He crossed the stile, helped her over, put her into the cart, got in himself and gathered up the reins.
"Better get up behind, Hugh," said he.
Caunter reddened slightly and hung back. These two were married only yesterday.
"Yes, you had better. I don't want to have to stable your mare till you come for her," bade his master.
He yielded and jumped up.
With a tact which spoke well for him, he said a few words to Gaunt as they drove, until the quick motion through the air revived Virginia completely, and she began to ask one or two eager questions about the neighbourhood. He found himself speaking of the beauties of Dovedale, of the weird limestone caverns of the Peak, and of the Druid circle at Arbor Low. She was interested. To Caunter it seemed but a minute before they stood at the drive gate of Omberleigh. His head was whirling. He jumped down to open the gate, and said:
"If you don't mind, I will leave you to take Mrs. Gaunt to the door. I want to speak to Emerson."
He opened the gate, and was about to disappear into the lodge, which was occupied by the head gardener, when Gaunt called him back for some message with regard to cucumbers. As he was speaking, bending down over the side of the cart, the sound of horse's feet upon the road became audible, and a rider hove in sight, who drew rein promptly and shouted a greeting.
He was a somewhat showy young man, with a chestnut moustache and eyes set too close together. He rode a fine beast, and was got up in leggings and cord breeches.
"Why, hang me if it isn't true!" he cried hilariously. "They told me you had been taken prisoner, Gaunt, and I refused to believe it. Bet Charlie Myers two to one against, down at the Market Hall yesterday. But"—raising his hat, and riding up close to Virginia—"when one sees the lady, the whole thing becomes clear. Poor old chap! you never had a chance. Present me, won't you?"