He was, in sooth, with his rich riding-habit, his handsome face, his
plumed hat, and the sun shining on the fair luxuriant locks which fell
beneath it. It was Sir John Oxon, and he was habited as when he rode in
the park in town and the court was there. Not so were attired the
country gentry whom Anne had been wont to see, though many of them were
well mounted, knowing horseflesh and naught else, as they did.

She pressed her cheek against the side of the oriel window, over which
the ivy grew thickly. She was so intent that she could not withdraw her
gaze. She watched him as he turned away, having received his dismissal,
and she pressed her face closer that she might follow him as he rode down
the long avenue of oak-trees, his servant riding behind.

Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him from
her sight; and even then the spell was not dissolved, and she still
regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind her made her
start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and rich, and when she
so started and turned to see whom it might be, she beheld her sister
Clorinda, who was standing just within the threshold, as if movement had
been arrested by what had met her eye as she came in. Poor Anne put her
hand to her side again.

"Oh sister!" she gasped; "oh sister!" but could say no more.

She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been out
at all, for she was in home attire; and even in the midst of her
trepidation there sprang into Anne's mind the awful thought that through
some servant's blunder the comely young visitor had been sent away. For
herself, she expected but to be driven forth with wrathful, disdainful
words for her presumption. For what else could she hope from this