“But your wife was a Mrs. Liddell, was she not?”

“Yes.  This girl is her sister-in-law, really, but Mrs. Ormonde looks on her as a sister.”

“Hum!  She has the cash?  I suppose you know all about it?”

“Well, yes, you may be sure of sixty or seventy thousand, which would keep you going till Lord de Burgh joins the majority.”

“Yes, that might do; so ‘trot her out.’”

“She is coming to stay with us in a week or two, before the hunting is quite over, so you will be down here still.”

“I suspect I shall.  The lease of the lodge won’t be out till next September, and I may as well stay there as anywhere.”

“Katherine Liddell is quite unencumbered; she has neither father nor mother, nor near relation of any kind; in fact Mrs. Ormonde and myself are her next friends, and in a few weeks she will be of age.”

“All very favorable for her,” said De Burgh, in his careless, commanding way.  His tones were deep and harsh, and though unmistakably one of the “upper ten,” there was a degree of roughness in his style, which, however, did not prevent him from being rather a favorite with women, who always seemed to find his attentions peculiarly flattering.

“Come,” cried Ormonde, “let us push on.  I am getting chilled to the bone, and we are late enough already.”

He touched his horse with the spur, and both riders urged their steeds to a trot.  Turning a bend of the road, they came suddenly upon a young lady accompanied by two little boys, in smart velvet suits.  They were walking in the direction of Castleford—­walking so smartly that the smaller of the two boys went at a trot.  “Hullo!” cried Colonel Ormonde, pulling up for an instant.  “What are you doing here?  I hope the baby has not been out so late?”

“Baby has gone to drive with mother,” chorussed the boys eagerly, as if a little awed.

“All right!  Time you were home too,” and he spurred after De Burgh.

“Mrs. Ormonde’s boys?” asked the latter.

“Yes; have you never seen them?”

“I knew they existed, but I cannot say I ever beheld them before.”

“Oh, Mrs. Ormonde never bores people with her brats.”

“After they are out of infancy,” returned the other, dryly.

A remark which helped to “rile” Colonel Ormonde, and he said little more till they reached their destination, and both retired to enjoy the luxury of a bath before dressing for dinner.

John de Burgh was a distant relation of Ormonde’s, but having been thrown together a good deal, they seemed nearer of kin than they really were.  De Burgh was somewhat overbearing, and dominated Colonel Ormonde considerably.  He was also somewhat lawless by nature, hating restraint and intent upon his own pleasure.  The discipline of military life, light as it is to an officer, became intolerable to him when the excitement and danger of real warfare were past, and he resigned his commission to follow his own sweet will.