Lord Hawbury was riding by the carriage as the Baron came up.

“Hallo!” said he to the former.  “How do? and how are you all?  Why, I’ve been hunting all over creation.  Well, Minnie, how goes it?  Feel lively?  That’s right.  Keep out in the open air.  Take all the exercise you can, and eat as hard as you can.  You live too quiet as a general thing, and want to knock around more.  But we’ll fix all that, won’t we, Min, before a month of Sundays?”

The advent of the Baron in this manner, and his familiar address to Minnie, filled Hawbury with amazement.  He had been surprised at finding him with the ladies on the previous day, but there was nothing in his demeanor which was at all remarkable.  Now, however, he noticed the very great familiarity of his tone and manner toward Minnie, and was naturally amazed.  The Baron had not confided to him his secret, and he could not understand the cause of such intimacy between the representatives of such different classes.  He therefore listened with inexpressible astonishment to the Baron’s language, and to Minnie’s artless replies.

Minnie was sitting on the front seat of the barouche, and was alone in that seat.  As the gentlemen rode on each side of the carriage her face was turned toward them.  Hawbury rode back, so that he was beside Lady Dalrymple; but the Baron rode forward, on the other side, so as to bring himself as near to Minnie as possible.  The Baron was exceedingly happy.  His happiness showed itself in the flush of his face, in the glow of his eyes, and in the general exuberance and all-embracing swell of his manner.  His voice was loud, his gestures demonstrative, and his remarks were addressed by turns to each one in the company.  The others soon gave up the attempt to talk, and left it all to the Baron.  Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby exchanged glances of despair.  Hawbury still looked on in surprise, while Minnie remained perfectly calm, perfectly self-possessed, and conversed with her usual simplicity.

As the party thus rode on they met a horseman, who threw a rapid glance over all of them.  It was Girasole.  The ladies bowed, and Mrs. Willoughby wished that he had come a little before, so that he could have taken the place beside the carriage where the Baron now was.  But the place was now appropriated, and there was no chance for the Count.  Girasole threw a dark look over them, which rested more particularly on Hawbury.  Hawbury nodded lightly at the Count, and didn’t appear to take any further notice of him.  All this took up but a few moments, and the Count passed on.

Shortly after they met another horseman.  He sat erect, pale, sad, with a solemn, earnest glow in his melancholy eyes.  Minnie’s back was turned toward him, so that she could not see his face, but his eyes were fixed upon Mrs. Willoughby.  She looked back at him and bowed, as did also Lady Dalrymple.  He took off his hat, and the carriage rolled past.  Then he turned and looked after it, bareheaded, and Minnie caught sight of him, and smiled and bowed.  And then in a few moments more the crowd swallowed up Scone Dacres.