There were no substantial fetters of steel or iron on her slender wrists and ankles, yet the fetters encircled her free limbs notwithstanding! Listen, dear reader, while I tell you how Hagar—queen of woods and waves—Hagar, _là lionnesse de chase_, discovered that though no one rebuked her by word, gesture, or glance, she was no longer her own mistress; that she had to contend for her freedom, not “with flesh and blood,” but with powers and principalities of—something or other! There had been a high day at the Heath; under the auspices of Master Gusty May the hounds had met early. There had been a great chase, quite a steeple chase; a neck-or-nothing affair; and all day long, over hill and dale, rock and brake, the hunting had thundered, and still Hagar, the slight agile girl, on her flying black steed, had kept the advance; and still, with wild mirth and fearless defiance, she had cheered them forward! down the most precipitous steeps, through the most violent torrents, over the most frightful chasms, until the brush was taken. The hunters dispersed, and many of them rode over to Heath Hall, in company with Gusty May and Hagar. And there when all lips were carelessly, mirthfully speaking of her feats of horsemanship that day, and the dark girl’s cheek kindled more with the proud consciousness of power than with pleasure at their admiration, she sought Raymond’s face. Raymond never joined these hunts, his tastes did not lie that way. She sought Raymond’s countenance at the very moment that some one spoke of her leap across “Devil’s Gorge.” She sought Raymond’s countenance half in doubt. He heard—she felt he did, although his eyes were fixed upon the book before him. He disapproved—she felt, with a strange pain, a strange sense of loss that he did, although no glance, gesture, or frown betrayed rebuke. And somehow, all Hagar’s gladness escaped in a long drawn sigh! She felt not quite so much of a young lioness as she had a moment since; and the presence of the company annoyed her, and she wished from her soul that they would eat their suppers and go along home; she wished to hear Raymond speak to her alone, that she might know how much she had lost, and perchance recover it. Well, at last they did go, and Hagar, after, in the Maryland manner, seeing the last guest to the door herself, came back in her riding habit, which she had not yet had time to change—she came back, that slight, dark girl, looking so elegant in her graceful black habit, her shining blue-black ringlets glittering down her crimson cheek; her gleaming eyes and teeth were veiled and covered, one by the purple lips, the other by the long black fringes; how gentle she seemed now, gentle as the half-dozing leopardess, with her tusks and claws covered with the softest fur. And she _was_ gentle just now, she glided softly near Raymond and stood by him, so humbly! He did not see her attitude or expression as she stood a