aeval frame. She really had
the heroical aspect in a grandiose-grotesque, fitted to some lines of
Ariosto. Her head wore a close hood, disclosing a fringe of grey locks,
owlish to see about features hooked for action.

'Ah, you! there you are: good--I'll join you in three minutes,' she sang
out to him, and cantered to the ridge.

Hardly beyond the stated number she was beside him again, ranging her
steed for the victim log to dance a gyration on its branches across the
lane and enter a field among the fallen compeers. One of her men had run
behind her. She slid from her saddle and tossed him the reins, catching
up her skirts.

'That means war, as much as they'll have it in England,' she said,
seeing his glance at the logs. 'My husband's wise enough to leave it
to me, so I save him trouble with neighbours. An ass of a Mr. Gilbert
Addicote dares us to make good our claim on our property, our timber,
because half a score of fir-tree roots go stretching on to his ground.'

She swished her whip. Mr. Gilbert Addicote received the stroke and
retired, a buried subject. They walked on at an even pace. 'You 'll see
Leo to-morrow. He worships you. You may as well give him a couple of
hours' coaching a day for the week. He'll be hanging about you, and you
won't escape him. Well, and my brother Rowsley: how is Lord Ormont? He
never comes to me now, since--Well, it 's nothing to me; but I like to
see my brother. She can't make any change here. Olmer and Lady Charlotte
's bosom were both implied. 'What do you think?--you 've noticed: is he
in good health? It 's the last thing he 'll be got to speak of.'

Weyburn gave the proper assurances.

'Not he!' said she. 'He's never ill. Men beat women in the long race, if
they haven't overdone it when young. My doctor wants me to renounce the
saddle. He says it 's time. Not if I 've got work for horseback!' she
nicked her head emphatically: 'I hate old age. They sha'nt dismount
me till a blow comes. Hate it! But I should despise myself if I showed
signs, like a worm under heel. Let Nature do her worst; she can't
conquer us as long as we keep up heart. You won't have to think of that
for a good time yet. Now tell me why Lord Ormont didn't publish the
"Plan for the Defence" you said he was writing; and he was, I know. He
wrote it and he finished it; you made the fair copy. Well, and he read
it,--there! see!' She took the invisible sheets in her hands and tore
them. 'That's my brother. He's