when she saw the horsewoman gallop off across the grass towards the
gate, she could not help thinking that she would have been just as well
able to ride after Mr. Price as her old friend Adelaide de Baron. The
Dean did go on, having intimated his purpose of riding on just to see
Price's farm.

When the unwonted perturbation was over at Manor Cross Lord George was
obliged to revert again to the tidings he had received from Mr. Knox.
He could not keep it to himself. He felt himself obliged to tell it all
to Lady Sarah.

"That he should write to such a man as Mr. Price, telling him of his
anxiety to banish his own mother from her own house!"

"You did not see the letter?"

"No; but Knox did. They could not very well show such a letter to me;
but Knox says that Price was very indignant, and swore that he would
not even answer it."

"I suppose he can afford it, George? It would be very dreadful to ruin
him."

"Price is a rich man. And after all, if Price were to do all that
Brotherton desires him, he could only keep us out for a year or so. But
don't you think you will all be very uncomfortable here. How will my
mother feel if she isn't ever allowed to see him? And how will you feel
if you find that you never want to see his wife?"

Lady Sarah sat silent for a few minutes before she answered him, and
then declared for war. "It is very bad, George; very bad. I can foresee
great unhappiness; especially the unhappiness which must come from
constant condemnation of one whom we ought to wish to love and approve
of before all others. But nothing can be so bad as running away. We
ought not to allow anything to drive mamma from her own house, and us
from our own duties. I don't think we ought to take any notice of
Brotherton's letter to Mr. Price." It was thus decided between them
that no further notice should be taken of the Marquis's letter to Mr.
Price.

CHAPTER VIII.

PUGSBY BROOK.

There was great talking about the old vixen as they all trotted away to
Cross Hall Holt;--how it was the same old fox that they hadn't killed
in a certain run last January, and how one old farmer was quite sure
that this very fox was the one which had taken them that celebrated run
to Bamham Moor three years ago, and how she had been the mother of
quite a Priam's progeny of cubs. And now that she should have been
killed in a stokehole! While this was going on a young lady rode up
along side of Mr. Price, and said a word to him