On a False Scent.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, 24 December 1907, Page 25

On a False Scent.

By

The winter evening had closed in rapidly, and outside the weather was clear, crisp and cold. In the draw-ing-room at Te Nui the large hack log burnt bravely, with the cheering crackle and sputter of a squadron on the firing line; the blinds had not yet been drawn, for the housemaid had not as yet appeared to light the lamp, and but for the blaze from the fire the room would have been in dcLrkn os s. A tall man, booted and bearded and burned to a brick, lay lazily stretched out in a big, soft-cushioned armchair by the fire. 'He was looking curiously at the broad, symmetrical back of a man seated at the farther end of the room, at a piano, playing softly a seductive bass movement reminiscent of “ The old folks at home.” The player also was breeched, booted, and spurred. His hands gleamed snowwhite in the sparkle of the huge rata log and the end of his curly moustache silhouetted a giant shadow on the white wall above the piano. There was witchery in the magic of his fingers, for, though but an indifferent instrumentalist, there was soul in Probyne’s music; and the plaintive melody, pronounced yet subdued in the bass where the air rolled out, stirred his listeners more than a little. . “ Probyne,” suddenly said the third man in the room, “for heaven’s sake sing us a hunting song. You will give me the blue-devils if you go on with that!” The speaker sat right back from the fire, ,in the darkest corner. He was glad of it, for Acland Bourke had tears in his eyes, that he would not have had his rival see for anything. “Right you are, ord man!” replied the hunter-poet of New Zealand. "Here’s one the idea of which I got from dear old Harry Crawford.” A few brilliant arpeggios, a care-fully-modulated change of key, and the player trolled out nis hunting song in a rich, merry, jovial voice: When the air is keen and bracing-, And the dappled darlings racingTo the front, across the meadows, going strong; Ride- your line, and ride to keep it, Never mind the wire, leap it, Send ’em along, my boys. Send ’em along ! Send ’em along through field and furrow, Over bush, and burn, and burrow; Such rare moments seldom last for very long; With your horses pulling double, Banish thoughts of grief or trouble, Send ’em along, boys! Send ’em along! Send ’em along! “ Yoicks! Whoo —whoop! Worry! Worry ! Worry ! Worry!” yelled the bearded listener in the chair, leaping to his feet as if electrified. “ Send ’em along ! Tally-ho! Gone away! Gone away! Gone away! Go — ne away!” screamed Bourke hysterically from his dark corner. While the second verse was in progress three ladies m riding habits walked quickly on to the verandah and looked in through the big French window. “ Mr. Probyne at the piano, Jim, and Mr. Bourke,” said Nita Muirhead, explaining the situation to her two companions. “Full of whisky, I suppose!” sneered beautiful Mrs. Guise with ill-dis-guised contempt. “Oh, no! How can you say so?” answered Eleanor D’Aubigny. “Why, Mr.. Probyne is playing faultlessly.” “ I was not referring to him,” said Mrs. Guise r with a marked inflection on the last pronoun. “ Oh! ” said Nita Muirhead. . . . Miss D'Aubigny remained silent.. The man at the piano commenced a third verse: There’s a babbling penny-a-liner Who thinks no girl’s deviner Than a charming little Geisha at Hongkong; If you know of other fairies Then your duty to him there is To send ’em along, my boys! Send ’em along! Send ’em along, he’ll stand the racket, Silken hose or sealskin jacket, Gloves of Normandy or blacelet of Shillong; Life is short, and Time is fleeting, Here’s a very merry meeting, Oh! send ’em along, boys! Send ’em along ! Send ’em along! “ Send ’em along! Send ’em along!” shouted the other two men with infinite gusto. The handsome widow outside said: “ Hum! How elevating! Mr, Probyne is in a remarkably liberal frame of mind; let us effect a climax!”

F. D’A. C. DE L’ISLE.

(All Rights Reserved.)

