summer sun, but with little colour in the cheeks; and what there was,
only the pale pink glow like a wild rose, called up for the moment
by warmth and exercise, and soon to pass away. Still there was no
appearance of want of health; the skin was of a clear, soft, fresh shade
of brown; the large dark eyes, in spite of all their depth of melancholy
softness, had the wild, untamed animation of a mountaineer; the face and
form were full of free life and vigour, as she sat erect and perfectly
at ease on her spirited little bay pony, which at times seemed so lively
that it might have been matter of surprise to a stranger that so young a
horsewoman should be trusted on its back.

Her companion was a youth some ten or eleven years her senior,
possessing a handsome set of regular features, with a good deal of
family likeness to hers; dark eyes and hair, and a figure which, though
slight, was rather too tall to look suitable to the small, stout, strong
pony which carried him and his numerous equipments, consisting of a long
rod-case, a fishing-basket and landing-net, in accordance with the lines
of artificial flies wreathed round his straw hat, and the various oddly
contrived pockets of his grey shooting-coat.

In the distance at the end of the lane there appeared two walking
figures. "Mrs. Wortley!" exclaimed the young lady.

"No, surely not out so soon!" was the answer. "She is in the depth of
lessons."

"No, but Edmund, it is, look, and Agnes too! There, Ranger has better
eyes than you; he is racing to them."

"Well, I acknowledge my mistake," said Edmund, drawing up his rein as