Evandale imitated his example, although many around him said it was an
innovation on the established practice, which he was not obliged to
follow. But his skill was not so perfect, or his horse was not so well
trained. The animal swerved at the moment his master fired, and the ball
missed the popinjay. Those who had been surprised by the address of the
green marksman were now equally pleased by his courtesy. He disclaimed
all merit from the last shot, and proposed to his antagonist that it
should not be counted as a hit, and that they should renew the contest on
foot.

"I would prefer horseback, if I had a horse as well bitted, and,
probably, as well broken to the exercise, as yours," said the young Lord,
addressing his antagonist.

"Will you do me the honour to use him for the next trial, on condition
you will lend me yours?" said the young gentleman.

Lord Evandale was ashamed to accept this courtesy, as conscious how much
it would diminish the value of victory; and yet, unable to suppress his
wish to redeem his reputation as a marksman, he added, "that although he
renounced all pretensions to the honour of the day," (which he said
some-what scornfully,) "yet, if the victor had no particular objection,
he would willingly embrace his obliging offer, and change horses with
him, for the purpose of trying a shot for love."

As he said so, he looked boldly towards Miss Bellenden, and tradition
says, that the eyes of the young tirailleur travelled, though more
covertly, in the same direction. The young Lord's last trial was as
unsuccessful as the former, and it was with difficulty that he preserved
the tone of scornful indifference which he had hitherto assumed. But,