ed the Squire; “it’s

anxious for a son to inherit the Abbey House estate, succeed to his father’s dignities as master of the fox-hounds,

lated the Squire; “to think

ven vixenish temper, and the family doctor, who loved a small joke, used to ask after Miss Vixen when he paid his professional visits. As

by that dreadful nickname, dear,”

y,” replied the Squire, and he took

Young as she was, she soon learnt to do without the leading-rein, and the gentle white pony was discarded as too quiet for little Miss Tempest. Before her eleventh birthday she rode to hounds, rose before the sun to hunt the young fox-cubs in early autumn, and saw the stag at bay on the wild heathery downs above the wooded valleys that

good. If anyone had dared to say in Vixen’s hearing that her father could, by any possible combination of circumstances, do wrong, act unjustly, or ungenerously, it woul

that it was her mission to teach older people the way to heaven; but if there was trouble in the village — a sick child, a husband in prison for rabbit snaring, a dead baby, a little boy’s pinafore set fire — Vixen and her pony were always to the fore; and it was an axiom in the village t

disliked unlearned. She had the prettiest ponies in Hampshire to ride, the prettiest dresses to wear. Her mother was not a woman to bestow mental culture upon her only child, but she racked her small brain to devise becoming costumes for Violet: the coloured stockings which harmonised best with each particular gown, the neat

other with a lesser love; she had a tolerant affection for Miss McCroke; she loved her ponies, and the dog Argus; she loved the hounds in the kennels; she loved every hon

lf in an unappreciative circle. If she could have heard Lady Mabel talking about her, it would have been like the

en of domestic love. The outside world seems so hard, and black,

l their tastes were in common. They had the same love for the brute creation, the same wild delight in rushing madly through the air on the backs of unreasoning animals; widely different in their tastes from Lady Mabel, who had o

ears. That his Vixen could ever care for anyone but her “old dad,” was a notion that had not yet found its way into the Squire’s brain. She seemed to him quite as much his own property, his own to do what he liked with, singly and si

ogether without telling herself how exactly they were suited to each other, and what a nic

at it would be good fun to have his help in the decorations for the little Gothic church in the valley — a pretty little new church, like a toy, which the Squire had built and paid for, and endowed with a perpetual seventy pounds a year ou

le. Easter came, and still no Rorie. He was at Putney, with the ‘Varsity crew, or in London with the Dovedales, ridin

at his mother’s instigation, and was only to come back late in the year to keep his twenty-f

ugust morning, with her nose scornfully tilte

rgotten him,” protested her mo

en the colour of his hair, mamma; and as he hasn’t writte

demolition of a grouse. “But Rorie is a young man now, you know,

duty to forget his old frien

h a pen. Nature has given us a broad strong grasp, to grip a sword or a gun. Your mother writes most of my letters, Vixen, you know, and I shall expect you to help her in a yea

ully; “you forget that Violet is not out.

ild, “she has grown up like a green bay-tree. But if this were t

r nature, and I don’t think she likes us — much. But I daresay we shall be asked, and if we go I must have a new dress,” added

wrote off to her milliner at once, and there was a passage of letters and fashion-plates and patterns of silk to and fro, and som

n for a wild scamper across the hills with him — to have seen the rolling downs of the Wight blue in the distance — to have felt the soft south wind blowing in her face, and to have ridden by his side, neck and neck, all day long; and then to

ctober, but there had been no sign of Rorie and his big raking chestnut in

he birthday,” Mrs. Tempest remarked placidly, a

only sending her invitations for indiscriminate afternoon assemblies, which Mrs. Tempest had

ing those three weeks, and poor Mi

the Germans are! Why can’t they have one little word for everything, as we have? T, h, e, the. Any child can learn that. What do they mean by chopping up their language into little bits, like the pieces in a puzzle? Why, even the French are more reasonable — though they’re bad eno

Continent, Violet, he would find his igno

n’t. He’d hav

remarked Miss McCroke, looking at a fat useful watch, which she wore at her side in the good old f

here’s more fire and life in it. I do like Schiller, Croke

r cheeks were aflame, and the grand verses were rolled out rapidly, with a more or less faulty pronunciation, but plenty of life and vehemence. This

ot been seen at the Abbey House yet. He had returned to Briarwood before th

uties, and has done with u

sodden earth, and sending up an odour of dead leaves. The smooth shining laurels in the shrubbery were the only things in nature that seemed no worse for the perpetual downpour. The gravel drives were spongy and sloppy. There was no hunting, or Vixe

. At five precisely, Pauline was to bring her a cup of tea. At half-past five she was to begin to dress. This would give her an hour and a half for her toilet, as Briarwood was only

e deep embrasure of the hall window, with Argus at her s

ak shutter. Yet the girl and dog made rather a pretty picture, despite the inelegance of Vixen’s attitude. The tawny hair, black velvet frock, and careless amber sash, amber stockings, and broad-toed Cromwell shoes; the tawny mastiff

ould think Nature had taken a dislike to me. But I don’t suppose Rorie cares. He is playing billiards with a lot of

ery kind, and behind them a dense black screen of yew. The late roses looked miserable. Vixen would have liked to have brought them in and put them by the hall fire — the good old hear

orld, and did not feel equal to groping out the difficulties, the inexorable double sharps and odious double flats, in a waltz of Chopin’s. She wat

oped over the big brown eyes, the little locked hands loosened, the soft round chin fell forward on the knees; Argus gave a snort of satisfaction, and laid his heavy

assuredly to be lost

ftly out of the rain, all dripping like a water god? Who was this whose falcon eye took in the picture at a glance, and who stole cat-

opened and looked into the dark gray ones. The ruddy brown head rested on Rorie’s shoulder. The girl — half child, half woman, and all loving trustfulness, looked up at him with a glad smile. His

