"All that's very brave of you," cried Lucy, looking him most shamelessly full in the eyes, and keeping her own very still to conceal the twitching mischief that was seeking to make puckers and dimples in all parts of her pretty face. "Well," he said, heavily, "you can't quite call it brave. It's plucky, though," he added, with a self-satisfied smile. "There are not many fellows in my position who would do it." "Oh, no, I suppose not," said Lucy, with truthful earnestness this time; and then to herself: "He's worse than I thought." "Now that's what I like, you know," exclaimed Rolph. "That's what I want--a sort of sympathy, you know. To feel that when I'm doing my best to win some cup or belt there's one somewhere who takes an interest in it, and is glad for me to win. Do you see?" "Oh, of course I am glad for you to win, if it pleases you," said Lucy, demurely. "But it doesn't please me if it doesn't please you," cried Rolph. "I've won such a heap of times, that I don't care for it much, unless there should be some one I could come and tell about it all." "Then why not tell Glynne?" said Lucy, opening her limpid eyes, and gazing full in the captain's face. "Because it's of no use," cried Rolph. "I've tried till I'm sick of trying. I want to tell you." "Oh, but you mustn't tell me," said Lucy. "Oh, yes I must, and I'm going to begin now. I shall tell you all my ventures, and what I win, and when I am going to train; and--I say, Lucy, you did come out this morning to see me train?" "Indeed, I did not," she cried; "and even if I had, I should not tell you so." "Oh, I don't mind," said Rolph, laughing. "I'm satisfied." "What a monster for poor Glynne to be engaged to. I believe, if I were to encourage him, he'd break off his engagement." "I am glad I met you," said Rolph, suddenly, and he went a little closer to Lucy, who started aside into the wet grass, and glanced hastily round. "Why, what are you doing?" he said. "I wanted to pick that mushroom," she said. "Oh, never mind the mushrooms, you'll make your little feet wet, and I want to talk to you. I say, I'm going to train again to-morrow morning. You'll come, won't you. Pray do!--Who's this?" Both started, for, having approached unheard, his pony's paces muffled by the turf, Philip Oldroyd cantered by them, gazing hard at Lucy, and raising his hat stiffly to Rolph, as he went past. "Confound him! Where did he spring from?" cried Rolph. "Why, he quite startled you," he continued, for Lucy's face, which had flushed crimson, now turned of a pale waxen hue. "Oh, no; it is nothing," she said, as a tremor ran through her frame, and she hesitated as to what she should do, ending by exclaiming suddenly that she must go back home at once. "But you'll come and see me train to-morrow morning," said Rolph. "No, no. Oh, no. I could not," cried Lucy; and she turned and hurried away.