farm, no doubt,
to see Alfred's horses. Mrs. Drumblade did not understand horses; her
interest was in the question of education. She might even confess that
she had accepted Alfred's invitation in the hope of hearing Miss
Pink's views. There would be opportunities, she trusted, for a little
instructive conversation on that subject. It was, perhaps, ridiculous to
talk, at her age, of feeling as if she was Miss Pink's pupil; and yet
it exactly expressed the nature of the aspiration which was then in her
mind.

In these terms, feeling her way with the utmost nicety, Mrs. Drumblade
wound the net of flattery round and round Miss Pink until her hold on
that innocent lady was, in every sense of the word, secure. Before half
the horses had been passed under review, Hardyman and Isabel were out of
sight, and Mrs. Drumblade and Miss Pink were lost in the intricacies
of the stables. "Excessively stupid of me! We had better go back, and
establish ourselves comfortably in the parlor. When my brother misses
us, he and your charming niece will return to look for us in the
cottage." Under cover of this arrangement the separation became
complete. Miss Pink held forth on education to Mrs. Drumblade in the
parlor; while Hardyman and Isabel were on their way to a paddock at the
farthest limits of the property.

"I am afraid you are getting a little tired," said Hardyman. "Won't you
take my arm?"

Isabel was on her guard: she had not forgotten what Lady Lydiard had
said to her. "No, thank you, Mr. Hardyman; I am a better walker than you
think."

Hardyman continued the conversation in his blunt, resolute way. "I
wonder whether you will believe me," he asked, "if I tell you that this
is one of the happiest days of my life."

"I should think you were always happy," Isabel cautiously replied,
"having such a pretty place to live in as this."

Hardyman met that answer with one of his quietly-positive denials. "A
man is never happy by himself," he said. "He is happy with a companion.
For instance, I am happy with you."

Isabel stopped and looked back. Hardyman's language was becoming a
little too explicit. "Surely we have lost Mrs. Drumblade and my aunt,"
she said. "I don't see them anywhere."

"You will see them directly; they are only a long way behind." With this
assurance, he returned, in his own obstinate way, to his one object in
view. "Miss Isabel, I want to ask you a question. I'm not a ladies' man.
I speak my mind plainly to ev