Frank Vanderlyn had looked somewhat sullenly on and scarcely said a word, since his coming up. But at this speech of his sister's he must have felt that the dignity of the Vanderlyn family was again in serious peril, for he put his mouth close to her ear and spoke some words that were heard by no other than herself. They could not have been very satisfactory or convincing, for Horace Townsend, and others as well, heard her say in reply: "Brother, your horse is dangerous--you said so yourself; so just be good enough to ride as you did before, and my friends here will take care of me." Whereupon the young man went back to his horse, looking a little discomfited and by no means in the best of humors. Such little accidents _will_ occur, sometimes, to mar the best-laid schemes of careful mothers or anxious brothers, for preserving the ultra-respectability of a family; and whether the origin of the intervention is in heaven or its opposite, there is nothing to be done in such cases but to look wronged and unhappy, as did Frank Vanderlyn, or smile over the accomplished mischief and pretend that the event is rather agreeable than otherwise, as persons of more experience than Frank have often had occasion to do at different periods during the current century. The result of all this was that Horace Townsend really rode down with Clara Vanderlyn in the mere capacity of an esquire, while Halstead Rowan assumed the spurs and the authority of the knight. The latter rode in advance of her, as near her bridle-rein as the roughness of the path would allow; and no one need to question the fact that _he_ kept his eyes on the young girl quite steadily enough to secure her safety! What difficulty was there in his doing so, when he had already proved that he could ride backward nearly as well as forward and that the footing of his horse was the least thought in his mind? They seemed to be conversing, too, a large proportion of the time; and there is no doubt that Halstead Rowan, carried away by the events of the day, uttered words that he might have long delayed or never spoken under other circumstances,--and that Clara Vanderlyn wore that sweet flush upon her face and kept that timid but happy trembling of the dewy under-lip, much more constantly than she had ever before done in her young life. Horace Townsend, who rode behind the lady, did not hear any of those peculiar words which passed between her and her companion; and had _we_ heard them they would certainly not be made public in this connection.