Not until the others have well departed does Markham bring round the ponies; and as he puts the reins into my hands he utters a gentle warning.
"I thought it safer to let the other horses get a bit of a start first, ma'am," he says. "You might spare the whip to-day, I'm thinking; they're that fresh as it will give you enough to do to hold 'em."
"All right, Markham," says my companion, gayly; "I will see your mistress does not irritate them to madness."
The pretty animals in question toss their heads knowingly, then lower them, and finally start away down the avenue, round the corner, pass the beeches, and out into the open road.
The air is fresh and soft, the speed, to say the least of it enlivening, and for a mile or so I know thorough enjoyment then my arms, begin to drag.
"How they do pull!" I say, with a petulant sigh.
"Let me have the reins," exclaims Sir Mark, eagerly; "you will be exhausted if you try to hold those fretful creatures for the next six miles. You are hardly strong enough for the task." And, with a gesture that is almost relief I resign to him my seat.
"That would be the nearest road to Carston, supposing we had started from Summerleas," I say presently, as we come to one particular turn. "Oh, how often, long ago, I used to travel it! What years and years and years seem to have gone by since last spring! What changes have occurred! and yet in reality only a few short months have passed."
"Happy changes, I hope, Mrs. Carrington."
"For me? Yes, indeed. When first you knew me I was the most insignificant person among us at home, and now I think I have all I ever wished for." Sir Mark smiles.