Archibald had his horse saddled, and mounting him, rode out upon his
estate. In the course of an hour or so he found himself approaching the
pond, which, as has been already stated, lay on the border-line between
Malmaison and the lands of Richard Pennroyal. As he drew near the spot, he
saw at a distance the figure of a woman, also on horseback. It was
Kate--Mrs. Pennroyal. She was riding slowly in a direction nearly opposite
to his own, so that if they kept on they would meet on the borders of the
pond.

Sir Archibald had not met this lady for many months; and when he recognized
her, his first impulse was perhaps to draw rein. Then he looked to see
whether that were her impulse likewise. But she held on her course; and
he, smiling in a defiant way, shook his bridle, and in a few moments they
were but half a dozen yards apart. There they paused, as it seemed, by
mutual consent.

How lovely she looked! Sir Archibald saw it, and ground his teeth with a
kind of silent rage. She should have been his.

"Good-day, Mrs. Richard Pennroyal!"

"Good-day, Archibald!"

His name, coming with such gentleness and sweet familiarity from her lips,
made his blood tingle. He had expected coldness and formality.

"I had not looked forward to the honor of meeting you here," he said.

"But we have met here before, I think." And so they had, in days upon which
Archibald now looked back as does an exile upon home. His horse moved