capable of affording such thrilling
excitement as that which I had so recently enjoyed. I had never been
so happy, I thought, in my existence as whilst I was leading the field
on my dear Brilliant. It was a pure, wholesome, legitimate excitement;
there were no harassing doubts and fears, no wounded feelings and
bitter thoughts, no hours and days of suspense and misery to atone for
a few short moments of delight. If I was disappointed in other things,
could I not devote myself wholly to hunting, and so lead a happy and
harmless life? If I had been a man, I should have answered in the
affirmative; but I am a woman, and gradually softer thoughts stole
over me. A distant vision of a happy home, with home-interests and
home-pleasures--others to love, others to care for, besides
myself--all a woman's duties, and all a woman's best delights. I shut
my eyes and tried to realize the picture. When I opened them again,
Mrs. Lumley had gone fast to sleep; but John was watching me with a
look of painful attention. He certainly had acquired a very earnest,
keen look of late, such as he never used to wear. I do not know what
prompted the question, but I could not forbear asking him, in a sort
of half-laughing way, "John, if I had broken my neck to-day, what on
earth should you have done?"

"Mourned for you _as a sister_, Kate," he replied gravely, even
severely. I did not speak another word the whole way home.

CHAPTER XIX.

"I shall miss you sadly, Kate; but if you enjoy your visit I shall be
quite satisfied."

It was Aunt Deborah who spoke. Dear Aunt Deborah! I felt as if I had
not been half attentive enough to her lately. I had selfishly been so
taken up with my own thoughts and my own schemes that I had neglected
my poor suffering relative, and now my heart smote me for my want of
consideration. Aunt Deborah had not left the house since our return
from Dangerfield. She looked worn and old, but had the same kind
smile, the same measured accents as ever. Though she endured a good
deal of pain and was kept in close confinement, she never complained:
patient and quiet, she had a kind word for every one; and even her
maid avowed that "missus's" temper was that of an angel. "Hangel," the
maid called it, but it was perfectly true. Aunt Deborah must have had
something very satisfactory to look forward to, or she never would
have been so light-hearted. One thing I remarked, she was fonder of
John than ever.

"I won't go, my