o little, while he
takes it in his swing, covering good nine yards from hoof to hoof.
Nothing but hurdles now between them and home. The down-hill run-in
favors his vast stride. A thousand voices echo Flora's words, "The
chestnut wins!" Charley made his effort exactly at the right time, and
the brave little mare answered gallantly; but it was not to be. He shook
his head, and never touched her with whip or spur again.

The race was over. No one disputed the judge's fiat: "The Axeine by six
lengths."

Up to the skies went the hats and the shouts of the sturdy yeomen, who
"know'd he couldn't be beat," exulting in the success of their
favorite. Round winner and loser crowded their friends, congratulating
the one, condoling with the other, praising both for their riding. At
that moment I do not think any one except myself remarked Isabel
Raymond, who sat somewhat apart, her tears falling fast under her veil
as she looked upon her lost ring.

Just then Forrester rode up. "Woe to the vanquished!" he said. "All is
lost but honor. Will you say something kind to me after my defeat, Miss
Raymond? You will find your pet not punished in the least, and without a
scratch on her."

Without answering, she held out her hand. As he bent over it, and
whispered, what I could not hear, I saw her eyes sparkle, and a happy
consciousness flush her cheeks, till they glowed like a sky at sunset
when a storm is passing away in the west. Then I knew that he had won a
richer prize than ever was set on a race since the first Great
Metropolitan was run for at Olympia.

Livingstone had washed away the traces of his fall (his wound was only a
cut under the hair, above the temple), and was going to get the horses
in line to start them for the farmers' cup. As he passed Miss Bellasys
he checked his horse for an instant, and said, very coldly,

"You are satisfied, I trust?"

"All's well that ends well," answered Flora; "but I began to tremble for
my bets. I thought you were waiting too long."

Guy did not wish to pursue the subject apparently, for he rode on
without reply. Flora made no attempt to detain him. She had studied the
signs of the times in his countenance long enough to be weather-wise,
and to know that the better part of valor was advisable when the
quicksilver had sunk to Stormy.

The cup was a great success. Eleven started, and three made a most
artistic finish--scarcely a length between first and third. The farmers
of the presen