She quickly raised the latch and stepped into the room, followed by her two companions. “We have returned!” she said sweetly, and swept the three men a mocking curtsey. “Great Scott!” said Jim Lennox, the bearded man. springing from his chair. “To help us pass tne desert!” said Probyne, rising quickly and shaking hands with the ladies. “ The house was empty, but for Jim, when Bourke and I rode over!” He dwelt a long moment over Eleanor D’Aubigny’s hand.

“We have had a glorious run!” said Nita Muirhead. “ Dad and mother will be back soon; we passed the drag a couple of miles back.” She looked straight at Bourke but he had , no eyes for anyone but Eleanor D Aubigny. “ Well?” said Jim Lennox to Mrs.

Guise. “Well?” pouted the young widow, tantalisingly. “What is it now?” asked Lennox. “What? Well, let me think! I want some gloves from Normandy, a sealskin jacket, and a bracelet—from —er —Hongkong!” said Mrs. Guise. There was general laughter. “Nothing else!” asked Lennox pointedly. “What a fine time you men have when we’re not with you!” said Mrs. Guise. “ Think so ,” asked Lennox. “We have to console ourselves somehow!” “Poor men!” sighed little Nita. “How awfully bored you must get!” More laughter followed. Then the general barking of the dogs at their kennels announced the return of the Muirhead drag. “ Here comes mother,” said Nita. “I am going to help her in. Coming, Jessie ” to Mrs. Guise (nee Jessie Muirhead). “No. Take Eleanor. I want to tell Jim all about the run.” She had learnt much of the world ■since her marriage, four years ago, and during two years of widowhood she had become clever. She knew that Probyne wotfd follow wherever Eleanor D’Aubigny went; Bourke would follow, too, and she would be alone with Jim Lennox. Everything happened as she anticipated—she was left alone with Jim Lennox.

Matchless Jim Lennox was a cousin three times removed to the Muirhead girls. He had been overseer, under Muirhead, senior, at Te Nui, for nearly six years. An Australian by birth, of good Scotch parentage, Jim Lennox had passed the whole of 20 years in Queensland on his father’s station. There he learned everything that could be learned about stock, and there he became the finest rider in Australia. There had never been a horse foaled that could throw him, nor had the man been born who could teach him anything about riding. When his father died, brokenhearted, ruined by drought and rabbit pest, Jim Lennox gathered his few belongings together and joined his relations in New Zealand. Muirhead, senior, soon found how useful a man he had in his young relative, and Jim Lennox remained on as overseer at a salary of £l2O a year and his keep. This, together with the £BO a year he got from his father’s estate, kept. him handsomely as a bachelor. Jessie Muirhead had fallen in love with Jim Lennox at first sight and though she pursued him for two years with unflagging energy, Jim Lennox never proposed. He flirted with her, but there he stopped. When Dick Guise, an Englishman, wealthy and handsome, came out to New Zealand for his health. Jessie Muirhead was introduced to him in the hunting field, and within two months of the introduction had become Mrs. Richard Guise. Two years afterwards her husband died of consumption, and Mrs. Guise found herself sole successor under his will to the Guise estates in Kent, which produced a rent roll of over £ 4000 a year. As a girl Jessie Muirhead had been a scrawny, freckled, and badly-groom-ed hobbledehoy, whom Jim Lennox could never look at with the eye of admiration. But matrimony and travel had made a most marvellous difference. Mrs. Guise returned to Te Nui after the death of her husband a tall, svelte woman, with a beautiful figure, a halo of auburn hair, and a complexion like fresh cream and cher-

