"Never to have heard of Markham--the Koran of this savage tribe--the most celebrated author on farriery!" she cried. "Then I fear you are equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?" "I am, indeed, Miss Vernon," answered Frank, meekly. "And do you not blush to own it?" she cried. "Why, we will disown the alliance. Then I suppose you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a horn?" "I confess," said Frank, "I trust all these matters to my groom." "Incredible carelessness!" she continued. "What was your father thinking of? And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail. Or worm a dog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk or give him casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed! Or--" Frank could only once for all profess his utter ignorance of all such accomplishments. "Then in the name of Heaven, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, what _can_ you do?" "Very little to the purpose, I am afraid, Miss Vernon," answered Frank; "only this--when my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and when my hawk is in the field, I can fly him." "Can you do this?" said Die Vernon, setting her horse to a rude gate composed of pieces of wood from the forest, and clearing it at a bound. In a moment Frank was at her side. "There are hopes for you yet," she said. "I was afraid that you were a very degenerate Osbaldistone. But what brings you to Cub Hall? I suppose you could have stayed away if you had liked?" "The Cubs of the Hall may be as you describe them," said Frank, looking at his companion, "but I am convinced there is one exception that will make amends for all their deficiencies." "Oh, you mean Rashleigh!" said Die Vernon. "Indeed, I do not," said Frank, who had not been four years in France for nothing, "I never even heard of Rashleigh. I mean some one very much nearer me." "I suppose I should pretend not to understand you," she answered, "but that is not my way. If I were not in the saddle, I would make you a courtesy. But seriously, I deserve your exception, for besides Rashleigh and the old priest, I am the only conversable being about Osbaldistone Hall." "And who, for Heaven's sake, is Rashleigh?" "Your youngest cousin, about your own age, but not so--so well-looking. Full of natural sense--learned, as being bred to the church, but in no hurry to take orders--and in addition by all odds the cleverest man in a country where such are scarce." They rode back to the Hall, but as it was some time before Frank could get any one to attend to his own horse and Diana's mare, which she had left in his charge, he had time to look about him and take in the old castle and its rough, wasteful prodigality of service. By and by, however, there arrived Sir Hildebrand, who, among his sons, seemed, by comparison at least, both intelligent and a gentleman. He gave Frank a rough but hearty welcome to his mansion.