On the other side of the gentleman we have mentioned appeared a younger lady, with her beautiful brown hair escaping in rich curls from a small black velvet cap, ornamented with a single black feather, and her face glowing with exercise. She was mounted on a light grey jennet, full of blood and spirit, but apparently well-trained and good-tempered, who, with head down and extended neck, snuffed at a low-legged spaniel dog, which, with open mouth and dropping tongue, lay looking in the face of its master. Near this group of falconers was seen a strong middle-aged man, kneeling down beside a dead heron, which lay upon the grassy bank, and fastening on a hood upon the head of a hawk, which he seemed to be caressing and scolding at the same time. "Ah, the haggard!" he cried, "ah, the haggard! thou art not half reclaimed, art thou? My Lord, she will be a magnificent bird next spring. Did you see that point she made at the pitch? and such a stoop!--There is not a bird in the mew could do better. I told you, sir, with her first feather.--Come, lady, come, no rustling.--Where's the other glove, boy?" he continued, addressing a young man, who, with two others, habited as falconers, stood near, with long poles in their hands, "There's another bird not far off, my Lord." "Ay, but here comes a boat," answered his master, "and they will put him up.--I thought so; there he goes--there he goes!--Slip Margery, my love!--Whoop! Sir Long Legs, whoop!--Off with her, off with her. Calm, good Margery, calm! She has him, now she has him." And off flew the falcon from the lady's hand; while the heron, apparently unwilling to tower, flapped its heavy wings along over the water, rippling it for some way with its feet. "After her, after her!" cried the gentleman; "the brute will show us no sport. As I live she will let Margery strike her in the water. No, no, there she goes up!--After her, after her;" and away he galloped, accompanied by the lady on the galloway, and the three lads with their poles. The younger lady paused, however, and reined in her jennet, notwithstanding all its struggles to follow the rest. Her eyes were fixed upon the boat, which, rowed by two stout men with the full current of the stream, now rapidly approached the spot where she was. The next minute she slipped from the saddle, her eyes bright, and her whole face glowing; and with the bridle over her left arm, approached the very brink of the water, holding out her hand, which in another instant was clasped in that of William Seymour. He sprang at once on shore; and, while Arabella strove to conceal from the eyes of the boatmen the joy that was in her heart, there was quite enough in her countenance to sweep away all jealousy for ever from the heart of her lover, if ever he entertained it. "Is this accident or design?" asked Arabella, in a low tone.--"It is very pleasant, Seymour, whatever it is.--But where have you been since?"