To which Mrs. Lockhart, who had all that morning worn upon her gentle countenance an expression of mysterious presage, strangely alien to her customary aspect of guileless amenity, replied, mantling with a smile, “Quite ready, Mr. Grant.”
“At nine o’clock, then, we will set out. Marion, get on your riding-habit; you and Mr. Lancaster must accompany us on horseback.”
Philip and Marion looked inquiringly at each other, and then at their elders, and Philip said: “Is this another Popish plot?”
“Nothing so unsubstantial,” Mr. Grant replied. “Mrs. Lockhart and I are going to drive to Richmond Hill, and Marion and you are to escort us. The carriage and the horses will be at the door an hour hence. So—no cookery and no poetry in this house to-day!”
Marion went round to her mother and kissed her cheek. “But Mr. Grant is having a bad effect on you, mamma,” she said. “You never kept a secret from me before!”
By nine o’clock everything and everybody were ready. Philip, booted and spurred, and with a feather in his steeple-crowned hat, was as handsome as one of the heroes of his own poems, who, indeed, all, more or less, resembled him, and Marion had never looked so well as in her dark blue riding-habit. As for Mrs. Lockhart and Mr. Grant, they were at least as youthful as any of the party, and the June morning glorified them all. The two elder people took their seats in the carriage; Philip helped Marion into her saddle and then leaped into his own; the coachman gathered up his reins and they started off. In a few minutes they were moving along the broad highway toward Kew Bridge, Marion and Philip riding side by side in advance. The tall elms shook green shadows from their rustling leaves, interspersed with sunbeams and sweet bird-voices; veils of thinnest cloud softened the tender horizon and drew in tranquil arcs across the higher blue. A westerly breeze, coming from the coolness where the dawn was still beginning, breathed past their faces and sent freshness to their hearts. The horses shook their heads and stretched their limbs, and slanted forward anticipative ears. Marion’s cheeks were red and her eyes sparkled.
“I wish Richmond Hill were t’other side the world,” she said, “and we to ride there!”
“I would ride with you as far as that, and then home the other way,” said Philip.
“We should lose our road, perhaps.”
“No matter, if we did not lose each other.”