On the following afternoon he had occasion to drive to the market town. It was a bright, clear day, with a promise of frost in the air, and as his dog-cart rolled along the high road, drawn by a tandem team he had purchased the previous week, he felt as well satisfied with himself and his position in the world as it was possible for a young man to be. His business transacted in the town he turned his horses’ heads homeward once more. The handsome animals, knowing that they were on their way to their stables, stepped out bravely, and many an approving glance was thrown at the good-looking young squire of Detwich by folk upon the road. He had completed upward of half his journey when he became aware that a young lady, who had appeared from a by-road, was making her way in the same direction as himself. “Whoever she is she certainly sits her horse well,” he said to himself, as he watched her swinging along at a slow canter on the soft side of the road. “I wonder who she can be?” As soon as the turf gave place to hard metal she pulled her hack up and proceeded at a walk. This very soon brought Godfrey alongside, and as he passed he managed to steal a glance at a very pretty face and as neat a figure as he ever remembered to have seen. “I wonder who she can be?” he repeated. And as he continued his drive he meditated on the subject. On the Friday following he was unexpectedly called to town. His solicitors desired an interview with him respecting the purchase of a farm, and he had no option but to comply with their request. As luck would have it, however, he was able to return by a somewhat earlier train than he expected, and was just in time to hear from his butler that afternoon tea had been carried into the drawing-room. “Are there any visitors?” he inquired. “Miss Devereux, sir,” said the man; “she came to lunch.” “I had forgotten that she was to be here to-day,” he said to himself as he crossed the hall in the direction of the drawing-room. “I wonder what she will be like?” As every one who has visited Detwich is aware, the drawing-room is an exceedingly handsome room. It is long and lofty, if possible a little _too_ long for cosiness. This fault, if fault it be, is amply atoned for, however, by a capitally constructed ingle-nook, in which it was the custom for the ladies to take afternoon tea. Godfrey strolled across the floor to this charming contrivance, little guessing what was in store for him. A lady was sitting with her back to him holding a cup of tea in her hand. “I don’t think you have met Miss Devereux, Godfrey,” said his sister. “I have not yet had that pleasure,” he replied. Then to himself he added: “Good gracious! It’s the fair equestrienne.” Then aloud: “I’ve heard a good deal of you from Kitty, Miss Devereux.” “And I of you,” she answered. “You seem to have been everywhere, and to have seen everything. Doubtless you find this part of the world very dull.”