His first attempts were, perhaps, more ludicrous than passionate.  He was still too much an invalid to take walks, and Mary was therefore saved from his company in her rambles; but he had a horse of his own at Boxall Hill, and had been advised to ride by the doctor.  Mary also rode—­on a donkey only, it is true—­but Sir Louis found himself bound in gallantry to accompany her.  Mary’s steed had answered every expectations, and proved himself very quiet; so quiet, that without the admonition of a cudgel behind him, he could hardly be persuaded into the demurest trot.  Now, as Sir Louis’s horse was of a very different mettle, he found it rather difficult not to step faster than his inamorata; and, let it him struggle as he would, was generally so far ahead as to be debarred the delights of conversation.

When the second time he proposed to accompany her, Mary did what she could to hinder it.  She saw that he had been rather ashamed of the manner in which his companion was mounted, and she herself would have enjoyed the ride much more without him.  He was an invalid, however; it was necessary to make much of him, and Mary did not absolutely refuse the offer.

‘Lady Scatcherd,’ said he, as they were standing at the door previous to mounting—­he always called his mother Lady Scatcherd—­’why don’t you take a horse for Miss Thorne?  This donkey is—­is—­really is, so very—­very—­can’t go at all, you know?’

Lady Scatcherd began to declare that she would willing have got a pony if Mary would have let her do it.

’Oh, no, Lady Scatcherd; not on any account.  I do like the donkey so much—­I do indeed.’

‘But he won’t go,’ said Sir Louis.  ’And for a person who rides like you, Miss Thorne—­such a horsewoman you know—­why, you know, Lady Scatcherd, it’s positively ridiculous; d——­ absurd, you know.’

And then, with an angry look at his mother, he mounted his horse, and was soon leading the way down the avenue.

‘Miss Thorne,’ said he, pulling himself up at the gate, ’if I had known that I was to be so extremely happy as to have found you here, I would have brought you down the most beautiful creature, an Arab.  She belongs to my friend Jenkins; but I wouldn’t have stood at any price in getting her for you.  By Jove! if you were on that mare, I’d back you, for style and appearance, against anything in Hyde Park.’

The offer of this sporting wager, which naturally would have been very gratifying to Mary, was lost upon her, for Sir Louis had again unwittingly got on in advance, but he stopped himself in time to hear Mary again declare her passion was a donkey.

’If you could only see Jenkins’s little mare, Miss Thorne!  Only say one word, and she shall be down here before the week’s end.  Price shall be no obstacle—­none whatever.  By Jove, what a pair you would be!’

This generous offer was repeated four or five times; but on each occasion Mary only half heard what was said, and on each occasion the baronet was far too much in advance to hear Mary’s reply.  At last he recollected that he wanted to call on one of his tenants, and begged his companion to allow him to ride on.