ieurs_!"

One fleeting, backward glance of the bewitching face, a saucy smile and
a wave of the hand, and Whirlwind had leaped across the brook and
ambled on beside the sober charger of Lady Louise.

"Every one has been talking of your riding, Miss Hunsden," Lady Louise
said. "I am nearly beside myself with envy. Lord Ernest Strathmore
says you are the most graceful equestrienne he ever saw."

"His lordship is very good. I wish I could return the compliment, but
his chestnut balked shamefully, and came home dead beat!"

Lord Ernest was within hearing distance of the clear, girlish voice,
but he only laughed good-naturedly.

"As you are strong, be merciful, Miss Hunsden. We can't all perform
miracles on horseback, you know. I came an awful cropper at that ugly
hedge, to be sure, and your red horse went over me like a blaze of
lightning! You owe me some atonement, and--of course you are going to
the ball to-night?"

"Of course! I like balls even better than hunting."

"And she dances better than she rides," put in her father, coming up.

"She is perfection in everything she undertakes, I am certain," Lord
Ernest said, "and for that atonement I speak of, Miss Hunsden, I claim
the first waltz."

They rode together to Carteret Park. Sir Everard had the privilege of
assisting her to dismount.

"You must be fatigued, Miss Hunsden," he said. "With a ball in
prospective, after your hard gallop, I should recommend a long rest."

"Sir Everard, I don't know the meaning of that word 'fatigue.' I never
was tired in my life, and I am ready for the ball to-night, and a
steeple-chase to-morrow."

She tripped off as she spoke, with a mischievous glance. She wanted to
shock him, and she succeeded.

"Poor girl!" he thought, as he slowly turned homeward, "she is really
dreadful. She never had a mother, I suppose, and wandering over the
world with her father has made her a perfect savage. She is truly to
be pitied--so exceedingly beautiful as she is, too!"

Sir Everard certainly was very sorry for that hoidenish Miss Hunsden.
He thought of her while dressing for dinner, and he talked of her all
through that meal "more in sorrow than in anger."

Sybilla Silver, quite like one of the family already, listened with
greedy ears and eager black eyes.

"You ought to call, mother," the baronet said, "you and Mildred.
Common politeness requires it, Captain Hunsden was my father's most
intimate friend, and this wild gi