LCtednesday, pebtruat^y 14th, 1894. 29 



and whose sweet voice now greets me in the soft 

 music that has Hngered in my ears ever since we 

 parted in the South of France. She tells me that 

 she is staying with a friend who resides in the 

 neighbourhood, is so glad to meet someone that she 

 knows, and will enjoy to talk over old times, and the 

 people and places which we remember. I am 

 delighted to escort her, but acknowledge that, 

 although I am beginning to know the country, and 

 can guide her through the boggy and difficult ground, 

 I cannot rely on being always in the first flight. She 

 assures me that she is not ambitious, and will be 

 quite contented to see as much of the run as she 

 can, without any great amount of riding. 



Indeed, I guessed as much, for though a perfect 

 horsewoman, as one can see at a glance, her style 

 of riding is of that quiet order which betokens a 

 gentle nature. In our excursions through the lovely 

 country of the sunny South, we had often indulged 

 in an occasional canter which sometimes resulted in 

 a race, but for the greater part of our rides we 

 allowed our horses to proceed at a foot-pace, so that 

 we might enjoy the view and converse on such 

 things as interested us. Our surroundings were 

 not such as to suggest " the chase " as a subject for 

 conversation. And as we wandered on in dreamy 

 bliss, I never imagined that our next meeting would 

 be in a stirring hunting field. But here she is, and 