” exclaimed Vixen, giving him a vigorous push, and scrambling down from t

d had found life empty without him. But having had just time enough to recover herself, she drew herself up as straight as a dart, and

ie. “Do you know how long

t idea,” retorted

half-an-hour since I was deposited with all my g

just home from

n this

not even been

r still awaits my

-first birthday, and you

d on to his shoulder again, and the sweet ch

brown you

ve

rown ones admiringly, and the convers

dy “rising sixteen” to let herself be kissed so tamely. Besides, Rorie never used to do it. The thing was a new deve

laimed Vixen, shaking herself free

ocently; “and when a fellow comes home from

im both her hands with a glorious frankness; “but

, Vi

you had forgotten us all — that yo

f you, and I did care — ve

h vague, wa

looked black under their black lashes. His black hair was cut close to his well-shaped head. An incipient moustache shaded his upper lip, and g

e — from throwing the hammer to pugilism. Vixen thought him the image of Richard Coeur de Lion.

,” she said softly. “To think that yo

ast stroke of midnight yesterday. I wonder whet

ng to happen at Briarwood. Ther

re coming?

on in town. He calls it having me broken to harness. He’ll take a furnished house, and we shall hav

If papa wil

be my first season, you know, and

lty?” demanded Roder

en’t had my own way

is

ve been

attery, Roderick

n. Vixen,” he re

ose I do grow. My frocks ar

of my dress-coats

at are you going to be, Rorie? What are you going to

dulged in a su

on my word I don’t care about it. I don’t t

be anxious to legislate f

er. And in fact, when one considers the looseness of existing game

e Forest for you

bliged to turn senator. But I mean to take life easily — you may be sure of that, Vixen;

ll eight. If you leave here at six you will have no en

ese tw

the new mare. You don’t know her, do you? Papa only bought her last spring. She is such a beauty

be smashed on one’s twenty-first birthday. Will

part of our bargain. No kettledrum, no Starlight Bess! And you’d

ny hazard of maternal wrath. But really now I’m doin

sake — if it’s ungentlemanly to com

Rorie might have been tempted to commit a third offence against the proprieties, if Miss McCroke had not fortunately entered at this very moment. She was w

e fire, please, Crokey dear. One can’t have too much of a good fire th

a here, Violet,” interjected M

olroom, half boudoir, and wholly untidy — was not, in Miss McCroke’s

me ever so far out of his way to see me, please

d kettle, and the yellow cups and saucers, were shining in the cheery firelight. The old butler put a sirloin and

child making tea out of toy tea-things. Rorie brought a low square stool to a c

st beef in that po

t I want beef, though it is nearly three months since I’ve seen an honest bit of ox beef. I thi

g your appetite for the g

harmonise best with one’s internal economy. And then the names of the things are always better than the things themselves. It’s like a show at a

beef, dear Miss Mc

n’t eat now. I’m going

save that a human sentinel, unless idiotic or intoxicated, would hardly sit with jaws wide apart, and his tongue hanging out of one si

ie?” asked Vixen, turning her bright b

my mother for it. She was my only guardian, you know. My father had such co

od much improved?” i

ing a good deal to he

yet,” answered Rorie, “and Vixen s

you only jus

y ju

Jane yet?” exclaimed Miss Mc

was awfully tired, after travelling all nig

than anyone side,” remarked Vixen, gravely. “At

. But I wanted to see whether Vixen had

rse; but you’ll see him at the grand dinne

eeable tour, Mr. Vawdr

commonl

like Swit

s nice an

vels, while they sipped their tea, and while Vixen made

together, without the least regard to geography. He had done a good deal of climbing, had worn out

ing it to-morrow — with a little cock-robin that

ly!” crie

k in a corner of the ha

arlight Bess not ordere

suggested Vixen. “And then I can show you my pony

rness. “Do you suppose I would permit y

er order the cart,” she added meekly, as she rang the bell. “I’m not of age yet, you see, Rorie. Pl

tapestry seemed to move in the flickering light — appeared and vanished, vanished and appeared, like the phantoms of a dream. The carved bosses of the ceiling were reflected grotesquely on the oaken wall above the tapest

an awakening influence upon most people, acted as an opiate

himself with

, I shall hardly get to Briarwood by dinner-time,” he said; “

!” cried Vixen, with her brown eyes dancing mischievously. “T

should hear too much about it afterwards. A fellow’s mother has

the door, letting in a gust of wind and rain, a

r you — quite a humble one for a grand young land-owner like you — but I never could save much of my pocket-money; there are so many poor children alw

ket into his hand, which he

ve it, what

a port

very thing I shoul

of someone y

adore,” s

a thick oblong locket of dead gold, plain and massive; the h

eagerly, to look

from the newly-kindled vesti

Rorie, with deep-toned d

you think

of c

us. Doesn’t his head come out beautifully? The photographer said he was the best s

old, all the same. And I am to go about the world with Argus dangling at my

ht, and then the young man swung himself lightly into the seat beside the driver, and away went Starlight Bess making just that soft of dashing and spirited start which