Less occupied by interest in the hunt than with each other, Bevil Goring and Miss Cheyne had gradually dropped out of it, and at the time of the conversation with which this chapter opens were riding slowly along a narrow green lane that led--they had not yet begun to consider in what precise direction. CHAPTER II. AT CHILCOTE. 'The hounds threw off at half-past eleven, and the afternoon is far advanced,' said Miss Cheyne, with a little anxiety of manner. 'I must take the nearest cut home.' 'Thither, of course, I shall do myself the honour of escorting you.' 'Thanks--so much.' She could not say otherwise, as she could neither decline his escort nor with propriety ride home alone; yet she gave a glance rather helplessly around her, as all her immediate friends--and one more especially, whose escort her father wished her to have had--were now left miles behind, having 'come to grief' at the first fence, and were now she knew not where. But then she thought it was not her fault that they had dropped out of the hunt, or out of their saddles perhaps. 'To reach the high-road, we must take this fence,' said Captain Goring, finding that the narrow lane they had pursued, ended in a species of _cul de sac_. 'Not a gap, not a gate is in sight.' 'And by Jove, Miss Cheyne, it is a rasper!' he exclaimed. 'Allow me to go first, then follow, head up and hand low.' He measured the distance, cleared the fence, and came safely down on the hard road beyond. With a little cry of half delight and half terror curiously mingled, the girl rushed her horse at the fence, but barely cleared it, as its hoofs touched the summit. 'What a nasty buck jump,' said Goring. 'Is that an Irish horse, used to double fences, I wonder?' 'And all my back-hair has come down.' 'Glorious hair it is, below your waist and more.' 'And all my own,' said the girl laughing, as she placed her switch between her pearly teeth, and with her gauntleted hands proceeded to knot the coils deftly up; 'all my own, by production, and not by purchase. And now for home,' she added, as they broke into an easy trot. 'Such a hard mouth this animal has!' she exclaimed, after a pause; 'my poor wrists are quite weary.' 'Why do you ride him?' 'I have not much choice.' 'How?' 'I owe my mount to the kindness of a friend of papa's, to Lord Cadbury,' she replied, colouring slightly, but with an air of annoyance. 'Indeed,' said Goring, briefly, and then after a pause, he added, 'you have ridden with these hounds before.' 'Yes, once when the meet was at Iver's Heath, and again when it was at Wokingham, and the deer was caught in a pond near Wilton Park.' 'And did Lord Cadbury on each occasion give you a mount?' he added, in a casual manner.