‘I had as little intention of making the accusation,’ I rejoined. ‘But will you really teach me a little?’ ‘Most willingly. To begin, you must sit erect. You lean forward.’ ‘Thank you. Is this better?’ ‘Yes, better. A little more yet. You ought to have your stirrups shorter. It is a poor affectation to ride like a trooper. Their own officers don’t. You can tell any novice by his long leathers, his heels down and his toes in his stirrups. Ride home, if you want to ride comfortably.’ The phrase was new to me, but I guessed what she meant; and without dismounting, pulled my stirrup-leathers a couple of holes shorter, and thrust my feet through to the instep. She watched the whole proceeding. ‘There! you look more like riding now,’ she said. ‘Let us have another canter. I will promise not to lead you over any more fences without due warning.’ ‘And due admonition as well, I trust, Clara.’ She nodded, and away we went. I had never been so proud of my mare. She showed to much advantage, with the graceful figure on her back, which she carried like a feather. ‘Now there’s a little fence,’ she said, pointing where a rail or two protected a clump of plantation. ‘You must mind the young wood though, or we shall get into trouble. Mind you throw yourself back a little--as you see me do.’ I watched her, and following her directions, did better this time, for I got over somehow and recovered my seat. ‘There! You improve,’ said Clara. ‘Now we’re pounded, unless you can jump again, and it is not quite so easy from this side.’ When we alighted, I found my saddle in the proper place. ‘Bravo!’ she cried. ‘I entirely forgive your first misadventure. You do splendidly.’ ‘I would rather you forgot it, Clara,’ I cried, ungallantly. ‘Well, I will be generous,’ she returned. ‘Besides, I owe you something for such a charming ride. I _will_ forget it.’ ‘Thank you,’ I said, and drawing closer would have laid my left hand on her right. Whether she foresaw my intention, I do not know; but in a moment she was yards away, scampering over the grass. My horse could never have overtaken hers. By the time she drew rein and allowed me to get alongside of her once more, we were in sight: of Moldwarp Hall. It stood with one corner towards us, giving the perspective of two sides at once. She stopped her mare, and said, ‘There, Wilfrid! What would you give to call a place like that your own? What a thing to have a house like that to live in!’ [Illustration: “NOW THERE’S A LITTLE FENCE,” SHE SAID.] ‘I know something I should like better,’ I said. I assure my reader I was not so silly as to be on the point of making her an offer already. Neither did she so misunderstand me. She was very near the mark of my meaning when she rejoined-- ‘Do you? I don’t. I suppose you would prefer being called a fine poet, or something of the sort.’