As he glanced away from his prolonged stare he met the piercing gaze of
Lady Louise's turquoise-blue eyes.

"_Et tu, Brute_?" she cried gayly. "Oh, my prophetic soul! Did I not
warn you, Sir Everard? Did I not foretell that the dashing damsel in
the scarlet habit would play the mischief with your fox-hunting hearts?
No, no! never deny the soft impeachment! But I tell you, as I told
Lord Ernest, it is of no use. She is but seventeen, and 'ower young to
marry yet.'"

Before Sir Everard could retort, the cry of "Here they come!"
proclaimed the arrival of the hounds.

The hounds were put into the gorse, and the red-coats began to move out
of the field into the lane, Sir Everard and Lady Louise with them.

A loud "Halloo!" rang through the air; the hounds came with a rushing
roar over a fence.

"There he is!" cried a chorus of voices, as the fox flew over the
ground.

And at the same instant Whirlwind tore by like its namesake, with the
handsome girl upright as a dart. Away went Sir Galahad, side by side
with the roan. Lady Louise and her sedate nag were left hopelessly
behind.

On and on like the wind Whirlwind flew the fences, and Miss Hunsden sat
in her saddle like a queen on her throne.