It was the eve of the great meet at Hollingsby, and, as on the morning just described, the event of the season to which every one was looking eagerly forward. Mr. Mountford knew the keen delight with which his wife anticipated this gathering, and he had ever been proud to see her the centre of admiring eyes, as they rode to Hollingsby together.
How disappointed she would be that the new purchase had come too late for her to use! What could be done in the short time that remained? Anything rather than she should not take her usual place.
A few moments' thought, and Mr. Mountford went to his wife's room to tell her of his plan. She was not there, or in the nursery, and one of the servants said, "Mrs. Mountford is out, sir. I don't think she's off the place, for she wasn't dressed for a proper walk."
Mr. Mountford instinctively turned towards the stables, and met his wife on the threshold.
"I have been looking at your new horse, Kenneth," she said. "He really improves on acquaintance, so far as appearance goes," she added, with marked emphasis on the last words.
Mr. Mountford noticed this, but made no comment.
"I have been thinking, dear, that you might ride my hunter to-morrow, and I will take the other horse, which is as good in everything but looks."
"I shall do nothing of the kind, Kenneth. I may be selfish, but I am not so selfish as to deprive you of your usual mount. I shall not accompany you to Hollingsby. Still, I must not forget my manners. Thank you for offering me your animal."
Mrs. Mountford dropped a demure little curtsey, then turned towards the house, without heeding whether her husband followed or not. She had given him a fresh sting, she knew, but she was not in the mood to care for having hurt his feelings. As to the husband, how could he help being displeased?
"She must take her own wilful way," he decided. "For once she shall punish herself; and I know it will be no light punishment for her to stay away from the meet to-morrow."