now her, I tell you. Have a care; it's Miss
Coventry." And in another instant he had bounded to the earth,
accosted my _chaperon_ with a hearty "Jack, how goes it?" and was deep
in conversation with my humble self, with his hand on my horse's
neck--Frank always wears such good gloves--and his pleasant
countenance beaming with delight at our chance interview. I liked the
races better after this, and should have spent a happier day, perhaps,
without the society of Mrs. Lumley, who appeared likewise on
horseback, quite unexpectedly, and was riding the most beautiful brown
mare I ever saw in my life. I quite wished I had brought down
Brilliant, if only to have met her on more equal terms. As we were the
only two ladies on horseback, of course we were obliged to fraternize
(if the weaker sex may use such an expression), as, indeed, we must
have done had we been the bitterest foes on earth, instead of merely
hating each other with common civility. Mrs. Lumley seemed on
particularly good terms with Frank Lovell--I do not know that I liked
her any the better for that--and expressed her sentiments and opinions
to the world in general with a vivacity and freedom peculiarly her
own.

"I am out on 'the sly,' you know," she observed with an arch smile. "I
have a good, quiet aunt who lives down at Richmond, and I do penance
there for a time, whenever I have been more than usually wicked; but
to-day I could not resist the fine weather and the crowd and the fun,
and above all the bad company, which amuses me more than all the rest
put together, though I do not include you, Miss Coventry, nor yet Mr.
Jones, but I am afraid I must Captain Lovell. Come, let's ride amongst
the carriages and see the ninnies."

So Mrs. Lumley and I plunged into the crowd, leaving Frank to return
to his drag and his betting-book, and Cousin John somewhat
discontentedly to bring up the rear.

"After all, I don't see much harm in Hampton," said my lively guide as
we threaded our way between the carriages, "though, to be sure, there
are some very queer-looking people on the course. I could tell you
strange stories of most of them, Miss Coventry, only you wouldn't
believe me. Do you see that old, plainish woman, with such black hair
and eyebrows--something like Lady Scapegrace, only not so handsome as
my favourite enemy? Would you believe it, she might marry three
coronets at this moment if she chose, and she won't have any one of
them. She is not good-lookin