Placed above the mass of his profession by education, and somewhat by birth, Clifdon was, of course, to many, an object of jealousy; and although none dared to come forward singly, all willingly encouraged and sided with their comrade. “We look sad to-night, gallant Captain Ned,” he said, advancing again with an affected shuffle and a sidelong movement. “Are we in love, or in debt; or has the pretty bird that we lock up so carefully flown off to a golden cage?” “Peace,” said Clifdon, turning toward his tormentor with so black a frown that he started and changed countenance. “Peace, fool!” “You have given me my title,” said the other, with a mock bow and a smile where rage and malice badly counterfeited mirth. “_I_ am not ashamed of my profession, handsome Captain Ned.” “Come, come,” said a third, advancing slowly, “stand back Tom,” to the clown, “the captain and I have some business matters to arrange.” “Ay, ay,” said the person addressed, with a significant wink; and crossing the room by a succession of somersets, he disappeared through the opposite door. The last comer was a short and slightly-built man, clad from head to foot in buck-skin, save for the scarlet and gold garment that girded around his waist, was fastened at each knee by a garter and clasp of some brilliant material. His hair, instead of flowing in the long, loose curls affected by most of his companions, had been shorn close to the head, leaving exposed the low and sensual formation of the forehead, and the large ears, that, flapping and shapeless, hung forward like those of an animal. The flat nose, the high cheek-bones; the thick and habitually up-curved lips, the small, gray eye lurking beneath its over-hanging brow, and, above all, the extraordinary length of the arms, gave to this remarkable person more the appearance of a species of the monkey tribe than of a human being. “The money, Ned; I swear I will wait no longer.” “To-morrow,” said Clifdon, hoarsely, and bending as if to tighten the saddle-girth. “On your word?” repeated Brendon, for it was he, with a glance of incredulity. “Ay—begone!” The other turned upon his heel with a prolonged whistle, and Clifdon, vaulting into the saddle, awaited the signal for his appearance. CHAPTER II. Once, twice, thrice around the ring on the flying steed, with foot scarce resting on the gilded saddle, and hand from which the silken rein hung slack and unguiding. And with clapping and shouts of admiration the people hailed their favorite, who bowed, and raised his plumed cap, and smiled as though no breath of care or passion had ever dimmed the lustre of his sparkling beauty. Again, again around the ring, and with a bound over the light barrier, White Fleeta and her rider disappeared amid the vociferous plaudits of the crowd; and springing from the saddle, Clifdon flung himself upon a chair, panting and exhausted, with his lips working, and his hands clasped upon his closed eyes.