right or left, and after a sharp run of an hour, Miss Hunsden had the
glory and happiness of being one of the few up at the finish in time to
see the fox, quite dead, held over the huntsman's head, with the hounds
hanging expectant around.

Every eye turned upon the heroine of the hour, and loud were the
canticles chanted in her honor. The master of the hounds himself rode
up, all aglow with admiration.

"Miss Hunsden," he said, "I never in all my life saw a lady ride as you
rode to-day. There are not half a dozen men in Devonshire who would
have faced those fences as you did. I sincerely hope you will
frequently honor our field by your presence and matchless riding."

Miss Hunsden bowed easily and smiled.

And then her father came up, his soldierly old face aglow.

"Harrie, my dear, I am proud of you! You led us all to-day. I
wouldn't have taken that nasty place myself, and I didn't believe even
Whirlwind could do it."

Then George Grosvenor and Lord Ernest and the rest of the men crowded
around, and compliments poured in in a deluge.

Sir Everard held himself aloof--disgusted, nauseated--or so he told
himself.

"Such an unwomanly exhibition! Such a daring, masculine leap! And see
how she sits and smiles on those empty-headed fox-hunters, like an