"Nonsense! how should they dislike it? There's no sort of danger, you know. Come! I thought you sat wonderfully for a beginner. I am surprised De Courcy hadn't better eyes. I guess you have learned German before, Ellen? Come, will you?"
But Ellen declined, preferring her plodding walk round the ring to any putting of herself forward. Presently Mr. Lindsay came in. It was the first time he had been there. His eye soon singled out Ellen.
"My daughter sits well," he remarked to the riding-master.
"A merveille! Mademoiselle Lindesay does ride remarquablement pour une beginner qui ne fait que commencer. Would it be possible that she has had no lessons before?"
"Why, yes, she has had lessons of what sort I don't know," said Mr. Lindsay, going up to Ellen. "How do you like it, Ellen?"
"I don't like it at all, Sir."
"I thought you were so fond of riding."
"I don't call this riding, Sir."
"Ha! what do you call riding? Here, M. De Courcy, won't you have the goodness to put this young lady on another horse, and see if she knows anything about handling him?"
"With great pleasure!" M. De Courcy would do anything that was requested of him. Ellen was taken out of the ring of walkers and mounted on a fine animal, and set by herself to have her skill tried in as many various ways as M. De Courcy's ingenuity could point out. Never did she bear herself more erectly; never were her hand and her horse's mouth on nicer terms of acquaintanceship; never, even to please her master, had she so given her whole soul to the single business of managing her horse and herself perfectly well. She knew, as little as she cared, that a number of persons besides her friends were standing to look at her. She thought of only two people there, Mr. Lindsay and her aunt; and the riding-master, as his opinions might affect theirs.