They cantered down the avenue in gallant style. Ida was an expert rider; and her escort appeared to as much advantage on horseback as on foot.
"A handsome couple!" said Arthur.
Charley made no reply. "You do your teacher justice," he said, as Ida leaped to the ground, barely touching Mr. Lacy's hand.
"And more could not be said for master or pupil;" she answered, saucily.
"Morning rides are wonderful cosmetics!" he whispered, following her into the hall. She snapped her whip at him, but those mischievous eyes were too searching, and she ran off "to change her dress."
"I am for a walk to the river. Who accompanies me?" said John Dana. Ida held the taper at which he was kindling a cigar—his invariable after-breakfast luxury—and the flame was paled by her vivid glow, as Mr. Lacy said quietly, "I will, sir, with pleasure."
In an hour they returned, and the summons—"Mr. Dana's respects, and if you please ma'am, he wants the pleasure of your company in the drawing-room," robbed her of the last spark of self-possession. She stopped at the door, to muster courage; but her guardian had heard her step, and opened it from within. "I have no lecture for you," he said, passing his arm assuringly around her. "This is an event, we fathers have to bear, as best we may. I am fortunate that your choice has my unqualified sanction. You have acted wisely, nobly, my daughter."
"Dear Mr. Dana! I feared you would think me uncommunicative; but I did not know it myself until within a day or two."
"I am advised of the incidents of your drama. Never try to convince me again, that you are an unromantic young lady! What is your evidence, Mr. Lacy?"