“My husband has been sent for to town, Captain Traf-ford,” said she, turning her head towards him as he resumed his place at her side; “the Chief Baron desires to see him immediately, and he sets off at once.” “And his race? What 's to become of his match?” “He said I was to ask you to ride for him.” “Me--I ride! Why, I am two stone heavier than he is.” “I suppose he knew that,” said she, coldly, and as if the matter was one of complete indifference to her. “I am only delivering a message,” continued she, in the same careless tone; “he said, 'Ask Captain Trafford to ride for me and take up my book; 'I was to be particular about the phrase 'take up;' I conclude you will know what meaning to attach to it.” “I suspect I do,” said he, with a low soft laugh. “And I was to add something about hints he was to give you, if you 'd go round to his dressing-room at once; indeed, I believe you have little time to spare.” “Yes, I'll go,--I 'll go now; only there 's one thing I 'd like to ask--that is--I'd be very glad to know--” “What is it?” said she, after a pause, in which his confusion seemed to increase with every minute. “I mean, I should like to know whether you wished me to ride this race or not?” “Whether _I_ wished it?” said she, in a tone of astonishment. “Well, whether you cared about the matter one way or other?” replied he, in still deeper embarrassment. “How could it concern me, my dear Captain Trafford?” said she, with an easy smile; “a race never interests me much, and I 'd just as soon see Blue and Orange come in as Yellow and Black; but you 'll be late if you intend to see my husband; I think you 'd better make haste.” “So I will, and I 'll be back immediately,” said he, not sorry to escape a scene where his confusion was now making him miserable. “You _are_ a very nice horse!” said she, patting the animal's neck, as he chafed to dash off after the other. “I 'd like very much to own you; that is, if I ever was to call anything my own.” “They 're clearing the course, Mrs. Sewell,” said one of her companions, riding up; “we had better turn off this way, and ride down to the stand.” “Here's a go!” cried another, coming up at speed. “Big Trafford is going to ride Crescy; he 's well-nigh fourteen stone.” “Not thirteen: I 'll lay a tenner on it.” “He can ride a bit,” said a third. “I 'd rather he 'd ride his own horse than mine.” “Sewell knows what he 's about, depend on 't.” “That's his wife,” whispered another; “I'm certain she heard you.” Mrs. Sewell turned her head as she cantered along, and, in the strange smile her features wore, seemed to confirm the speaker's words; but the hurry and bustle of the moment drowned all sense of embarrassment, and the group dashed onward to the stand. Leaving that heaving, panting, surging tide of humanity for an instant, let us turn to the house, where Sewell was already engaged in preparing for the road.