As he spoke, Harry again impatiently flirted the whip over the ears of “My old Aunt Sally,” an indignity which excited the fiery disposition of that highly-descended quadruped, who, throwing up her head and tail, flinging out her fore feet, as though she were sparring with the distance her speed must overcome, and altogether looking her very handsomest, dashed up to the group of pedestrians so suddenly as to cause the two ladies to draw back in alarm; while even the redoubtable Horace himself sprang out of the way with a degree of alacrity which evinced a stronger regard for his personal safety than might have been expected from so heroic a character. For this sacrifice of dignity to the first law of nature, self-preservation, he endeavoured to compensate himself by stroking his moustaches, and staring superciliously at the new comers. While Hazlehurst, who sprang down the moment the dog-cart stopped, was exchanging greetings with his cousin and sister, Harry was left undisturbed to make his observations on the trio to whom he was about to be introduced. The elder of the two young ladies, who responded to the definition, “My cousin, Miss Kate Marsden,” was above the middle height, and of a singularly graceful figure; her features were delicately formed and regular, her complexion pale, but clear, her hair and eyes dark, the latter being large and expressive, her hands and feet small, and her whole bearing and appearance refined and aristocratic in the extreme; but her features bore a look of proud reserve, which interfered with the effect which her beauty would otherwise have produced--an inscrutable look, which seemed to say, “I have a peculiar and decided character, but I defy you to read it.” It is of no use to attempt to describe Alice Hazlehurst, for the simple reason that no description could convey an adequate idea of her. Not that she was anything particularly wonderful; she was not even a miracle of beauty--she was only about the best thing this fallen world of ours contains--a bright, high-spirited, pure, simple, true-hearted, lovely, and loveable young girl, just emerging into graceful womanhood; very shy, slightly romantic, full of kindly sympathies and generous impulses, which she concealed as carefully as bad men hide unpopular vices, and with all the deep and noble qualities of her woman’s nature, as well as, alas! its faults and foibles, lying dormant within her, either to be developed in their full completeness, or dwarfed into comparative insignificance, as the hands into which she might fall should prove fitted or unfitted to the great, yet enviable, responsibility of forming her character. As Hazlehurst leapt down, she sprang forward to meet him; then drew back from his hearty embrace with a smile and a blush, which very unnecessarily made her appear prettier than before, to acknowledge, with a bow, her introduction to her brother’s friend.