red out
her pony and was about to ride down to Cove to see him.

Kenneth began to remark on the curious coincidence that he too had come
out with the intention of riding down to the same place; but the
volatile middy burst in with--

"Come, Lizz, that's jolly, we're bound for the same port, and can set
sail in company; whether we keep together or not depends on
circumstances, not to mention wind and weather. I rather think that if
we take to racing, Bucephalus and Kenneth will be there first."

"Bucephalus is always well behaved in the company of ladies, which is
more than I can say of you, Gildart," retorted his friend, as he opened
the door to let Lizzie Gordon pass out.

"And we won't race, good cousin," said Lizzie, "for my uncle is to ride
with me, and you know he is not fond of going very fast."

"How d'ye know that, lass?" said I, coming down-stairs at the moment;
"not a few of my friends think that I go much too fast for this
century--so fast, indeed, that they seem to wonder that I have not
ridden ahead of them into the next! How d'ye do, Kenneth? Gildart was
not long of finding you out, I see."

Saying this, I mounted my cob and cantered down the avenue of Bingley
Hall, followed by the young people, whose fresh and mettlesome steeds
curvetted and pranced incessantly.

It may be as well to remark here, good reader, that at the time of which
I write I was unacquainted, as a matter of course, with many of the
facts which I am now narrating: they were made known to me piecemeal in
the course of after years. I feel that this explanation is necessary in
order to account for my otherwise unaccountable knowledge of things that
were said and done when I was not present.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

LIZZIE GORDON IS RUN AWAY WITH, AND GAFF IS "PUMPED".

The road to the Cove lay along the top of the cliffs, and was in many
parts exceedingly picturesque; now passing, in the form of a mere
bridle-path, along the verge of the precipices, where thousands of
sea-gulls floated around the giddy heights, or darted down into the
waves which fell on shingly beach, or promontory, or bay of yellow sand,
far below; anon cutting across the grassy downs on some bold headland,
or diverging towards the interior, and descending into a woody dell in
order to avoid a creek or some other arm of the sea that had cleft the
rocks and intruded on the land.

The day was sunny and sufficiently warm to render a slow pace agreeable
to my n