with a led horse. "I am going to leave you, Lionel," said the host, "to
make--friends with Mr. Fairthorn, and I thus complete, according to my
own original intention, the sentence which he diverted astray." He
passed across the hall to the open house-door, and stood by the horse,
stroking its neck and giving some directions to the groom. Lionel and
Fairthorn followed to the threshold, and the beauty of the horse provoked
the boy's admiration: it was a dark muzzled brown, of that fine old-
fashioned breed of English roadster which is now so seldom seen,--showy,
bownecked, long-tailed, stumbling, reedy hybrids, born of bad barbs, ill-
mated, having mainly supplied their place. This was, indeed, a horse of
great power, immense girth of loin, high shoulder, broad hoof; and such a
head! the ear, the frontal, the nostril! you seldom see a human
physiognomy half so intelligent, half so expressive of that high spirit
and sweet generous temper, which, when united, constitute the ideal of
thorough-breeding, whether in horse or man. The English rider was in
harmony with the English steed. Darrell at this moment was resting his
arm lightly on the animal's shoulder, and his head still uncovered. It
has been said before that he was, of imposing presence; the striking
attribute of his person, indeed, was that of unconscious grandeur; yet,
though above the ordinary height, he was not very tall-five feet eleven
at the utmost-and far from being very erect. On the contrary, there was
that habitual bend in his proud neck which men who meditate much and live
alone almost invariably contract. But there was, to use an expression
common with our older writers, that "great air" about him which filled
the eye, and gave him the dignity of elevated stature, the commanding
aspect that accompanies the upright carriage. His figure was inclined to
be slender, though broad of shoulder and deep of chest; it was the figure
of a young man and probably little changed from what it might have been
at five-and-twenty. A certain youthfulness still lingered even on the
countenance,--strange, for sorrow is supposed to expedite the work of