He said only these two words, but they broke up his face as if there was music in them; for he smiled with his lips and his eyes at the same time. Kate glanced down at him as he walked by her side. She saw that he was tall, finely formed, and had a handsome face; that he was well dressed, and had an air of distinction; and yet she divined in some occult way that this animal young beauty was only the husk of his being. After a few moments' silence, he began that commonplace chat about horses which in Yorkshire takes the place that weather does in other localities. He praised the beauty and docility of Candace, and Kate hoped she was walking slowly enough; and then Cecil North admired her feet and her step, and asked if she ever stumbled or tripped. This question brought forth an eager denial of any such fault, and an opinion that the rider was to blame when such an accident happened. "In a general way, you are right, Miss Atheling," answered North. "If the rider sits just and upright, then any sudden jerk forward throws the shoulders backward; and in that case, if a horse thinks proper to fall, _he_ will be the sufferer. He may cut his forehead, or hurt his nose, or bark his knees, but he will be a buffer to his rider." "Candace has never tripped with me. I have had her four years. I will never part with her." "That is right. Don't keep a horse you dislike, and don't part with one that suits you." "Do you love horses?" "Yes. A few years ago I was all for horses. I could sit anything. I could jump everything, right and left. I had a horse then that was made to measure, and foaled to order. No one borrowed him twice. He had a way of coming home without a rider. But I have something better than horses to care for now; and all I need is a good roadster." "My father likes an Irish cob for that purpose." "Nothing better. I have one in the village that beats all. He can trot fourteen miles an hour, and take a six-foot wall at the end of it." "Do you ride much?" "I ride all over England." She looked curiously at him, but asked no questions; and North continued the conversation by pointing out to her the several points which made Candace so valuable. "In the first place," he said, "her colour is good,--that dark chestnut shaded with black usually denotes speed. She has all the signs of a thoroughbred; do you know them?" "No; but I should like to." "They are three things long,--long ears, long neck, and long forelegs. Three things short,--short dock, short back, and short hindlegs. Three things broad,--broad forehead, broad chest, and broad croup. Three things clean,--clean skin, clean eyes, and clean hoofs. Then the nostrils must be quite black. If there had been any white in the nostrils of Candace, I would have ranked her only 'middling.'"