ries. Her 24 years sat lightly on her, and only the plain gold ring on her marriage finger showed that she was anything more than a magnificent, full-blooded girl of 17. She set about the captivation of her old flame with a determination that pointed to almost certain reward. After Nita Muirhead, Miss D’Aubigny, Probyne, and Bourke had left the room, the lovely widow turned to Lennox, who was once more ensconced in the big arm chair. , “Well?” she queried. “Well?” answered Lennox gazing abstractedly into the fire. “A penny for your thoughts!” she said, going quickly over to the armchair, and taking a seat on one of its padded arms. “ Not for sale!” answered Lennox, recovering himself. “ How did you enjoy the run?” “Immensely! Everybody. was there!” “Ah! Create a sensation?” “ H’m —yes; I think so!” —dubiously. “ I felt sure of it. How did Culloden carry you ?” “ Beautifully ! Oh, Jim, what a magnificent hunter you have made out of him!” she gushed. “ Did you go straight?” he asked, again abstractedly. “As the crow flies ! Only Pelly, Jim Stanway, Jack Rayneford, and a man from Hawke’s Bay—Medicis, I think his name is—saw it . out with me.” . . - , “ I knew you would get thereabouts. Er —where did Nita finish ?” There was a masterly indifference in the tone. “ Oh, with the field. Nelly D’Aubigny craned at the first fence and then took to the roads. Oh, Jim, how can I thank you enough for finding me such a perfect hunter ?” Her hand strayed to the. brown curls oyer his forehead, which she toyed with lovingly. His face was curiously flushed. Under the tan ’of 20 years a smouldering fire was burning. He seemed uncomfortable, almost shrinking from her touch. “Oh, nothing to worry about. Er —what horse did Nita ride ? I was away with the sheep before you started this morning.” “Nita rode Dolly Mops, Jean’s old hunter, and he went fairly well, I think.” She rolled a curl round her finger, and patted it on his forehead. “And Miss D’Aubigny?” he falteringly asked. “ She rode the brown steeplechaser —that old Grand National winner you men always make such a fuss about. He’s clean gone in front. He got over the first fence with a terrible scramble; then he pecked, and very nearly stood on his head. I thought he was going to turn a somersault —” “ Good heavens! ” It was almost a groan, with a sting of pain in it there was no mistaking. Lennox had betrayed his concern for fair Eleanor D’Aubigny. For one moment the widow’s heart stood still. “ It would have been an awful thing if Miss D’Aubigny had met with an accident on a Te Nui hunter! Who on earth put her up on Doubloon ? They might have, provided a safer <- conveyance for our visitor. But I don’t think old Dub so unsafe after ■ all. He’s as clever as a cat;hehas never fallen with me.” His tone was so natural that, she was almost - deceived by it.” _ . “ With you ? _Oh, you could ride a clothes-horse over fences without coming to grief! But Nelly has no, hands. She thinks reins were made ■- to hang on by, and she sits on her saddle like a monkey sticking to a dog in a circus steeplechase—”. “I will see that Miss D’Aubigny has a safer mount next time. What a pity.it is that all women cannot ride like you.” He looked up smilingly into her face. Her dashing horse- . womanship always appealed to him. She bent fondly over him. “ I can only ride horses that have been ‘ made’ by you Jim.” Bourke’s voice was heard outside on the verandah. “ Come through the window, Miss D’Aubigny; it is much shorter,” The pretty widow discreetly left her seat on the arm of Lennox’s chair, and sat herself down in the dark corner formerly occupied by Bourke. The window opened, and Eleanor D’Aubigny entered, shepherded by Bourke and Probyne. “We are off to dress for dinner, Lennox,” said Probyne. “ Muirhead has put us up in the barracks. Miss D’Aubigny, I shall count the moments until we meet again.” “ You gentlemen will spoil Nelly,” said Mrs. Guise. “Flattery is so insincere.” “ I am sure no flattery would ever affect Miss D’Aubigny,” said Bourke eagerly. “ She is too much above the seductive powers of compliment.”

