at Tristram looked
particularly attractive in his shooting clothes, and that English
sportsmen were natural, unceremonious creatures, whom she was beginning
to like very much. She wished she could open her heart to this quaint,
kind old man, and ask him to explain things to her; but she could not,
and presently they got to a safe place and watched.

Tristram happened to be fairly near them; and, yes, he was a good
shot--she could see that. But, at first, the thud of the beautiful
pheasants falling to the ground caused her to wince--she, who had looked
upon the shattered face of Ladislaus, her husband, with only a quiver of
disgust! But these creatures were in the glory of their beauty and the
joy of life, and had preyed upon the souls of no one.

Her wonderful face, which interested Colonel Lowerby so, was again
abstracted. Something had brought back that hateful moment to her
memory; she could hear Feto, the dancer's shrieks, and see the blood;
and she shivered suddenly and clasped her hands.

"Do you mind seeing the birds come down?" the Crow asked kindly.

"I do not know," she said. "I was thinking of some other shooting."

"Because," the Crow went on, "the women who rage against sport forget
one thing,--the birds would not exist at all, if it were not for
preserving them for this very reason. They would gradually be trapped
and snared and exterminated; whereas, now they have a royal time, of
food and courtship and mating, and they have no knowledge of their
coming fate, and so live a life of splendor up to the last moment."

"How much better! Yes, indeed, I will never be foolish about them again.
I will think of that." Then she exclaimed, "Oh, that was wonderful!" for
Tristram got two rocketters at right and left, and then another with
his second gun. His temper had not affected his eye, it seemed.

"Tristram is one of the best all-round sportsmen I know," the Crow
announced, "and he has one of the kindest hearts. I have known him since
he was a toddler. His mother was one of the beauties, when I first put
on a cuirass."

Zara tried to control her interest, and merely said, "Yes?"

"Are you looking forward to the reception at Wrayth on Monday? I always
wonder how a person unaccustomed to England would view all the speeches
and dinners, the bonfire, and triumphal arches, and those things of a
home-coming. Rather an ordeal, I expect."

Zara's eyes rounded, and she faltered,

"And shall I have to go through