courage, Elizabeth?"

"I am ready to take your word or Ranby's for what is venturesome," was
Bessie's moderate reply. "My father taught me to ride as soon as I could
sit, so that I have no fear. But I am out of practice, for I have never
ridden since I went to Caen."

"You must have a new habit: you shall have a heavy one for the winter,
and ride to the meet with me occasionally. I suppose you have never done
that?"

"Mr. Musgrave once took me to see the hounds throw off. I rode Harry's
pony that day. I was staying at Brook for a week."

Mr. Fairfax knew who "Mr. Musgrave" was and who "Harry" was, but Bessie
did not recollect that he knew. However, as he asked no explanation of
them, she volunteered none, and they returned to the gardens.

The cultivated grounds of Abbotsmead extended round three sides of the
house. On the west, where the principal entrance was, an outer
semicircle of lime trees, formed by the extension of the avenue,
enclosed a belt of evergreens, and in the middle of the drive rose a
mound over which spread a magnificent cedar. The great hall was the
central portion of the building, lighted by two lofty, square-headed
windows on either side of the door; the advanced wings that flanked it
had corresponding bays of exquisite proportions, which were the
end-windows of the great drawing-room and the old banqueting-room. The
former was continued along the south, with one bay very wide and deep,
and on either side of it a smaller bay, all preserving their dim glazing
after the old Venetian pattern. Beyond the drawing-room was the modern