"I suppose you are kept very much in the house with your--pupil?" asked Wilton. "Sometimes; he has been very unwell since I came back. But he has a pony-carriage, and he drives about, and I drive it occasionally; but it pains him to walk, poor fellow! He is interested in some things. He wished much to see you and hear about the Crimea and India." "I am sure," cried Wilton, with great readiness, "I should be most happy to see him or contribute to his amusement--pray tell him so from me." "No, I cannot," with a shake of the head; "Lady Fergusson is so very good she thinks everything wrong; and to walk upon a country-road with a great man like you would be worse than wrong--it would be shocking!" Wilton could not refrain from laughing at the droll gravity of her tone, though in some indefinable way it piqued and annoyed him. "Well, they are all out of the way--they have driven over to A----. Have they not?" "Yes, and therefore there was no one to send to Monkscleugh to choose some prints that Donald wanted very much for a screen we are making, so I went." "And so at last I had the pleasure of meeting you. I had begun to fear I should never have a chance of asking if you had recovered from your fright; for though no woman could have shown more pluck, you must have been frightened." "I was, indeed, and I do not think I am naturally brave; but I must bid you good-morning--my way lies through the plantations." "No, no! you must not send me adrift--are we not comrades? We have faced danger together; and I am sure you are not influenced by Lady Fergusson's views." "Lady Fergusson! pooh!" There was wonderful, airy, becoming grace in the pant which seemed to blow defiance like a kiss to the immaculate Lady Fergusson. "Nevertheless, I must say good-by, for your horse could not get through that." She pointed to a small swing-gate, which led from the road to a path across a piece of rough heath-grown ground, between the road and the woods. "Do you forbid me to escort you farther?" said Wilton, quickly. She thought an instant. "Were I going to walk along the road I should not," the faintest color stealing over her cheek as she spoke; "it is pleasant to talk with a new person sometimes, but I cannot alter my route." Wilton laughed, and, mounting rapidly, rode to the farther side of the wide waste border, where there was almost a small common; rousing up his horse he rushed him at the fence separating Sir Peter's land from the road, and landed safely within the boundary just as his companion passed through the gate. She gave a slight suppressed scream, and as he again dismounted and joined her she looked very pale. "How could you be so foolish as to do so!" she exclaimed, almost angry. "You have frightened me." "I am extremely sorry, but you can know little of country-life; any man accustomed to hunt, and tolerably mounted, could have done as much."