"In confidence, Mrs. Lascelles, of course. I think you can depend upon _me_." And Sir Henry, as directed by a weather-beaten guide-post, turned into a narrow lane on his homeward way, while the lady with whom he had been riding, jogged her tired horse gently along the high road, absorbed in thoughts, pleasant, suggestive, engrossing--not precisely in "maiden meditation," for she was a widow--nor yet, although she was nearer thirty than twenty, wholly "fancy free." Mrs. Lascelles loved her horse dearly, and had been riding him with the liberality and confidence that spring from true affection, in a lady-like manner no doubt, and gracefully enough, but with considerable daring, and no small e…
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