Norston's Rest. Ann S. Stephens

seemed to hesitate. Lady Rose saw this, and, with a hot flush on her face, ran down the steps.

      Young Hurst was by her side in a second, but she sprang to the saddle, scarcely touching his proffered hand with her foot; then wheeled the chestnut on one side, and waited for the rest to mount.

      Down came the party, filling the broad stairway with shifting colors, chatting, laughing, and occasionally giving out little affected screams, as one fell short of the saddle, or endangered her seat by a too vigorous leap; but all this only added glee to the occasion, and a gayer party than that never left the portal of "Norston's Rest" even in the good old hawking days of long ago.

      Young Hurst took his place by the side of Lady Rose, and was about to lead the cavalcade down the broad avenue, which swept through more than a mile of the park before it reached the principal entrance gate, but instantly there arose a clamor of feminine opposition.

      "Not that way! It would lead them in the wrong direction; let them take a run through the park. They would have rougher riding than that before the day was over."

      Young Hurst seemed disturbed by this proposal; he even ventured to expostulate with his father's guests. "The park was rough in places," he said, "and the side entrance narrow for so large a party."

      His argument was answered by a merry laugh. The ladies turned their horses defiantly, and a cloud of red coats followed them. Away to the right the whole cavalcade took its way where the sun poured its golden streams on the turf under the trees, or scattered itself among the leaves of the hoary old oaks that in places grew dangerously close together.

      As they drew toward that portion of the park known as "The Wilderness," a wonderfully pretty picture arrested the swift progress of the party, and the whole cavalcade moved more slowly as it came opposite a small rustic cottage of stone, old, moss-grown, and picturesque, wherever its hoary walls could be seen, through masses of ivy and climbing roses. One oriel window was discovered through the white jasmine that clustered around it, and the verbenas, heliotrope, and scarlet geraniums that crept beneath it from the ground.

      The vast park, in whose deepest and coolest verdure this little dwelling stood, was like a world in itself; but through the noble old trees the stately mansion-house they had left could be seen in glimpses from this more humble dwelling. This stood on the edge of a ravine, left in all its ferny wildness, through which a stream of crystal water leaped and sparkled, and sent back soft liquid murmurs, as it flowed down in shadows, or leaped in bright cascades to a lake that lay in the wildest and lowest depths of the park, as yet invisible. Young Hurst had urged his horse forward when he came in sight of this wood-nest, and an angry flush swept over his face when the party slackened its speed to a walk, and for an instant stopped altogether, as it came in front of the rustic porch; for there, as if startled by the sudden rush of hoofs, stood a young girl, framed in by the ivy and jasmine. She had one foot on the threshold of the door, and was looking back over her left shoulder, as if held in that charming attitude by a sudden impulse of curiosity while she was retreating. Two or three exclamations broke from the gentlemen, who were taken by surprise by this beautiful picture; for in her pose, in the dark frightened eyes, and the warm coloring of face and garments, the girl was a wonder of picturesque beauty.

      "Who is she? Where did the pretty gipsy come from?" questioned one of the gentlemen nearest to Hurst. "Upon my word, she hardly seems real."

      "She is the daughter of my father's gardener," said Hurst, lifting his hunting-cap as the girl's eyes sought him out in her sudden panic. "Shall we ride on, gentlemen? Our presence seems to disturb her."

      "Is it true? Is the pretty thing only a gardener's child?" questioned one of the ladies, drawing close to Lady Rose.

      "She certainly is only that," was the low, almost forced answer. "We have always thought her pretty, and she is certainly good."

      Hurst heard this and turned a grateful look upon the fair girl. She saw it, and for an instant the color left her face. Then she touched her horse, and the cavalcade dashed after her through the depths of the park and into the open country, where the hounds were to meet, all feeling in a different way that there was some mystery in the living picture they had admired.

CHAPTER II.

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      THE HILL-SIDE HOUSE.

      AT the grand entrance of the park a young man had been waiting with a desperate determination to take some part in the hunt, though he was well aware that his presence in such company must be an intrusion; for he was the only son of a farmer on the estate, and had just received education enough to unfit him for usefulness in his own sphere of life and render his presumption intolerable to those above him.

      He had not ventured on a full hunting-suit, but wore the cap, boots, and gloves with an air that should, he was determined, distinguish him from any of the grooms, and perhaps admit him into the outskirts of the hunt, if audacity could accomplish nothing more. The horse, which he sat with some uneasiness, had been purchased for the occasion unknown to his father, who had intrusted the selection of a farm-horse to his judgment, and was quite ignorant that the beast had been taken out for any other purpose. As the young man rode this horse up and down in sight of the gate, a groom came through and answered, when questioned about the hunting party, that it had started half an hour before across the park.

      With an oath at the time he had lost, young Storms put the horse to his speed and was soon in the open country, but the animal, though a good one, was no match for the full-blooded action for which Sir Noel's stables were famous. After riding across the country for an hour, as it seemed to him, wondering what course the hunt would take, the horse suddenly lifted his ears, gathered up his limbs, and, before his rider could guide the movement, leaped a low wall into a corn-field and was scouring toward some broken land beyond, when a flash of darkness shot athwart his path, and the fox, routed from his covert, dashed across the field. After it came the dogs, red-mouthed with yelping, clearing the hedges with scattered leaps, and darting swiftly, as shot arrows, in the track of the fox.

      After them came the hunt, storming across the field, over walls and ditches, and winding up the long slope of the hill, scattering rays of scarlet flame as it went.

      The rush of the dogs, the desperate speed of the fox, maddened Storms, as the first bay of the hounds had inspired his horse. He plunged on like the rest, eager and cruel as the hounds. For once he would be in at the death.

      Storms had done some rough riding in preparation for this event, but he lacked the cool courage that aids a horse in a swift race or dangerous leap. In wild excitement he wheeled and made a dash at the wall. The horse took his leap bravely, but a ditch lay on the other side, and he fell short, hurling his rider among the weeds and brambles that had concealed its depths.

      The young man was stunned by the sudden shock, and lay for a time motionless among the weeds that had probably saved his life, but he gathered himself up at last and looked around. The hunt was just sweeping over the crest of the hill, and half-way up its face his horse was following, true to its instincts.

      The young man felt too giddy for anger, and for a time his mind was confused; still no absolute injury had happened to him, and after gathering up his cap and dusting his garments, he would have been quite ready to mount again, and saw his horse go over the hill with an oath which might have been changed to blows had the beast been within his control.

      The scenery around him was in some respects familiar, but he could not recognize it from that standpoint or determine how far he was from home. In order to make himself sure of this he mounted the hill, from whence he could command a view of the country.

      A lovely prospect broke upon the young man when he paused to survey it: below him lay a broad valley, composed of a fine expanse of forest and farming land, through which a considerable stream sparkled and wound and sent its huddling crystal through green hollows and shady places till its course was lost in the distance.

      This river Storms knew well. It