sposed
to laugh occasionally at times when nothing could be more ill-timed or
unsuitable; and so, at moments when we would give anything in the world
for some commonplace theme to hang phrases on, we cannot, for the life
of us, originate one.

"You've not ridden out, I think, since we came?" said Roland, at last,
but with an air of sudden despair at his own stupidity.

"No. We have driven out once or twice; but--but--"

"Pray finish," said he, with a persuasive look as he spoke.

"I was going to say that your horses are so spirited, that I was really
afraid to trust myself, and the more so as Miss Meek is so wild and so
reckless."

"Never think of riding with _her_, Let me be your _chaperon_,--shall we
say to-morrow? I 've got the gentlest creature that was ever mounted."

"Oh, I know her; that sweet white Arab I saw the groom exercising
yesterday?"

"No; not she," said Roland, blushing and confused, "a spotted barb,
fully as handsome--some say handsomer. Will you do me the favor to ride
her to-morrow, and, if she be fortunate enough to please you, to accept
her?"

Olivia hung down her head for a second, and a deep scarlet covered her
cheek, and rose even to her temples, and it was with a voice broken and
interrupted she said, "Oh, I cannot--I must not." Then, turning on him a
look, where the tearful eyes, swimming in a softened lustre, conveyed a
whole story of deep suffering, she said rapidly, "You are too kind
and too good ever to give pain; you are too generous to believe others
capable of it; but were I to accept your beautiful gift--were I even to
ride out with you _alone_--there is nothing that would not be said of
me."

It was Cashel's turn for a slight blush now; and, to do him justice, he
felt the sensation a most disagreeable one. It had not indeed occurred
to him to make the proposal as the young lady took it, but he was far
too long schooled in gallantry to undeceive her, and so he said, "I
really cannot see this in the light you do. It is a very natural wish on
my part, that I should show my guests whatever my poor grounds afford of
the picturesque; and remember, we are not friends of yesterday." This he
said in his very kindest tone.

"I _do_ remember it," said she, with a slow but most meaning sigh.

"That memory is, I trust, not so associated with sorrow," added he,
leaning down, and speaking in a deep, earnest voice, "that you recall it
with a sigh?"

"Oh, no; but I was thinking--I must