ow you ride fine horses, but
you are not generally foolhardy. I saw your dark bay mare being taken
home at Colbourne Spinneys, and I don't think she'll be fit to ride
again this season. Old Harrison had tears in his eyes when he saw
her!"

"Harrison is an old woman about horses! I never touched Meg with the
spurs. She was as fresh as paint, and there was no holding her."

"You can't deceive me or yourself," Lady May continued calmly. "You
have been riding for a fall, all day, and you may think yourself
pretty fortunate that you haven't a broken neck. It seemed as though
you were trying for one. And now that you haven't succeeded, you have
nearly ridden ten miles alone with me, and scarcely opened your mouth.
You are very provoking, Mr. de Vaux. I wish I had ridden home with
Captain Fellowes."

He was on the point of reminding her that the arrangement had not been
of his making, but he checked himself. After all, Lady May had some
grounds for her irritation. They had been friends since they had been
children, and Paul knew that every one expected him, someday, to ask
Lady May to become the mistress of Vaux Abbey. There had been a little
more than intimacy even in their friendship up till twelve months ago;
and Paul had certain recollections of their last interview, which had
made him more than once a trifle uneasy. As a matter of fact, Lady May
had quite made up her mind that Paul de Vaux would certainly ask her
to marry him some time; and she had, on his account, refused two very
eligible offers. Their people desired it, and, in her heart, Lady May
was conscious that Paul was a little more to her than any other man
could be. So she felt herself at first, aggrieved by his long silence
during their ride home, which, to tell the truth, she had carefully
planned for, and afterwards was just on the verge of being seriously
offended.

"Don't be angry with me, please," he said quietly. "You are right;
something is the matter. I am worried."

She was sympathetic and kindly at once. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive
me for bothering you. You used to tell me your troubles once! Are we
too old now?"

He shook his head. "I hope we never shall be," he said. "I can't tell
you all, but one thing is this. I had a letter from a man in town
to-day--a man whom I can trust--about Arthur. You know what an
impressionable, sensitive boy he is. Anyone who once obtains an
influence over him can do nearly what they like with him. He seems--s