d to be old to Miss Palliser. To himself it
seemed as though the fountains of youth were still running through
all his veins. Though he had given up schooling young horses, he
could ride as hard as ever. He could shoot all day. He could take
"his whack of wine," as he called it, sit up smoking half the night,
and be on horseback the next morning after an early breakfast without
the slightest feeling of fatigue. He was a red-faced little man, with
broad shoulders, clean shaven, with small eyes, and a nose on which
incipient pimples began to show themselves. To himself and the
comrades of his life he was almost as young as he had ever been; but
the young ladies of the county called him Old Spooner, and regarded
him as a permanent assistant unpaid huntsman to the Brake hounds. It
was not within the compass of Miss Palliser's imagination to conceive
that this man should intend to propose himself to her as her lover.

"I have been waiting for this opportunity all the morning," said Mr.
Spooner. Adelaide Palliser turned round and looked at him, still
understanding nothing. Ride at any fence hard enough, and the chances
are you'll get over. The harder you ride the heavier the fall, if
you get a fall; but the greater the chance of your getting over.
This had been a precept in the life of Mr. Spooner, verified by much
experience, and he had resolved that he would be guided by it on this
occasion. "Ever since I first saw you, Miss Palliser, I have been so
much taken by you that,--that,--in point of fact, I love you better
than all the women in the world I ever saw; and will you,--will you
be Mrs. Spooner?"

He had at any rate ridden hard at his fence. There had been no
craning,--no looking about for an easy place, no hesitation as he
brought his horse up to it. No man ever rode straighter than he did
on this occasion. Adelaide stopped short on the path, and he stood
opposite to her, with his fingers inserted between the closed buttons
of his frock-coat. "Mr. Spooner!" exclaimed Adelaide.

"I am quite in earnest, Miss Palliser; no man ever was more in
earnest. I can offer you a comfortable well-furnished home, an
undivided heart, a good settlement, and no embarrassment on the
property. I'm fond of a country life myself, but I'll adapt myself
to you in everything reasonable."

"You are mistaken, Mr. Spooner; you are indeed."

"How mistaken?"

"I mean that it is altogether out of the question. You have surprised
me so much t