d you
take me for at first sight--for an apparition of the wild huntsman?"

"An apparition! Certainly not; that's too ethereal. I took you for
a sad reality--a gamekeeper suffering from toothache."

She seemed piqued for a moment, her cheeks coloured, and she bit
her lips.

"That's rude," she said at last, and glanced at me with scintillating
eyes.

"You asked for the truth," I rejoined.

"So I did; and you shall find I can endure the truth. Give me your
hand, cousin; I think we shall become good friends."

"I hope so, cousin. But don't be generous by halves: let me touch
your hand, and not that rough riding-glove."

"You are a fastidious fellow," she said, shaking her head; "but you
shall have your way. There."

And a beautiful white hand lay in mine, which I held a minute longer
than was absolutely necessary. She did not seem to perceive it.

"But call me Francis; I shall call you Leo. The endless repetition
of cousin is so wearisome," she said frankly.

"Most willingly;" and I pressed her hand again.

"Your driver will have told you he recognized Major Frank."

"That's but too true; and don't you, Francis, consider it a great
insult that people dare to call you by such a name?"

"Oh, I don't mind it in the least! I know they have given me this
nickname. I am neither better nor worse for it. I know, also, that I
am pointed at as a Cossack or a cavalry officer by the people round,
and am stared at because I dress to suit my own convenience, and not
according to the latest fashions."

"But a woman should try to please others in her way of dressing. In
my opinion, a woman's first duty is to make herself agreeable. Can
we not show our good taste even in the simplest and plainest attire?"

She coloured a little.

"Do you imagine, then, that I have no taste at all, because I have
put on this shaggy cloak to protect me from the east winds?" she
demanded sharply.

"I do not judge from that single article of dress; I am referring to
the ensemble, and one gets a bad opinion of a young lady's taste when
she wraps up her face in an unsightly red handkerchief."

"Which gives her the appearance of a gamekeeper with the toothache,"
she interposed, with a quick, bold air. "Well now, that's easily
remedied, if the wind will respect my billycock;" and hereupon she
untied the handkerchief and unpinned her riding-habit.

CHAPTER XI.

As she stepped forward, the long train of her riding-habit added