"Oh," said the pale bride, "it is kind of you to say that! But you ought to say he is to be pitied, when I behave in this weak way! I am usually quite a good walker." Caunter fixed his eyes intently upon the quickly changing colour, and marked the faltering voice. "I've got my flask in my pocket," he said hesitatingly to Gaunt, who nodded and held out his hand. "A thimbleful of brandy will be the best thing for you," said he, bending over his wife with the cup. "Drink that!" As usual, she obeyed without dispute. Her colour came back by degrees as the two men exchanged a few sentences about the land. "Do you feel well enough now to let me drive you back?" asked Gaunt presently. "Oh, yes, of course. Thank you very much, Mr. Caunter." She held out the cup to its owner as she spoke the words, lifting her appealing chin, and giving him a smile such as he had thought existed only in romances. The husband marked the emotions which expressed themselves in his bailiff's honest countenance. He noticed also the simplicity and unconsciousness of his wife's expression. Nothing he could take hold of. He crossed the stile, helped her over, put her into the cart, got in himself and gathered up the reins. "Better get up behind, Hugh," said he. Caunter reddened slightly and hung back. These two were married only yesterday. "Yes, you had better. I don't want to have to stable your mare till you come for her," bade his master. He yielded and jumped up. With a tact which spoke well for him, he said a few words to Gaunt as they drove, until the quick motion through the air revived Virginia completely, and she began to ask one or two eager questions about the neighbourhood. He found himself speaking of the beauties of Dovedale, of the weird limestone caverns of the Peak, and of the Druid circle at Arbor Low. She was interested. To Caunter it seemed but a minute before they stood at the drive gate of Omberleigh. His head was whirling. He jumped down to open the gate, and said: "If you don't mind, I will leave you to take Mrs. Gaunt to the door. I want to speak to Emerson." He opened the gate, and was about to disappear into the lodge, which was occupied by the head gardener, when Gaunt called him back for some message with regard to cucumbers. As he was speaking, bending down over the side of the cart, the sound of horse's feet upon the road became audible, and a rider hove in sight, who drew rein promptly and shouted a greeting. He was a somewhat showy young man, with a chestnut moustache and eyes set too close together. He rode a fine beast, and was got up in leggings and cord breeches.