g his spurs into
his horse, galloped after the carriage. Breathless we watched him. We
would not follow, for we knew that he would do it, if any man could, and
the sound of many in pursuit would only further exasperate the ponies.
Ha! he is nearing them now. Another moment and they will be down the
sloping bank into the lake. The girl gives a wild cry; Fane is straining
every nerve. Bravo! well done---he has saved her! I rushed up, and
arrived to find Fane supporting a half-fainting young lady, in whose
soft face, as it rested on his shoulder, I recognized Florence Aspeden.
Her eyes unclosed as I drew near, and, blushing, she disengaged herself
from his arms. Fane bent his head over her, and murmured, "Thank God, I
have saved you!" But perhaps I did not hear distinctly.

By this time all her friends had gathered round them, and Fane had
consigned her to her cousin's care, and she was endeavoring to thank
him, which her looks, and blushes, and smiles did most eloquently; Mr.
Aspeden was shaking Fane by the hand, and what further might have
happened I know not, if the colonel (very wrathful at such an unseemly
interruption to his cherished manoeuvres) had not shouted out, "Fall
in, gentlemen--fall in! Captain Fane, fall in with your troop, sir!" We
did accordingly fall in, and the review proceeded; but my friend
actually made some mistakes in his evolutions, and kept his eye-glass
immovably fixed on the point in the circle, and behaved altogether in a
_distrait_ manner--Fane, whom I used to accuse of having too much _sang
froid_--whom nothing could possibly disturb--whom I never saw agitated
before in the whole course of my acquaintance!

What an inexplicable fellow he is!

The review over, we joined the Aspedens, and many were the
congratulations Florence had heaped upon her; but she looked
_distraite_, too, until Fane came up, and leaning his hand on the
carriage, bent down and talked to her. Their conversation went on in a
low tone, and as I was busy laughing with Mary, I cannot report it, save
that from the bright blushes on the one hand, and the soft whispered
tones on the other, Fane was clearly at his old and favorite work of
winning hearts.

"You seem quite _occupe_ this morning, Mr. Wilmot," said Mary, in her
winning tones. "I trust you have had no bad news--no order from the
Horse Guards for the Lancers to leave off moustaches."

"No, Miss Aspeden," said Sydney; "if such a calamity as that had
occurred, yo