indulgently.

"I hope we are doing right! Four hours by oneself in the saddle is
rather a lonely thing."

"Oh, but I won't be alone!" Clodagh cried. "A good horse is the best
company in the world."

At the conclusion of breakfast, she rose to go upstairs and change into
her habit. As she passed her hostess, she paused.

"Shall I run in and see Lady Frances?" she asked.

Lady Diana looked up at her.

"I think not. Frances called through the door this morning that no one
was to go near her before twelve o'clock. I'd wait till then, if I were
you."

And Clodagh nodded comprehendingly and left the room.

Half an hour later, she rode down a long avenue of chestnuts, mounted
on a splendid bay horse of Lady Diana's, and emerged upon the road that
skirted the park wall.

Tuffnell Place was situated in one of the richest corners of
Buckinghamshire; and as she drew rein for a moment outside the large
gates and surveyed the surrounding country, it seemed to her that, as
far as the eye could reach, the land stretched away in one great tract
of prosperous, well-tilled fields and sweeping meadow-land, broken by
high hedges and low wooded hills.

The day was one to revel in; the scene one to bring complete repose.
And as she gathered up her reins and allowed the bay horse to sweep
down the gently sloping road into this land of plenty, she permitted
the atmosphere to take full possession of her. For the moment, the
thought of London, of her fellow-beings, even of herself, fell away
from her conscious consideration; and she dreamed--as an Irishwoman can
always dream--with her eyes open and her senses alert to her horse's
slightest movement; yet wrapped in a world of her own, created from the
warm blue haze of summer that lay over the rich country--from the
summer sun that warmed her blood--from the close, instinctive
comprehension of nature, that no artificiality has power to eradicate.

It was more than three hours later when she rode back to the gates of
Tuffnell, having covered many miles of country, and revelled for a long
delicious stretch of time in her own musings. The air and the hot sun
had warmed her face to a splendid healthy colour, her lips were parted
eagerly, and across her saddle she was carrying a spray of honeysuckle,
plucked from the tall hedgerows. Her mood was generous, pliable,
brimming with high impulses; if, in that moment, one loving hand had
been stretched forth to hers--one honest soul come out