LADY FOXHUNTERS 305 



waist are admirably developed by the close-fitting 

 evenness of her well-made London habit. The hat, 

 too, becomes her. It rather fines than fulls her 

 plump healthy cheeks, and the maid has given some 

 extra labour in the brightening and arrangement of 

 her flat-dressed hair. Most young women look well 

 in hats and habits. But here comes Sir Rasper, 

 bearing down the road like a man-of-war in full sail. 

 He comes at the pace of the regular five or six days 

 a week man, who knows to a minute how long it will 

 take him to "do" each meet. You can tell at a 

 glance that he is a workman ; every thing bespeaks 

 it, from the hat on his head to the spur at his heel. 

 What an age of anxiety — what a world of time is 

 often comprised in a brief, unpremeditated moment 

 like the present ! A glance, a look, a word, and the 

 thing is done. Sir Rasper greets our fair friend with 

 the hearty cordiality of a half-way-met agreeably- 

 surprised foxhunter. He is pleased with the atten- 

 tion of so fine a girl. A tinge of pink pervades 

 Henrietta's bright healthy complexion, as she re- 

 cognizes the pressure of his somewhat hard hand. 

 When hers is released she dives into the saddle- 

 pocket for the fine lace-fringed handkerchief. Cousin 

 Spooney looks amazed. 



How long soever a man may be about it, it is clear 

 there must be a first thought, a first impulse as to 

 marrying a girl, and Sir Rasper's impulse came on 

 him rather suddenly this morning. Pleased with 

 Henrietta's appearance, flattered by her preference, 

 and perhaps wanting a solace for the fast wearing-out 

 season, he said to himself as he changed his hack for 

 his hunter, " By Jove, why shouldn't I marry her?" 



TO OUR READERS. 



" If any of you know cause or just impediment 

 why these two persons should not be joined to- 



