"That we will, Sir Richard. And now we are in for it, for here comes our first adventure. Is she ugly or is she fair? Which, Sir Richard?"
For, as we reached the point where our road joins the river road, we saw, approaching along the lower road, a gentleman riding on a powerful horse, while behind him on a pillion sat a slight girlish figure, hidden in part by the broad shoulders of the rider.
"By Jove, it is Gordon of the Braes," said Dick.
"What, the suspected Tory?"
"Yes; and that must be his daughter. They say she is the fairest lass in all the county of Cecil."
"Tory or no Tory," said I, "with a fair face at stake, I will speak to him."
They were as yet some distance off, but as the rider drew nearer to us we saw that he was a splendid specimen of manhood, such as I had but seldom seen before.
While strong of frame and above the medium height, he carried himself and rode with a courtliness and ease that bespoke the accomplished horseman and gentleman. His splendid head and face showed the marks of an adventurous career, and all bespoke the blood of the family from which he had sprung, the Gordons of Avochie.
But striking as was the figure of the rider, the glimpse we caught of the fair burden behind made us for the moment forget him.
A slender figure it was that sat upon the pillion, with wonderful eyes of the darkest blue and hair of the deepest brown that waved and clustered around the temples—a mouth that was winsome and sweet, a small and aristocratic nose, a chin that was slightly determined, giving her altogether a queenly air, as she sat so straight and prim behind her father.