"Miss Brereton and Lady Alice, with Errington and myself, are going to ride over to Melford Abbey to-morrow. You will, I hope, be of the party?"
"Thank you. I do not ride."
"It is rather refreshing to meet a young lady who is not horsy, but it is a loss to yourself not to ride."
"I dare say it is. Yet what one has never known cannot be a loss. I am sorry I was not accustomed to ride in my youth."
"It is not too late to learn, remote as that period must be," said De Burgh, smiling. "You are in the headquarters of horsemen and horsewomen at present. Appoint me your riding-master, and in a couple of months I shall be proud of my pupil."
"I am not particularly brave," she returned, "and the experiment would produce more pain than pleasure."
"Pain! nothing of the kind. I have a capital lady's horse, steady as a rock, splendid pacer, temper of an angel. He is quite at your service. Let me telegraph for him, and begin your lessons the day after to-morrow." De Burgh raised himself from his lounging position, and leaned forward to urge his pleading more earnestly. "Let me persuade you. You will thank me hereafter."
"Thank you," said Katherine, shaking her head. "It is too late. I shall never learn how to ride, but I should like to know how to drive."
"There I can be of use to you too. You will want an instructor. Pray take me!"
The last words, spoken a little louder than the rest, caught Mrs. Ormonde's ear as she was crossing the room, and she paused beside her sister-in-law to ask, "Take him for what?—for better or worse, Katherine?"