can
do this, what will not Lillie do?'

"'But who is he?' I repeated.

"'He's the oldest son of John Burton of Darrow, in ----shire. They are
farmers, and they might be gentlemen, but they are queer, and won't. For
generations untold they have cultivated their own land, and are mighty
men at the plough and in the saddle. So are the women of the family, for
that matter. But you will see when we go down. They are one of the few
great yeoman families left in the land. We shall have a jolly time.'

"'And who is Lillie?' I asked.

"'This man's sister. If you want to see a woman ride, see her,--it's
absolute perfection,--hereditary too: they all ride till they marry.'

"'And not afterwards?' I said, very much amused.

"'Never for mere pleasure, I believe. They have family traditions about
all sorts of things, this among others. It is some notion about taking
care of their homes and children, if I remember rightly. Miss Lillie
will tell you all about it. How lucky that you met Jack this afternoon.'

"This was all I could get out of Satterlee; but, dull as you may think
it, I was really interested, and waited impatiently for the coming
invitation.

"The next morning arrived a note from Mr. Burton, asking us, in his
father's name, to spend the next week at Darrow, and saying that the
farmers' races were to take place then, and would be our only amusement.
Before the day for starting came, I had lost half the enthusiasm which
the sight of valiant Jack Burton's hair had kindled, and tried hard to
get off from going; but Satterlee was bent on a week's riding, as he
always called our visit, and we started early one Wednesday morning, and
at dusk on Friday found ourselves entering the broad valley which formed
the Darrow estate. Satterlee was familiar with the ground, and
discoursed eloquently of its beauty and fertility as we drove along; but
he failed to interest me, for, to tell the truth, I was sunk in
melancholy, and thought only of Miss Ferrers and of that which had
passed between us. Why had I come all these miles to see people who were
total strangers to me, and would almost certainly prove dull, or even
vulgar? Dick was an enthusiast, and not to be believed,--we might turn
back even then.

"Such were my thoughts as we entered the lane at the end of which shone
the lights of Darrow House. As we drew near, I could see that it was a
mere farm-house,--very large indeed, but otherwise in no way
remarkable. We drove up