“If you don’t go at once, Mr. Bourke, you will keep us all waiting for dinner/’ said Miss D’Aubigny archly. “Then you will learn how cross I can be, for really I am dreadfully hungry.” Bourke hurried from the room without any further hesitation. " I must go, too,” said Lennox. “ Ladies also have to dress,” said Mrs. Guise. “Are you not afraid of being late, Nelly?” very pointedly. “No; I can dress very quickly,”-re-plied Miss D’Aubigny, with a significant look at Probyne. “ I hear you were badly mounted today,” said Lennox to Miss D’Aubigny, his tall form towering over the slight and fragile girl before him. “ I will see that you have a far more comfortable conveyance next time!” A jealotis pang shot through the observant widow’s heart. Lennox had never looked at her with that air of humble adoration; he had never stood beside her with such a semblance of protection. “Thank you!” replied Miss D’Aubigny. “ I am not much of a horsewoman. I really do not know why I am not afraid; 'but I am not strong enough to ride well. I think that is why I cannot ride over counutry like Mrs.-Guise.” “You shall have no trouble .next time, for I will put you up on Veillantif, the most perfect lady’s hunter in the colony!” said Lennox. “ Oh, Jim! surely you would not trust Veillantif with Nelly!” cried the widow. The oracles at Delphi were wont to give obscure replies, that often had a double meaning. The lovely widow was as ambiguous in her question. “ Why not ? Don’t you consider him perfectly safe?” asked Lennox calmly. “Oh! you had better go and dress for dinner! ” said Mrs. Guise crossly. “You will be so late!” Lennox bowed and went out, followed by Probyne. The widow was fuming with jealous rage. She knew that Lennox prized Veillantif above either of -his three magnificent hunters. The horse had won nearly every championship for lady hacks in the country. Even she had only been asked to ride him once. A feeling of a deadly jealousy towards this slim, flaxen-haired, blue-eyed doll, with her oval face and tiny mouth came over the widow. She recalled with an angry start the pained voice with which Lennox had spoken of Eleanor D’Aubigny’s apparent danger in riding the infirm steeplechaser at that day’s hunt meeting. Could it be possible that he loved this overgrown child ? Her heart almost ceased beating at the idea ! “ Well, I’m going to dress for dinner; it is getting late!” said she, and left the room with a curt nod to her supposed rival. Eleanor D’Aubigny sat down by the fire, in the chair that Lennox had but lately quitted. She spread her slender fingers to the blaze, her elbow’s resting lightly on her knees. The firelight played on her coils of flaxen hair, that flashed like flakes of yellow silk in the light, as she sat there deep in thought. At length she rose with a sigh. “No! She has £4OOO a year; I have only £4OO ! She is tall and graceful and handsome ! Ah! I have no chance —none ! - He . would only love a queen like her!” she thought to herself, as she walked dejectedly to her room to dress for dinner. • . . • . .Two days later the Te Nui party turned out to the meet of the Rangitikei Hunt Club at Carnarvon. Lennox had carefully mounted Miss D’Aubigny on his magnificent hunter Veillantif. The widow looked on askance. But after the cavalcade had started they fell into couples—Nita Muirhead and Bourke leading, Miss D’Aubigny and Probyne next, Jim Lennox and Mrs. Guise, and the Te Nui drag, loaded with visitors, bringing up the rear. There was no doubt about Miss D’Aubigny’s position in the hunting field that day. As soon as the hounds gave tongue. Jim Lennox cantered up to her side. “Just take a firm hold of him,” he said to the beautiful girl on Veillantif, “ and let him follow the hounds. Those who pass you to-day will have to be good indeed!” She flashed him with a grateful smile. Lennox was riding Skyscraper, a magnificent roan hunter, and a tremendous big jumper. But it took him all his time to keep with Miss D’Aubigny. When Veillantif felt the gentle pressure on his bit he discovered a congenial spirit. That tender yet firm touch was just what he liked., Though several women had ridden him before, they none of them had had hands like his master—tender, yet firm, and so supporting that

