The cup was a great success. Eleven started, and three made a most artistic finish—scarcely a length between first and third. The farmers of the present day ride very differently from their ancestors of fifty years ago, whose highest ambition was to pound along after the slow, sure "currant-jelly dogs."
Go down into the Vale of Belvoir; watch one of the duke's tenants handing a five-year old over the Smite, and say if the modern agriculturists might not boast with Tydides,
"ἡμεῖς δὴ πατέρων μέγ᾽ ἀμείνονες εὐχόμεθ᾽ εἶναι."
"hêmeis dê paterôn meg' ameinones euchometh' einai."
They are getting so erudite, too, that I dare say they would quote it in the original.
When all was over, and they were returning to Kerton, Guy ranged up to his cousin's side. He looked rather embarrassed and penitent—an expression which sat upon his stern, resolute face very strangely. But Isabel was radiant with happiness, and did not even sigh as she held out the forfeited ring. He put it back with a decided gesture of his hand, and, leaning over her, whispered something in her ear. I don't know how they arranged it; but Miss Raymond wore the turquoises at the next county ball—the ring, to her dying day.
CHAPTER X.
"Souvent femme varie;
Bien fol est, qui s'y fie."