And, in spite of short answers, he continued to press his proposal upon the unwilling Scot, till Campbell had very unceremoniously to extricate himself from his grip, telling him that he was travelling upon his own private business, and that he could not unite himself to any stranger on the public highway. The next day Frank approached Osbaldistone Hall, which stood under the great rounded range of the Cheviot Hills. He could already see it standing, stark and grey, among its ancestral oaks, when down the ravine streamed a band of huntsmen in full chase, the fox going wearily before, evidently near the end of his tether. Among the rout and nearer to Frank than the others, owing to some roughness of the ground, rode a young lady in a man's coat and hat--which, with her vest and skirt, made the first riding-habit Frank had ever seen. The girl's cheeks were bright with the exercise. Her singular beauty was the more remarkable, chanced upon in so savage a scene. And when, after hearing the "Whoop--dead!" which told of poor Reynard's decease, she paused to tie up her loosened locks, Master Frank stared most undisguisedly and even impolitely. One of the young huntsmen, clad in red and green, rode towards her, waving the brush in his hand as if in triumph over the girl. "I see," she replied, "I see. But make no noise about it. If Phoebe here (patting the neck of her mare) had not got among the cliffs, _you_ would have had little cause for boasting." Then the two of them looked at Frank and spoke together in a low tone. The young man seemed sheepishly to decline some proposal which the girl made to him. "Then if you won't, Thornie," she said at last, "I must." And turning to Frank she asked him if he had seen anything of a friend of theirs, one Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, who for some days past had been expected at the Hall. Frank instantly and gladly claimed kindred. "Then," said the girl, smiling, "as this young man's politeness seems to have fallen asleep, I must e'en be master of the ceremonies, however improper it may be. So I beg to present to you young Squire Thorncliff Osbaldistone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, your accomplished cousin's poor kinswoman." The "accomplished cousin" finally decided to shake hands with mingled awkwardness and an assumption of sulky indifference. This being done, he immediately announced his intention of going to help the huntsmen couple up the hounds, and so he took himself off. "There he goes," said the young lady, following him with disdainful eyes, "the prince of grooms and cock-fighters and blackguard horse-racers. But truly there is not one of them to mend another!" She turned sharply upon Frank. "Have you read Markham?" she demanded. Poor Frank had never even heard of that author. The girl held up her hands in horror.