‘Not in the least,’ cried Nora, as she took the ribbons from Lady Bowmant’s hands. ‘Don’t hurry yourself on my account. I shall not mind waiting for you at all.’ ‘Thank you so much,’ replied her hostess, as, after having stroked the necks of her horses, and kissed their noses, she disappeared into the cottage. Nora was rather pleased to be left in sole charge. She had been longing to have a turn at the cobs herself. She had been watching Lady Bowmant’s actions very closely, and noticed with what ease she guided the little horses--how quickly they obeyed her voice and the touch of her hand; and had been wishing all the time to try driving them. She had never handled a tandem in her life before, but she was a plucky girl, and her very ignorance made her bold. So, as soon as Lady Bowmant had disappeared under the low roof of the cottage, she gathered up the reins, and gave the leader a slight flick with her whip. Belle felt the difference of the hands at once; she was not used to that sort of thing. The lash of the whip had fallen on her hind quarters, and she threw out her heels at once, and struck her stable companion, Beau, full in the face. Beau resented the action; he felt he hadn’t deserved it of Belle, the best part of whose work he had taken on himself all the morning; so he swerved a little aside, and then broke into a smart trot, which the coquettish Belle soon persuaded him to change into a canter, and in another moment, before their driver knew what they were after, the pair were tearing off in the direction of their stables as fast as ever they could lay their feet to the ground. Nora tugged and tugged at the reins without producing the slightest effect on them. She was very inexperienced, but she could not help seeing that the cobs were running away, and altogether beyond her control. She grew very pale; but she held on to the reins like grim death, and just managed to steer them clear of a donkey-cart which they seemed disposed to take in their stride. She began already to wonder what she should do when they came to the drive gates of Usk Hall, which curved sharply round to the left. They would assuredly bolt through them, she thought, and upset the dog-cart, in all probability, against the postern of the gate. Perhaps they would kill her from the collision and the fall. The thought that flashed through her mind at that juncture was, How would Ilfracombe take the news of her death?--what would he do without her? ‘I’m afraid I’m in for it,’ she said to herself. ‘It’s all up a tree with me. I’m bound for kingdom come, as sure as a gun.’