“There’s an old bay that would carry me very well.”

“That is my own horse, Mr. Sutherland.”

This stopped the conversation in that direction.  But next morning after breakfast, an excellent chestnut horse was waiting at the door, along with Harry’s new pony.  Mr. Arnold would see them go off.  This did not exactly suit Miss Cameron, but if she frowned, it was when nobody saw her.  Hugh put Harry up himself, told him to stick fast with his knees, and then mounted his chestnut.  As they trotted slowly down the avenue, Euphrasia heard Mr. Arnold say to himself, “The fellow sits well, at all events.”  She took care to make herself agreeable to Hugh by reporting this, with the omission of the initiatory epithet, however.

Harry returned from his ride rather tired, but in high spirits.

“Oh, Euphra!” he cried, “Mr. Sutherland is such a rider!  He jumps hedges and ditches and everything.  And he has promised to teach me and my pony to jump too.  And if I am not too tired, we are to begin to-morrow, out on the common.  Oh! jolly!”

The little fellow’s heart was full of the sense of growing life and strength, and Hugh was delighted with his own success.  He caught sight of a serpentine motion in Euphra’s eyebrows, as she bent her face again over the work from which she had lifted it on their entrance.  He addressed her.

“You will be glad to hear that Harry has ridden like a man.”

“I am glad to hear it, Harry.”

Why did she reply to the subject of the remark, and not to the speaker?  Hugh perplexed himself in vain to answer this question; but a very small amount of experience would have made him able to understand at once as much of her behaviour as was genuine.  At luncheon she spoke only in reply; and then so briefly, as not to afford the smallest peg on which to hang a response.

“What can be the matter?” thought Hugh.  “What a peculiar creature she is!  But after what has passed between us, I can’t stand this.”

When dinner was over that evening, she rose as usual and left the room, followed by Hugh and Harry; but as soon as they were in the drawing-room, she left it; and, returning to the dining-room, resumed her seat at the table.

“Take a glass of claret, Euphra, dear?” said Mr. Arnold.

“I will, if you please, uncle.  I should like it.  I have seldom a minute with you alone now.”

Evidently flattered, Mr. Arnold poured out a glass of claret, rose and carried it to his niece himself, and then took a chair beside her.

“Thank you, dear uncle,” she said, with one of her bewitching flashes of smile.

“Harry has been getting on bravely with his riding, has he not?” she continued.

“So it would appear.”