'It is my last day with the hounds. To-morrow my horses go to Tattersall's. And you have done us the honour of following the field to-day?' he added, as they rode slowly side by side. 'No--I only came to see them throw off, and am now riding home.' 'A pretty mare that of yours, and takes her fences like a bird, Goring told me.' 'I never engage in these sports that way now.' 'Why?' 'Because I am getting too old,' she replied, with a pretty demure expression. 'Old--is this a joke!' 'Besides, I must be careful of myself for little Nettie's sake. If aught happened to me----' 'You are an expert whip--here is a low hedge, and I shall be charmed to give you a lead.' 'Thanks--no; I would rather not.' How soldierly Tony Dalton looked, she was thinking, with his bronzed complexion, thoughtful, dark eyes, his dark shorn hair, and long moustache a shade darker, his erect and well-knit figure sitting well down in his saddle, his hunting-coat soiled and stained by service and exposure to the weather. 'Then you have seen enough of the sport?' said he. 'Quite, and am now taking the road homeward.' 'Permit me to escort you.' She bowed her assent. There was no reason why he should not do so, and an expression of triumph made her eyes sparkle, and then she asked-- 'Has Captain Goring utterly failed as yet to discover a trace of where Miss Cheyne has sailed to, or rather of where her father has taken her?' 'Yes--quite.' 'It is very singular--people don't disappear in that way now-a-days. Poor Goring; he is, I know, so passionately attached to her, but her father's opposition is so resolute that I think he should school himself----' 'To relinquish her? oh, no--we cannot control our love, Mrs. Trelawney--can we?' 'I think not.' 'If we could--if we could----' 'What a deal of trouble would be spared us in this world,' said she, laughing; 'but Sir Ranald Cheyne is, no doubt, still unaware that Captain Goring is now a very rich man, and will, I hear, remain in England for a little time yet.' 'A little time only; the transport awaits us at Southampton; we are all in readiness, and the order to march may come at any hour. This is the last time we may see each other,' he said, in a suddenly somewhat broken voice; 'and perhaps it is as well, Laura--I have seen too much of you--too much for my own peace.' 'Captain Dalton,' said she, looking him direct in the eyes, 'you have tried to woo me. I need not mince words or matters with you, but I have one question to ask.' 'Ask it,' said he, huskily. 'Are you at liberty to woo any woman honestly, honourably?' Dalton grew very pale, but he replied, evasively, 'I have loved against my will--against my conscience--though your very name should have repressed that love.' 'My name!' 'Your name of Laura.' The name left his lips, as she remarked it had done before, in an unwilling manner, as if it were familiar, yet most distasteful. 'Why?' she asked.