nd so get
back to London by moonlight. As we reach a quiet, sequestered lane,
and inhale the pleasant fragrance of the hawthorn--always sweetest
towards nightfall--we hear a horse's tramp behind us, and are joined
by Frank Lovell, who explains with unnecessary distinctness that "he
always makes a practice of _riding back_ from Hampton to avoid the
crowd, and always comes _that_ way." If so, he must be in the habit of
taking a considerable detour. But he joins our party, and we ride home
together.

How beautifully the moon shone upon the river as we crossed Kew Bridge
that calm, silent, summer night! How it flickered through their
branches and silvered over the old trees, and what a peaceful, lovely
landscape it was! I thought Frank's low, sweet voice quite in keeping
with the time and the scene. As we rode together, John lagging a good
deal behind (that bay horse of John's never _could_ walk with White
Stockings), I could not help thinking how much I had misunderstood
Captain Lovell's character. What a deal of feeling--almost of
romance--there was under that conventional exterior which he wore
before the world! I liked him so much more now I came to know him
better. I was quite sorry when we had to wish him "good-night" and
John and I rode thoughtfully home through the quiet streets. I thought
my cousin's manner was altered too, though I scarce knew how. His
farewell sounded more constrained, more polite than usual, when he
left me at Aunt Deborah's door. And whilst I was undressing I
reflected on all the proceedings of the day, and tried to remember
what I had done that could possibly have displeased good-natured John.
The more I went over it, backwards and forwards, the less could I make
of it. "Can it be possible," I thought at last; "can it be possible
that Cousin John----" And here I popped out my candle and jumped into
bed.

CHAPTER VI.

I really had not courage to take my usual canter the morning after
Hampton Races. I did not feel as if I could face the umbrella and the
cigar at the rails in "the Ride," and yet I rang the bell once for my
maid to help me on with my habit, and had my hand on it more than once
to order my horse; but I thought better of it. Poor Aunt Deborah's
cold was still bad, though she was downstairs; so I determined to take
care of her, in common gratitude, and give her the advantage of my
agreeable society. I am very fond of Aunt Deborah in my own way, and I
know there is nothin