he gave to the last word. The recollection of his wrongs had made him
almost energetic: we listened to his eloquence in respectful surprise.

"It was adding insult to injury," answered Guy. "If Parliament does not
do something for you all soon, there will be another exodus of the
Parthenidæ."

Charley looked at his friend admiringly, as he always did when Guy was
classical in his allusions; but the unwonted effort had evidently
exhausted him, and he lapsed into silence.

We rode out that afternoon to make some calls in the neighborhood, and,
in returning, Livingstone proposed a short cut through a line of gates,
with a short interval of cross-country work.

His cousin looked delighted, Bruce decidedly uncomfortable, though, of
course, he could not refuse. He was riding Kathleen, an Irish mare, one
of the quietest in the Kerton stable, where none were very steady. The
fences were nothing at first; at last we came to a brook. It was not
broad, but evidently deep, with high, rotten banks. However, as we were
going at a fair hunting pace, all, including Bella Donna and her
mistress, took it in their stride, but pulled up at once, seeing that
Bruce was left behind, with the groom who was following us.

The first time he came at it, it was a clear case of "craning." He was
hauling nervously at the reins, and would not let the mare have it.

Guy regarded him with intense contempt. "By G--d," he muttered, "I
believe the man's afraid!"