‘I had heard much of the forest,’ said Coningsby. ‘Which I am sure did not disappoint you,’ said the Duke. ‘But forests without adventures!’ said Lady Everingham, a little shrugging her pretty shoulders. ‘But I had an adventure,’ said Coningsby. ‘Oh! tell it us by all means!’ said the Lady, with great animation. ‘Adventures are my weakness. I have had more adventures than any one. Have I not had, Augustus?’ she added, addressing her husband. ‘But you make everything out to be an adventure, Isabel,’ said Lord Everingham. I dare say that Mr. Coningsby’s was more substantial.’ And looking at our young friend, he invited him to inform them. ‘I met a most extraordinary man,’ said Coningsby. ‘It should have been a heroine,’ exclaimed Lady Everingham. ‘Do you know anybody in this neighbourhood who rides the finest Arab in the world?’ asked Coningsby. ‘She is called “the Daughter of the Star,” and was given to her rider by the Pacha of Egypt.’ ‘This is really an adventure,’ said Lady Everingham, interested. ‘The Daughter of the Star!’ said Lady Theresa. ‘What a pretty name! Percy has a horse called “Sunbeam.”’ ‘A fine Arab, the finest in the world!’ said the Duke, who was fond of horse. ‘Who can it be?’ ‘Can you throw any light on this, Mr. Lyle?’ asked the Duchess of a young man who sat next her. He was a neighbour who had joined their dinner-party, Eustace Lyle, a Roman Catholic, and the richest commoner in the county; for he had succeeded to a great estate early in his minority, which had only this year terminated. ‘I certainly do not know the horse,’ said Mr. Lyle; ‘but if Mr. Coningsby would describe the rider, perhaps--’ ‘He is a man something under thirty,’ said Coningsby, ‘pale, with dark hair. We met in a sort of forest-inn during a storm. A most singular man! Indeed, I never met any one who seemed to me so clever, or to say such remarkable things.’ ‘He must have been the spirit of the storm,’ said Lady Everingham. ‘Charles Verney has a great deal of dark hair,’ said Lady Theresa. ‘But then he is anything but pale, and his eyes are blue.’ ‘And certainly he keeps his wonderful things for your ear, Theresa,’ said her sister. ‘I wish that Mr. Coningsby would tell us some of the wonderful things he said,’ said the Duchess, smiling. ‘Take a glass of wine first with my mother, Coningsby,’ said Henry Sydney, who had just finished helping them all to fish.