Veillantif felt that he could fling himself through the air, over his jumps, like a shot from a catapult, without fear of having his jaws lacerated and his head jerked nearly off by iron hands. Yes, he felt he could go freely with the lady on his back that day. He was a perfect hunter, as Lennox had said. Light and built for speed, His hoofs were neat, his legs were clean His thigh was short, his flanks were His rump was large, his back full height, , ... His mane was yellow, streaked with -white; , , With little ears and tawny head, No steed like him was ever bred! And Lennox had named him alter Roland’s horse, of which he was the counterpart. So all day Eleanor D’Aubigny rode well to the front, and all day Mrs. Guise rode a parallel line to her, jealousy going for the highest fences, and risking her pretty neck a dozen times, in order to show Jim Lennox that although Eleanor D’Aubigny was on so fine a hunter as Veillantif, Jessie Guise on Culloden could outrival her over a stiffer country. Riding hard with Bourke and Probyne some 40 yards behind the Te Nur ladies, Lennox could not but admire the superb horsewomanship of the handsome widow. She rode with an elan that was electrical; and her hunter, as if imbued with his rider’s slashing spirit, took dyke and post-and-rails and wire fences in faultless style. ■ Nevertheless, Jim Lennox paired with s the rider of Veillantif returning home- '■ ' ward that evening, and they were so unaffectedly happy that the most impartial observer could not fail to see that both were satisfied with their surroundings. Then did Pluto run amok through the heartstrings of ■ Mrs. Guise, and she cried herself to sleep that night in bitterness of heart over her non-success with Jim Len- ' nox. Yet once more, in spite of her belief that he loved Eleanor D’Aubigny, she essayed to storm the stronghold of 'Jim Lennox’s heart. “ Nita,, dear, do your sister a good turn.. I want half an hour alone with ‘ Jim, and that D’Aubigny girl sticks to him like a leech. Get her to sing ; something to amuse Mr. Probyne—he loves music—and I’ll not forget you, said Mrs. Guise to her sister after dinner the following evening. Nita was only too glad to oblige her sister, especially as it gave her the chance to be alone with Ackland Bourke. Soon Eleanor D Aubigny was singing in a rich, sweet voice at the piano, and Probyne was. bending over her witji rapture in his eyes. Nita Muirhead and Bourke sat on a sofa, side by side, in the alcove at the end of the room. Mrs. Muirhead contentedly knitted by the fire, and her husband dozed over a newspaper, . opposite to her. Out on the verandah, under the palm trees that spread their feathery branches wide out from their stems, sat Jim Lennox, listening • with mingled feelings to the song “The Danube River’’ floating out through the open French windows. By his side sat Jessie Guise,, watching every quiver of his mobile face with a responsive thrill at her heartstrings. . Tragedy nad put on her “How well matched they are!,” remarked Mrs. Guise, alluding to the “ pair at the piano, whom they could easily see from where theyfsat. “ His is an artistic soul, nothing materialistic in it; she is ethereal. They were created for each other. I wonder if he has proposed yet!” Lennox shivered. “Why so interested in Probyne’s fate?” he asked, fencing the question. “Are you afraid he may propose?” The widow laughed musically. “ There is but one man in the world that I care so much for, Jim, and Prince Probyne is not that man. -But he has found his affinity—that feeble, hothouse flower is made . for . him, and he for her. His artistic . temperament, his fair face, and beau- \ , tiful hands and feet, his accomplishments, his distinguished manner, are just what she thinks the world of. A bushman, a strong, athletic,, dark- . skinned sportsman, though as handsome as a. god, would have no charm for her. See! . He. is pressing her hand. I wonder if he is whispering ; the magic question to her at this moment?” Lennox laughed sardonically, and the widow passed her arm through * his, saying: ' i “Why is it that you have :never •• married, Jim ?” .She gazed into his vacant eyes as if . to force an answer. - ’ !f;Too:'?pdor.-*' answered Lennox lah. conically. - , ~ « How'would you like an income of < t -thousands a' fear’.?’ ?ehe, ’almost whisi pered trembling, /quivering so much that he felt her agitation.

