a thoroughbred English horse, which she managed with so easy a grace
that Maltravers halted in involuntary admiration. He himself was a
consummate horseman, and he had the quick eye of sympathy for those who
shared the accomplishment. He thought, as he gazed, that he had never
seen but one woman whose air and mien on horseback were so full of that
nameless elegance which skill and courage in any art naturally
bestow--that woman was Valerie de Ventadour. Presently, to his great
surprise, the lady advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and
said, in a voice which he did not at first distinctly recognise--" Is it
possible?--do I see Mr. Maltravers?"

She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest
beheld--Madame de Ventadour! By this time a tall, thin gentleman had
joined the Frenchwoman.

"Has /madame/ met with an acquaintance?" said he; "and, if so, will she
permit me to partake her pleasure?"

The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;--she smiled and coloured.

"Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers. Mr. Maltravers, this is my
host, Lord Doningdale."

The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the trio,
and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited
Maltravers to return with the party to his house, which was about four
miles distant. As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the
invitation. The cavalcade proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an
explanation from Valerie. It was soon given. Madame de Ventadour had a
younger sister, who had lately married a son of Lord Doningdale. The