‘Oh----’ said Janet. But someone just then appeared on the road, and Blackmore took off his hat and hurried away. The girl was much disturbed by this encounter, but there was something in the little mystery of it that pleased her. She went on to Dalrulzian with her heart beating a little, thinking that Mr. Charlie was very kind. He was a man much older than Tom--almost twice as old. And he was a handsome fellow in his velvet coat, with a blue tie which was very becoming, and blue eyes which seemed to say a great many things which confused Janet. Next day she went out for a little along that quiet road with a faint expectation, wondering if perhaps--it might be possible? and lo, there was Charlie on horseback leading the most charming pony. He jumped off his horse when he saw her, and fastening it to a tree, showed her all the beauties of the other. ‘What ails ye to jump on,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take ye for a ride, not far, nothing to tire you?’ ‘Oh, I am not so easily tired,’ said Janet, her eyes lighting up, ‘but I have no habit--and then mother----’ ‘Her ladyship will be none the wiser,’ said Charlie, ‘and she knows I would take good care of you. She would never mind.’ ‘Do you think so?’ said the girl. And in a moment--it seemed but a moment--she was pacing along by the side of the big horse, every movement of which was restrained to harmony with her pony’s smaller paces. Janet had been Tom’s victim to follow at his pace--to do what he pleased. She had never before known the delight of being cared for, considered as the first object. She rode for an hour by Blackmore’s side, excited, delighted, half persuaded that she was a fairy princess, with everything that was beautiful and pleasant made for her use. This happened again and again, and nobody found it out. It was thought at the Towers that she had taken to wandering in the woods in her loneliness now that Tom had gone away, and though Lady Car remarked a changing colour, and that Janet’s eyes sometimes were bright and sometimes dreamy, yet nothing like suspicion of any secret ever crossed her mind. No such thing entered the mind of anyone. And already the household was full of preparations for going away, which absorbed everybody. The first of October was the last day before the departure of the family from the Towers, and Janet stole out unobserved as usual, for her last ride. Never had the pony carried her so lightly; never had the little escapade been so delightful: they came back slowly side by side, lingering, unwilling to acknowledge that it was over. ‘I’ll keep the pony for you, Miss Janet,’ said Blackmore. ‘Nobody shall touch her but myself. She shall be kept like a lady, like the bonnie lady she belongs to, till you come back.’ ‘Oh, but Mr. Charlie,’ cried Janet, ‘you must not do that. They would not let me buy her, and I’ll have no money of my own for a long time--not for five years.’