He glanced quickly at her face; his own went white. “ Jessie, dear one,” he said, “ I would never marry for money, nor would I ever marry a women I did not really love. It would break my heart to think that any woman loved me without return. I say this to you, because you have been almost a sister to me. There is one woman that I could love, and she sits there at the piano singing.” He did not dare to look at her. The silence became almost oppressive. Inside, Eleanor D’Aubigny was singing the exquisite cavatina from the “ Gazza Ladra” of Rossini: “Joy now reigns, my heart doth bound; why should I its bliss restrain ?” The widow laughed, a scornful, rippling laugh as she rose, and walked slowly along the verandah, followed by Lennox. She walked erect and firmly, almost regal in her height and beautifully-moulded figure. “Je le payerai!” she murmured fiercely between her cherry lips. She had heard the prima donna in an opera use the phrase, and she had learnt its meaning. As they reached the French window that led from the drawing-room to the verandah, Lennox drew aside the flimsy curtain, saying. “ Coming in?” As she passed him their eyes met, and she laughed. He laughed too. “ What a good sort you are, Jess?” he said. . “I am glad you think so, Mr. James Lennox,” - she replied, as she sailed majestically into the room. Two- days, after the lovely widow was down , at 5.30 in the morning, cooking breakfast for Jim Lennox who was going away with a mob of sheep to the Palmerston sheep sales. She had learnt this fact from the housemaid overnight, and had told the cook . that she would get the breakfast herself for Mr. Lennox. When Jim Lennox walked into the kitchen to take pot-luck before he started, to his surprise he found Mrs. Guise, fresh and fragrant, making coffee for him. “Good morning, your lordship! See how much I think of you,” she cried laughingly. “ I even get up at this early hour to provide you with a breakfast. Am I not good to you?” “ By Jove! you are,” he answered, sitting down to some beautifully grilled chops and bacon. “You always are too good to me. The man who gets a wife like you will be a lucky fellow!” “ You flatter me, Mr. Lennox,” she curtseyed gravely. “ Will you be back in time for the meet?” “ Not for the first run. I am going to try and pick up the hounds between here and Sandon some time in the afternoon. Muirhead will take the sheep on from the Travellers’ Rest, and I expect to get back to Awahuri about 1 o’clock. I’ll have Veillantif there to meet me; so you may possibly see me with the hounds some time this afternoon, . Now I must be off. That breakfast was delicious. Let me give you a kiss for it,” said Lennox. “Jim!” There was a world of surprise in her Voice as the widow stood tremblingly facing him. Lennox looked at her for a long moment then clasped her in his arms. To his great surprise she" passively suffered his embrace. He felt her quivering and trembling, and she kissed him passionately and long before she left his embrace. And they stood dumbly looking at each other-. “I suppose I- ought to ask you to marry me?” he stammered at last. “No!” She flushed crimson, and a passionate light flashed in her eyes. “ Go and ask the girl you love- —the girl at the piano the other night.” She turned away and looked out of the window at the crimson dawn. Lennox quitted the kitchen in a savage humour; he could have kicked himself for his folly, the more so since he found more than a passing charm in the embrace of beautiful Jessie Guise.. He discovered he had left his stockwhip behind in the kitchen, and he returned for it. The widow sat at the table, her head on . her arms, sobbing with a very agony of grief. The whole table shook with the violence of her emotion. Lennox stopped spellbound. Then he walked up to her and placed his hand on her arm. “ Oh, Jess, my girl, what is the matter?” She rose with a start, hid 'her face in her 'haridkerchief, and hurried from the kitchen, sobbing - as if her heart would break. Jim - Lennox picked up' his stockwhip, and walked out to the sheepyards with a-Strained, white' face. He felt like a murderer. ' ■ • *.• • J ■. c- • i■, : - 1 “ .What horse is Nell to ride?’’;asked Nita Muirhead anxiously that morning

