“Indeed!  If I must know what it is, you must, by the same rule, know what I will say in reply.  Let us consider the thing said and answered, and then your business call can be one of pleasure.”

“I had hoped that it might possibly be one of pleasure.”

The girl, looked grave for a moment, and then turning in her best manner to her escort—­

“Mr. Thorndyke, I think I had better tell you the little story of my horse.  If we ride slow, I will have time before we reach the gate.”  With a little increase of color, “It is not much of a story, but you may see a little moral in it.”

“Certainly, I shall be glad to hear it.  No doubt it will interest me.”

“You see his name is Prince.”

“I hear that is his name.”

“You will see presently that is not his whole name.”

“Silvertail?”

“Silver-sticks!  Please attend, sir.  His name is Prince Arthur.”

“Named after a gentleman who lived a few years ago; who dined off ’a table round,’ and who was thought to be unfortunate in his lady.”

“No, sir.  He was named for a man who may have been called after that personage; and whose life shows that the old legend may have been true, and this Arthur is not unfortunate in his lady,” with a softening voice, and deepening blush on her averted face.

“Have you never heard the story of the lost girl? who less than a year ago, bewildered and distracted, wandered away into the endless woods, in the night, mid darkness and storm; and who, o’ercome with fright and weariness and cold, lay down to die, and was covered over with snow; and that a young man with strength and courage, was conducted by God to her rescue, and carried her over an icy stream, and revived and restored her to her father and mother.  Did you ever hear of that?” Her voice was low, deep, and earnest.  He bowed.

“My father gave him this horse, and he gave him to me, and I gave him that young man’s name.  Prince is a prince among horses, and that youth is a prince among men,” proudly, and with increasing color.

“I thought that young man’s name was Bart Ridgeley,” very much disgusted.

“Arthur Barton Ridgeley.  Prince bears his first name, and he bears me;” lowering her voice and turning away.

“A very pleasant arrangement, no doubt,” querulously.

“Very pleasant to me,” very sweetly.

“It seems to me I have heard something else about this Arthur Barton Ridgeley, Esq.; and not quite so much to his credit.”  Oh dear!  But then he was hardly responsible.

“I presume you have.  And you heard it with the same ears with which you hear everything disconnected with your precious self.  Were their acuteness equal to their length, you would also have heard, that in this, as in everything else, he was true and noble.”  The voice was shaken a little by two or three emotions, and tears sprang to her eyes and dried there.