"'Tis so funny to hear dear father tell all men about his wonderful system of teaching; while the sober truth is that you have taught me what I know," she answered. "Father rides well enough and with the courage of a lion; but you--I love to hear them talk of it. Sir Thomas and the rest declare that you have the most perfect style on Dartmoor. Father has to thank you for much. You nurse his second horse marvellously." "He is always most generous with his praise--and his half-guineas. I hate to take them," replied John. Grace Malherb got her first brush in November. Then came a day when circumstances so fell out that she went to a meet with Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt and the house party from Tor Royal. Upon this occasion Mr. Malherb had business in Exeter and he rode thither at dawn with John Lee. It was understood that Grace might spend the night with friends at Holne, some miles from Fox Tor Farm. An incident trivial in itself needs this much of elaboration, since mighty matters sprang from it. Maurice Malherb, his business of purchasing a new hunter happily completed, set off homeward in good spirits; while John Lee followed, riding his own horse and leading the new one. Upon his return the master found that Grace had not come home; while John Lee, perceiving the night to be clear and lit by the moon, determined once again to keep a vigil for Lovey. He tumbled into bed soon after eight o'clock, slept soundly for three hours, then, as he had often done of late, arose, dressed in his thickest attire, left the loft wherein he lived and crept out of the house. Slipping from a side door, John was startled to hear footsteps, and, peeping cautiously over a gate that led to the stable-yard, he saw his master, booted and spurred. A moment later Maurice Malherb led a saddled horse from the stable, mounted it and cantered away. John kept invisible until the other was gone; then, full of wonder at a circumstance quite beyond his experience, he left the farm and entered the Moor. The moon shone clearly, and there was frost in the air. Dew glimmered grey upon the dying herbage; and below in the valley waters murmured softly from a dense cloud of silver mist that hid them.