had been her delight to canter,
without the ghost of an attendant, over the fourteen or sixteen miles
of hard road intervening between their home and the station at St.
Launce's, put up the horse, and go on the remainder of the distance by
train, returning in the same manner in the evening. It was then resolved
that, though she had successfully accomplished this journey once, it was
not to be repeated without some attendance.

But Elfride must not be confounded with ordinary young feminine
equestrians. The circumstances of her lonely and narrow life made it
imperative that in trotting about the neighbourhood she must trot
alone or else not at all. Usage soon rendered this perfectly natural to
herself. Her father, who had had other experiences, did not much like
the idea of a Swancourt, whose pedigree could be as distinctly traced as
a thread in a skein of silk, scampering over the hills like a farmer's
daughter, even though he could habitually neglect her. But what with
his not being able to afford her a regular attendant, and his inveterate
habit of letting anything be to save himself trouble, the circumstance
grew customary. And so there arose a chronic notion in the villagers'
minds that all ladies rode without an attendant, like Miss Swancourt,
except a few who were sometimes visiting at Lord Luxellian's.

'I don't like your going to Plymouth alone, particularly going to St.
Launce's on horseback. Why not drive, and take the man?'

'It is not nice to be so overlooked.' Worm's company would not seriously
have interfered with her plans, but it was her humour to go without him.

'When do you want to go?' said her father.

She only answered, 'Soon.'

'I will consider,' he said.

Only a few days elapsed before she asked again. A letter had reached
her from Stephen. It had been timed to come on that day by special
arrangement between them. In it he named the earliest morning on which
he could meet her at Plymouth. Her father had been on a journey to
Stratleigh, and returned in unusual buoyancy of spirit. It was a good
opportunity; and since the dismissal of Stephen her father had been
generally in a mood to make small concessions, that he might steer clear
of large ones connected with that outcast lover of hers.

'Next Thursday week I am going from home in a different direction,' said
her father. 'In fact, I shall leave home the night before. You might
choose the same day, for they wish to take up the carpets, or