

By the time she drew rein and allowed me to get alongside of her once more, we were in sight: of Moldwarp Hall. It stood with one corner towards us, giving the perspective of two sides at once. She stopped her mare, and said,

'There, Wilfrid! What would you give to call a place like that your own? What a thing to have a house like that to live in!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NOW THERE'S A LITTLE FENCE," SHE SAID.]

'I know something I should like better,' I said.

I a.s.sure my reader I was not so silly as to be on the point of making her an offer already. Neither did she so misunderstand me. She was very near the mark of my meaning when she rejoined--

'Do you? I don't. I suppose you would prefer being called a fine poet, or something of the sort.'

I was glad she did not give me time to reply, for I had not intended to expose myself to her ridicule. She was off again at a gallop towards the Hall, straight for the less accessible of the two gates, and had scrambled the mare up to the very bell-pull and rung it before I could get near her. When the porter appeared in the wicket--

'Open the gate, Jansen,' she said. 'I want to see Mrs Wilson, and I don't want to get down.'

'But horses never come in here, Miss,' said the man.

'I mean to make an exception in favour of this mare,' she answered.

The man hesitated a moment, then retreated--but only to obey, as we understood at once by the creaking of the dry hinges, which were seldom required to move.

'You won't mind holding her for me, will you?' she said, turning to me.

I had been sitting mute with surprise both at the way in which she ordered the man, and at his obedience. But now I found my tongue.

'Don't you think, Miss Coningham,' I said--for the man was within hearing, 'we had better leave them both with the porter, and then we could go in together? I'm not sure that those flags, not to mention the steps, are good footing for that mare.'

'Oh! you're afraid of your animal, are you?' she rejoined. 'Very well.'

'Shall I hold your stirrup for you?'

Before I could dismount, she had slipped off, and begun gathering up her skirt. The man came and took the horses. We entered by the open gate together.

'How can you be so cruel, Clara?' I said. 'You _will_ always misinterpret me! I was quite right about the flags. Don't you see how hard they are, and how slippery therefore for iron shoes?'

'You might have seen by this time that I know quite as much about horses as you do,' she returned, a little cross, I thought.

'You can ride ever so much better,' I answered; 'but it does not follow you know more about horses than I do. I once saw a horse have a frightful fall on just such a pavement. Besides, does one think _only_ of the horse when there's an angel on his back?'

It was a silly speech, and deserved rebuke.

'I'm not in the least fond of _such_ compliments,' she answered.

By this time we had reached the door of Mrs Wilson's apartment. She received us rather stiffly, even for her. After some commonplace talk, in which, without departing from facts, Clara made it appear that she had set out for the express purpose of paying Mrs Wilson a visit, I asked if the family was at home, and finding they were not, begged leave to walk into the library.

'We'll go together,' she said, apparently not caring about a tete-a-tete with Clara. Evidently the old lady liked her as little as ever.

We left the house, and entering again by a side door, pa.s.sed on our way through the little gallery, into which I had dropped from the roof.

'Look, Clara, that is where I came down,' I said.

She merely nodded. But Mrs Wilson looked very sharply, first at the one, then at the other of us. When we reached the library, I found it in the same miserable condition as before, and could not help exclaiming with some indignation,

'It _is_ a shame to see such treasures mouldering there! I am confident there are many valuable books among them, getting ruined from pure neglect. I wish I knew Sir Giles. I would ask him to let me come and set them right.'

'You would be choked with dust and cobwebs in an hour's time,' said Clara. 'Besides, I don't think Mrs Wilson would like the proceeding.'

'What do you ground that remark upon, Miss Clara?' said the housekeeper in a dry tone.

'I thought you used them for firewood occasionally,' answered Clara, with an innocent expression both of manner and voice.

The most prudent answer to such an absurd charge would have been a laugh; but Mrs Wilson vouchsafed no reply at all, and I pretended to be too much occupied with its subject to have heard it.

After lingering a little while, during which I paid attention chiefly to Mrs Wilson, drawing her notice to the state of several of the books, I proposed we should have a peep at the armoury. We went in, and, glancing over the walls I knew so well, I scarcely repressed an exclamation: I could not be mistaken in my own sword! There it hung, in the centre of the princ.i.p.al s.p.a.ce--in the same old sheath, split half-way up from the point! To the hilt hung an ivory label with a number upon it. I suppose I made some inarticulate sound, for Clara fixed her eyes upon me. I busied myself at once with a gorgeously hiked scimitar, which hung near, for I did not wish to talk about it then, and so escaped further remark. From the armoury we went to the picture-gallery, where I found a good many pictures had been added to the collection. They were all new and mostly brilliant in colour. I was no judge, but I could not help feeling how crude and harsh they looked beside the mellowed tints of the paintings, chiefly portraits, among which they had been introduced.

'Horrid!--aren't they?' said Clara, as if she divined my thoughts; but I made no direct reply, unwilling to offend Mrs Wilson.

When we were once more on horseback, and walking across the gra.s.s, my companion was the first to speak.