Then observing that Kate was looking his way, as she held one arm affectionately around her horse’s neck, he moved towards the gate, saying.
“I think Miss Aylesford would like me to try Arab.”
“Will you canter him for a few minutes?” Kate whispered. “Aunt is really too timorous. Perhaps she’d have more confidence if she could see how gently Arab will go, when ridden properly.”
A saddle was placed on Arab’s back, when the Major, vaulting into the seat, cantered as far as the church and back, Arab going to the admiration alike of Kate and of her aunt, his fine action pleasing the one, and the readiness with which he obeyed his rider gratifying the other.
“He moves beautifully,” said the Major. “If I may presume, Miss Aylesford, will you ride with me to-morrow? I can assure you, Mrs. Warren,” he said, turning to her aunt, “there is no danger.”
Kate assented with secret pleasure, and directly after wards Major Gordon took his leave.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RIDE
I wish I were as I have been,
Hunting the hart in forest green.
With bended bow and bloodhound free,
For that’s the life is meet for me. —Scott.
Gather the rose-buds while you may,
Old Time is still a-flying. —Herrick.
If Major Gordon had thought Kate charming, in her simple morning dress, he considered her transcendently beautiful on horseback. The easy, graceful seat; the light bridle hand; the erect figure; and the animation which the pastime kindled in eye and cheek, rendered her doubly lovely to his mind. She seemed to fulfill every requirement for that beau-ideal which he had long sighed after as unattainable, and which should unite in one person a Rosalind, an Imogen, and a Portia.