as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bred
ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladies
who have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park,
who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly
fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of
their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawing
the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole body
breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, "Look at me; I
am on horseback! Be startled at that--as I am! and I have had lessons
from a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should ride"--in his
opinion, poor devil.

The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of these
bright cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion,
furnished a picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life that
cheered the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the stern
Spartan life of him who had persuaded himself he was the rightful owner
of Huntercombe Hall.

Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one.
One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, was
very gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir
Charles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield for
law books, and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound in
smooth calf.

Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days,
when no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he took
care to find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, and
rustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, used
to think themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and not
before Squire Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the
law. So now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental.

Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one little
cloud--there was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be ever
so powerful, it is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemy
at his door watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this in
the sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called
"Splatchett's" lay on his north side, and a marginal strip of this
property ran right into a wood of his. This strip was wretched land,
and the owner, unable to raise any wheat crop o