know; but not brilliant, certainly.
His daughter is"--the color deepened on his cheek perceptibly--"very
charming, most people think; but I hate describing people. I always
caricature the likeness. You'll form your own judgment at dinner. Shall
we go in? We shoot an outlying cover after luncheon, and the blackthorns
involve gaiters."

We had very fair sport, and were returning across the park, picking up a
stray rabbit every now and then in the tufts of long grass and patches
of brake. One had just started before Forrester, and he was in the act
of pulling the trigger, when Livingstone said suddenly,

"There's my uncle's carriage coming down the north avenue."

It was an easy shot in the open, but Charley missed it clean.

"What eyes you have, Guy," he said, pettishly; "but I wish you wouldn't
speak to a man on his shot."

Guy's great Lancaster rang out with the roar of a small field-piece, and
the rabbit was rolling over, riddled through the head, before he
answered,

"Yea, my eyes _are_ good, and I see a good many things, but I _don't_
see why you should have muffled that shot, particularly as my
intelligence was meant for the world in general, and it was not such an
astounding remark, after all."

Charley did not seem ready with a reply, so he retained his look of
injured innocence, and walked on, sucking silently at his cigar. The
Raymonds reached the house before us; but, not being in a presentable
state, I did not see them before dinner.

Forrester was right; there was nothing startling about Mr. Raymond. He
had one of those thin, high-bred looking faces that one always fancies
would have suited admirably the powder and ruffles of the last century.
It expressed little except perfect repose, and when he spoke, which was
but seldom, no additional light came into his hard blue eyes. His
daughter was his absolute contrast--a lovely, delicate little creature,
with silky dark-brown hair, and eyes _en suite_, and color that deepened
and faded twenty times in an hour, without ever losing the softness of
its tints. She had the ways of a child petted all its life through, that
a harsh word would frighten to annihilation. She seemed very fond of
Guy, though evidently rather afraid of him at times.

Nothing passed at dinner worth mentioning; but soon after the ladies
left us, Mr. Raymond turned lazily to his nephew to inquire,

"If he would mind asking Bruce to come and stay at Kerton, as he was to
be in the neig