"And yet his fashion of wooing would be a little peremptory for the nineteenth century." "There are no Montroses in the nineteenth century." "They are out of date, like many a good thing besides. Not long ago, I saw some verses in a magazine--a kind of ballad on Montrose's execution." "Can you repeat it?" "I cannot compete with you; but I think I can give you a stanza or two:-- "'The morning dawned full darkly, The rain came flashing down, And the jagged streak of the levin bolt Lit up the gloomy town: The thunder crashed across the heaven, The fatal hour was come; And ay broke in, with muffled beat, The 'larum of the drum. There was madness on the earth below, And anger in the sky, And young and old, and rich and poor, Came forth to see him die. "'But when he came, though pale and wan, He looked so great and high, So noble was his manly front, So calm his steadfast eye,-- The rabble rout forbore to shout, And each man held his breath, For well they knew the hero's soul Was face to face with death.'" Fanny Euston's eye kindled, as if at a strain of warlike music. "Go on." "I have forgotten the rest." "Then pray find the verses and send them to me. Why is it that, as you say, such men are out of date?" "What place, or what career, could they find in a commercial country?" "Then why were we born in a commercial country?" "You seem to make an ideal hero of Montrose." "Not I. I am not the school girl you take me for. I have no ideal hero. I do not believe in ideal heroes. Montrose was a man, with the faults of a man; full of faults, and yet not a bad man either." "Very far from it." "He had great faults, but grand qualities to match them,--worth a thousand of the small, tame, correct virtues that one sees hereabouts." "Dangerous ideas, those, Mrs. Primrose would tell you." "Deliver me from Mrs. Primrose!" ejaculated Fanny. They rode in silence for a few minutes, Morton's companion murmuring to herself fragments of the lines which he had just repeated. "Look!" she cried, suddenly. "How slowly our horses have been walking! The rest are almost out of sight. We had better join them. Will you race with me?" "Any thing you please." "Come on, then." She touched her horse with the whip, and they set forward at full speed. Fanny, who was by far the better mounted, soon gained the day. "Rein up," cried Morton, as they came near the party, "or your horse will startle the others." Fanny drew the curb, but not quite successfully; and her rapid arrival produced some commotion. Stubb's horse, in particular, began to prance and curvet in a manner which greatly disturbed his rider's equanimity. "Whoa! Whoa, boy!" said Stubb. "Steady, now! steady, sir! Whoa!" Fanny's eyes twinkled with malicious delight. She had a great contempt for Stubb, who, on his part, was mortally afraid of her. "That's a good horse of yours," pushing close to his side.