s with
him, for the purpose of trying a shot for love."

As he said so, he looked boldly towards Miss Bellenden, and tradition
says, that the eyes of the young tirailleur travelled, though more
covertly, in the same direction. The young Lord's last trial was as
unsuccessful as the former, and it was with difficulty that he preserved
the tone of scornful indifference which he had hitherto assumed. But,
conscious of the ridicule which attaches itself to the resentment of a
losing party, he returned to his antagonist the horse on which he had
made his last unsuccessful attempt, and received back his own; giving, at
the same time, thanks to his competitor, who, he said, had re-established
his favourite horse in his good opinion, for he had been in great danger
of transferring to the poor nag the blame of an inferiority, which every
one, as well as himself, must now be satisfied remained with the rider.
Having made this speech in a tone in which mortification assumed the veil
of indifference, he mounted his horse and rode off the ground.

As is the usual way of the world, the applause and attention even of
those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale, were, upon his decisive
discomfiture, transferred to his triumphant rival.

"Who is he? what is his name?" ran from mouth to mouth among the gentry
who were present, to few of whom he was personally known. His style and
title having soon transpired, and being within that class whom a great
man might notice without derogation, four of the Duke's friends, with the
obedient start which poor Malvolio ascribes to his imaginary retinue,
made out to lead the victor to his presence. As they conducted him in
triumph through the crowd of spectators, and stunned him at the same time
with their compliments on his success, he chanced to pass, or rather to
be led, immediately in front of Lady Margaret and her grand-daughter. The
Captain of the popinjay and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the
latter returned, with embarrassed courtesy, the low inclination which the
victor made, even to the saddle-bow, in passing her.

"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.

"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and elsewhere
occasionally," stammered Miss Edith Bellenden.

"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark is
the nephew of old Milnwood."

"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a regiment
of horse with great c