at breakfast. “There are only Doubloon and Dolly Mops to pick from. We are badly off for spare mounts today.” “ You must ride Dolly Mops yourself, Nita,” said Eleanor D’Aubigny. “ I will try and make shift with Doubloon.” Acland Bourke looked across at Probyne. It was tne last day of their visit, and they both meant to have a five minutes’ conversation with Miss D’Aubigny somewhere alone. What better opportunity than the hunting, field? “You could have Fairyland, and welcome,” said Bourke; “ but she has never carried a habit.” “ I am afraid to trust the Bounder with you,” said Probyne. “He pulls like one o’clock when the hounds are giving tongue.” “What is the matter with Rupee?” asked Mrs. Muirhead. “ Rupee has cut his stifle, mother,” answered Miss Nita. “ Jack Gorse took him through the furze in the deadwood spinney yesterday morning, and he played up and cut himself.” “I think I can manage with Doubloon,” said Eleanor D’Aubigny. “I’ll keep to the roads.” “ Oh. I say!” cried both Bourke and Probyne. Mrs. Guise, who had been silent during the above conversation, now spoke in a sweet, low voice. “Nell, will you ride Culloden? Jim has made a perfect hunter of him.” All eyes were turned on her. Culloden, a beautiful grey thoroughbred, was her favourite hunter, broken in and perfected by Lennox. “But what will you ride?” asked Miss D’Aubigny. - “I am going to ride Red Hussar to-day,” was the reply. “ Red Hussar ! Why, I heard Jim say he would never allow you to get on his back again,” said Nita. “ I am going to ride him nevertheless. The horse is mine. I suppose I can do what I please with my own property ?” said Mrs. Guise calmly. They all tried to persuade her not to ride the horse, but Mrs. Guise was obdurate. Red Hussar she would ride, and no other. They consoled themselves with the reflection that Mrs. Guise was the finest horsewoman in the North Island, if not in all New Zealand; and so it was arranged that Eleanor D’Aubigny should ride Culloden. Mrs. Guise rode to the meet on Red Hussar —a fractious, ill-tempered, washy chestnut of immense bone and substance, beautifully barelled, long of rein and deep of quarter —an otherwise ideal lady’s mount; but he constantly showed the whites of his eyes. The widow kept him well under control, and a gayer party did not ride to the meet that day. The men cast many an approving glance at the lovely widow, their fancy being taken by the superb manner in which she handled her young hunter. Probyne, finding himself by her side, talked brilliantly and well, and made himself preux chevalier with his compliments. Acland Bourke did not let the opportunity pass. Gradually he and Miss D’Aubigny fell behind, until the others were a quarter of a mile or more ahead. When they all came together again Bourke was preternaturally silent: he had played his hazard and lost. Eleanor D’Aubigny, usually sweet-tempered, seemed much put out. and scarcely concealed the jealous glances she flashed towards Probyne and Mrs. Guise. As the hounds threw off Mrs. Guise and Mis D’Aubigny came together in a crush at a gate. “ He’s a willing fencer, Nell,” said Mrs. Guise. “ Take him over the side rails and get away!” The younger woman hesitated, looking round for Probyne. “ Pshaw! And he loves you!” cried the widow, wildly scornful. “ Here, let me pass!” She thrust Red Hussar through the crowd, faced him at the rails, and gave him a smart cut with her whip. He immediately reared straight up on end, only to be brought down again by a sounding smash between the ears. . He snorted with temper and dashed at the fence, crashed through the top rail, and landed on his nose on the other side. The widow, sitting prettily back, picked him up smartly when he pecked, and was rewarded by a loud “Bravo!” from the M.F.H. Eleanor D’Aubigny followed, and was alongside Mrs. Guise immediately. “He does love me!” she panted; “ and you will 3 never get him, try how you may.” She dashed on after the hounds with .‘Mrs. Guise hard after her. ■? ■ * r 7 ’’. ■ ... When’Jim Lennox,’ raping along the : AwahUri-Sahdon road/- met old Bur- -c gbyne, of Romata/? placidly ..-driving : home from the’ meet -. he shotted ; to him: \.

“Which way have they gone?” Burgoyne pulled up leisurely. “If you wait about here I fancy they’ll come out just above. They made for McKenzie’s in a half-circle, and I rather think the cast will lie through McDonald’s and James’s across Petersen’s to here. My word, that’s a dangerous brute Mrs. Guise is riding ! Miss D’Aubigny is up on Culloden, the hunter you made for Jessie. I fancy they are riding ‘ jealous,’ for they are going at everything like two mad women. The young girl is safe enough, but I’m afraid Mrs. Guise will get smashed up to-day.” A sharp twinge of conscience pricked Lennox, and he was turning away up the road when the music of the pack broke on his ears, and just as Burgoyne had prophesied, the hounds crossed the road not a hundred yards above them, the scent breast high, and went racing on towards Carnarvon and the Rangitikei River. Shortly after a foam-covered chestnut, with wild, white eyes, ridden by a lady, plunged through the nedge behind the pack, took the road in three strides, flew the gorse hedge into the paddock beyond, and raced away like a demon possessed after the hounds. Then followed a beautiful iron grey, also ridden by a lady, jumping faultlessly, and racing away as furiously after the first horse. Burgoyne jumped on to the seat of his buggy to get a better view. “ Jess and Miss ’Aubigny,” cried Lennox, astonished. “ That brute’s bolted with Mrs. Guise!” yelled Burgoyne; then suddenly cried, “My God —the river ! They’re heading straight for the river! ” Veillantif had never been so roughly handled before. He felt the spurs rip his sides as he sprang at the fence -before him. In two strides he was over and racing across country like the wind. The ground seemed to disappear from under him as he thundered on after the two horses, now nearly half a mile ahead. Behind them came the rest of the hunt, plodding hopelessly in the rear. Lennox thanked his good luck in having a fresh horse under him. Veillantif closed on the leaders with incredible speed, hard ridden by his master. Far ahead the hounds dashed over the high bank of the river, and splashed into the water. Veillantif passed Culloden like the wind, and Lennox shouted a brief injunction to Miss D’Aubigny to “ pull up.” Just ahead of him Mrs. Guise sat firmly on her maddened runaway, and scientifically sawed at the bit, gripped between his jaws as in a vice. That she knew her danger Lennox did not doubt. Yet she sat cool and collected, trying all she knew to stop Red Hussar before he plunged into the river, which was almost at its deepest thereabouts. For the first time since he had known Jessie Guise Lennox experienced a thrill of agonising emotion. There before him. he knew now, was the one woman in the world for him. He drove the spurs into his horse, and raced up alongside of her. They were within a dozen yards of the river bank. He saw Mrs. Guise free her foot from the stirrup, and, passing his arm round her waist, he lifted her out of the saddle, and brought Veillantif round with a “prop” that only the finest of stockmen are capable of. They turned within a yard of the edge of the river bank. Red Hussar went over the bank into the water with a tremendous splash. The ducking seemed to do him good, for he calmly swam across the river and stopped on the further bank to graze. Jim Lennox looked with hungry eyes on the widow’s face. Her blueeyes, like heaven opening to him, laughed into his face. “Bravo, Jim! Well done, sir!” she said saucily. “ Oh, thank God! Thank God T was in time,” stammered Lennox, shaking with emotion. “ You would, have been drowned by that mad brute.” "' “ You saved my life, Jim. Why did you do it ?” asked Mrs. Guise, flushing at the strong pressure of his arms. “Because I love you. Oh, Jess, how blind I have been. Tell me you forgive me for this morning,” answered Lennox, as he slipped from his saddle after placing Mrs. Guise on terra Anna. “Forgive you, Jim!” cooed the pretty widow. “ I must forgive you now, for you saved my life.” She seemed to become so suddenly shy; a new light had entered her life. “ Will you have me now, Jess?” asked Lennox, grasping her.hand. “I have a right to ask you now.” “ Don’t Jim. There are Nell and ■■-Mr. Probyne. Why,: bless, my heart, ■t what’s the man doing? Jim. he’s kissing her ! Oh, I. see it all now. We’ve both been - , on: at false- scent- She

was jealous of Probyne all the time, and I thought it was you. You may kiss, me, Jim, now you’ve saved my life. But be quick—l see the rest of the field coming over the gorse fence. Oh, Jim! Jim ! Do be reasonable.” Mrs. Guise contrived to make her lover behave himself moderately well before the members of the hunt, though Jim Lennox seemed to 'have suddenly become daft for love of her. That night Eleanor D’Aubigny, clasped in the widow’s arms in the privacy of her bedroom, confessed that she had long loved Prince Probyne/.and at last he had proposed to her. \ .And when Mrs. Guise announced her engagement to Jim Lennox, they” mutually agreed that they were the t#o happiest women in the world, in spite of their having been for some time bh a false scent.